Turning Points Spiritual History
GA 60
2 March 1911, Berlin
III. Buddha -or- Buddhism and Christianity
In these days there is much discussion concerning The Buddha and the Buddhist Creed; and this fact is the more interesting to all who follow the course of human evolution, because a knowledge of the true character of the Buddhist religion, or perhaps more correctly, the longing felt by many for its comprehension has only recently entered into the spiritual life of the Western nations. Let us consider for a moment that most prominent personality, Goethe, who exerted such a powerful influence on Occidental culture, at the turn of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, which influence continued so potently right on into our own period. When we examine his life, his works, and his intellectuality, we find no trace of the Buddhist doctrine; but a little later we note in the concepts of that genius, Schopenhauer (who was in a certain sense a disciple of Goethe), a clear and definite touch of Buddhistic thought; and since that period in which Schopenhauer lived, the interest taken in Eastern spiritual conceptions has steadily increased. Hence it is that there is now a widespread and inherent desire, to analyse and discuss all those matters connected with the name of the Great Buddha, which have found their way into the course of human evolution.
It is a remarkable fact that most people still persist in associating Buddhism, primarily, with the idea of recurrent earth lives, to which concept we have often referred in these lectures. Such an assumption is, however, found to be unwarranted when we have regard to the essential character of the Buddhist belief. We might say, that with the majority of those people who interest themselves in this subject, the notion of repeated earth lives, or as we term it, Reincarnation, forms a well-established and essential part of their preconceived ideas regarding Buddhism. But on the other hand it must be said, even though it sounds grotesque, that to those who probe more deeply into these matters, the association of Buddhism with the idea of reincarnation, appears almost equivalent to saying,—that the most complete knowledge of ancient works of art is to be sought among those peoples who have destroyed them at the commencement of universal development and progress in the Middle Ages. This certainly sounds grotesque, but it is nevertheless true, as we at once realize when we consider that the aim of Buddhism is directed towards the disparagement of our apparently inevitably recurring earth lives, and the reduction of their number as far as may be within our power. Hence, we must regard as the essential moving principle underlying the whole trend of Buddhist spiritual thought that principle which operates in the direction of freedom, that is, redemption from repeated rebirth, or liberation from reincarnation which it accepts as an established and unquestionable fact; in this concept is expressed the true and vital essence of Buddhism.
Even from a superficial glance at the history of Western spiritual life, we learn that the idea of repeated earthly existence is quite independent of an understanding of Buddhism, and vice versa; for during the course of our Occidental spiritual development we find ourselves confronted with a conception of reincarnation, presented in a manner both lofty and sublime, by a personality who most certainly had remained untouched by Buddhist views and trend of thought. This personality was Lessing, who in his treatise on The Education of Mankind, which is regarded as the most matured and mellow of his works, closes with the confession that he himself was a believer in the Doctrine of Reincarnation. With regard to this belief, he gives expression to those deeply significant words,—‘Is not all eternity mine?‘ Lessing was of opinion that the repetition of our earthly lives was proof that benefit would accrue from mundane endeavour, and that existence in this world is not in vain. For while we toil we look forward to ever widening and fuller recurring corporal states, in which we may bring to maturity the fruits of our by-gone earthly lives. The conception which Lessing really formed was of the prospect and anticipation of a rich and bountiful harvest, to be garnered in the fullness of time coupled with the knowledge that throughout human existence there is ever an inner voice, which in actual expectation of recurrent earth lives, calls to us, saying,—‘Thou shalt persist in thy labours.’ From what has been said, it is now apparent that it is in the very essence of Buddhism that man must ever strive to obtain such knowledge and wisdom as may serve to free him from those future reincarnations, the prevision of which lies in the spirit. Only when during one of our earth lives we have at last freed ourselves from the need of experiencing those which would otherwise follow, can we enter peacefully upon that condition which we may term Eternity.
I have persistently endeavoured to make it clear that the idea of reincarnation, both with regard to Spiritual Science and Theosophy, was not derived from any one of the ancient traditions, not even from Buddhism; it has in fact thrust itself upon us during our time, as a result of independent observation and reflection concerning life in connection with spiritual investigation. Hence, to associate Buddhism so directly with the idea of reincarnation indicates a superficial attitude. If we would indeed look into the true character and nature of Buddhism, then we must turn our spiritual eyes in quite another direction.
I must now once again draw your attention to that law in human evolution which we met with when we were considering the personality of the great Zarathustra. In accordance with this law, as was then stated, during the gradual passing of time the whole condition and character of man’s soul changed, while it went through varying transitional states. Those events regarding which we obtain information from external historical documents, represent as far as man is concerned, only a comparatively late phase in the evolution of humanity. If, however, we look back with the aid of Spiritual Science to prehistoric times, we gain much further knowledge; we then find that a certain condition of soul was common to primitive man, whereby the normal state of human consciousness was quite other than that of our day.
That pre-eminently intellectual order of consciousness, which leads to the manner in which, during the course of our normal human life, we now regard all things around us combining them by means of our mental powers acting through the brain, so that they shall be connected with and become a part of our wisdom, and our science—was first developed from another form of conscious state. I have emphasized this point before, but I must lay particular stress upon it once again. We have in the chaotic disorder of our dream-life, a last remnant—a species of atavistic heritage – of an old clairvoyance, which was at one time to a certain extent, an ordinary condition of the human soul, and in which mankind assumed a state between that of sleeping and that of being awake; he could then look upon those things hidden behind the perceptual world.
In these days in which our consciousness mainly alternates between the sleeping and the waking conditions, it is only in the latter that we seek to apprehend a state of intellectuality in the soul; but in olden times, clairvoyant visions were not so meaningless as are the dream forms of our period, for they could be quite definitely ascribed to specific superperceptual creations and events. Mankind had in connection with these ancient fluctuating visions a species of conscious state out of which our present intellectuality gradually evolved. Hence, we look back to a certain form of primeval clairvoyance which was followed by the long drawn out evolution of our consciousness as recognized to-day. Because of this by-gone dream-like clairvoyance, prehistoric man could gaze far into the superperceptual worlds, and through this connection with the supersensible, he gained not knowledge alone but a feeling of profound inner satisfaction and bliss from the full realization of the soul’s union with the Spirit-World.
Just as present-day man is now convinced through his sense perceptions and intellectuality that his blood is composed of substances which exist without in the physical universe, so was prehistoric man confident that his soul and spiritual nature emanated from that same hidden Spirit-World which he could discern in virtue of his clairvoyant consciousness. It has already been pointed out that there are phenomena connected with the history of mankind, and which are also apparent in certain external facts and happenings, that can only be fully understood when we pre-suppose some such primordial condition of man’s earthly existence. It has further been stated that modern science is coming more and more to the conclusion that it is erroneous to assume, as has been done by the materialistic Anthropology of the nineteenth century, that in primeval times the prevailing state common to man was similar to that found among the most primitive peoples of to-day. It is, in fact, becoming more and more clear that the prehistoric races had extremely exalted theoretical conceptions regarding the Spirit-World, and that these concepts were given to them in the form of visions. All those curious ideas which come to us through myths and legends can only be rightly understood, when they are first connected with and referred back to that ancient wisdom which came to man in a way wholly different from that by which our present intellectual science has been attained.
In these modern times there is not much sympathy expressed with the view that the position in which we find the primitive peoples of our day is not typical of the universal primordial condition of mankind, but is in reality an example of decadence from a primarily highly clairvoyant spiritual state common to all peoples. But facts will yet force a general acceptance of some such hypothesis as that put forward by Spiritual Science as a result of its investigations. Here, as in many other cases, it can be shown that fundamentally there is complete accord between spiritual and external science. Further, a time will come when the conclusions which Spiritual Science has formed regarding the probable future of man’s evolution, viewed from the scientific stand-point, will be entirely confirmed. We must look back, not merely to a form of primeval wisdom, but to a specific order of primordial feeling and apprehension, which we characterize as a clairvoyant bond, erstwhile existent between man and the divine regions of spirit.
We can easily understand that during the transition from the old or clairvoyant state of the human soul to our modern direct, unprejudiced and intellectual method of regarding the external perceptual world, there should arise two different currents of thought. As time went on the first of these made itself manifest more especially among those peoples who had clung to memories of the past, and to their fading psychic power, in such manner that they would say:—‘In by-gone days mankind was truly in contact with the spirit realms in virtue of the clairvoyant faculty, but since then he has descended into the material world of sense perception.’ This feeling spread throughout the whole soul’s outlook, until those ancient peoples would cry out:—‘We are indeed now come into a world of manifestations where all is illusion—all is Maya.’ Only at such time as man might commune with the spirit spheres could he truly comprehend, and be united with his very being. Thus it was that there came to those nations who still preserved a dim remembrance of the ancient primal clairvoyant state, a certain feeling of sadness at the thought of what they had lost, and an indifference to all material things which man might apprehend and understand through the medium of his intellect, and with which he is ever in direct and conscious contact.
On the other hand, the second of the two thought currents to which I have referred, may be expressed in the following manner:—‘We will observe and be active in this new world which has been given to us.’ Thought of this nature is especially noticeable throughout the Zarathustran doctrine. Those who experienced this call to action did not look back with sorrow and longing to the loss of the old clairvoyant power, but felt, ever more and more, that they must keep in close and constant touch with those forces by the aid of which they might penetrate into the secrets and nature of all material things, knowing full well that knowledge and guidance, born of the spirit, would flow in upon them if they would but give themselves up to earnest and profound meditation and piety. Such people felt impelled to link themselves closely with the world—there was no dreaming of the past, but an urge to gaze resolutely into the future and to battle with what might come. They expressed themselves after this fashion:—‘Interwoven throughout this world, which is now our portion, is the same divine essence that was spread about us and permeated our very beings in by-gone ages; and this spiritual component we must now seek amid our material surroundings. It is our task to unite ourselves with all that is good and of the spirit, and by so doing, to further the progress and evolution of creation.’ These words indicate the essential nature of that current of thought which was occupied with external physical perception, and went forth from those Asiatic countries where the Zarathustran doctrine prevailed, and which lay Northward of the region where mankind looked back in meditation, pondering over that great spiritual gift which had passed away, and was indeed lost.
Thus it came about that upon the soil of India there arose a spiritual life which is entirely comprehensible, when we regard it in the light of all this retrospection concerning a former union with the Spirit-World. If we consider the results in India of the teachings of the Sankhya and Yoga philosophies and the Yoga training, we find that these may be embodied in the following statement:—The Indian has ever striven to re-establish his connection with those Spirit-Worlds from whence he came, and it has been his constant endeavour to eliminate from his earthly life all that was spread around him in the external creation, and by thus freeing himself from material things, to regain his union with that spiritual region from whence humanity has emanated. The principle underlying Yoga philosophy is reunion with the divine realms, and abstraction from all that appertains to the perceptual world.
Only when we assume this fundamental mood of Indian spiritual life can we realize the significance of that mighty impulse brought about by the advent of the Buddha, which blazed up before our spiritual sight, as an after-glow across the evening sky of Indian soul-life, but a few centuries before the Christ-impulse began to dominate Western thought. It is only in the light of the Buddha-mood, when regarded as already characterized, that the outstanding figure of the Buddha can be truly comprehended. In view of that basic assumption to which we have above referred, we can readily conceive that in India there could exist an order of thought and conviction, such as caused mankind to regard the world as having fallen from a spiritual state into one of sense-illusion, or that ‘Great Deception‘, which is indeed Maya. It is also understandable that the Indian, because of his observations concerning this external world with which humanity is so closely connected, pictured to himself that this decline came about suddenly and unexpectedly from time to time, during the passing of the ages. So that Indian philosophy does not regard man’s fall as uniform and continuous, but as having taken place periodically from epoch to epoch. From this point of view we can now understand those contemplative moods, underlying a form of culture which we must regard as being in the departing radiance of its existence; for so must we characterize the Buddhist conception, if we would consider it as having a place in a philosophy such as we have outlined.
Indian thought ever harked back to that dim past when man was truly united with the Spirit-World. For there came a time when the Indian fell away from his exalted spiritual standard; this decline persisted until a certain level was reached, when he rose again, only to sink once more. He continued to alternate in this fashion throughout the ages, every descent taking him still further along the downward path, while each upward step was, as it were, a mitigation granted by some higher power, in order that man might not be compelled to work and live, all too suddenly, in that condition which he had already entered upon during his fall. According to ancient Indian philosophy, as each period of decline was ended there arose a certain outstanding figure whose personality was known as a ‘Buddha‘; the last of these was incarnated as the son of King Suddhodana, and called Gautama Buddha.
Since those olden times, when humanity was still directly united with the Spirit-World, there have arisen a number of such Buddhas, five having appeared subsequent to the last fall. The advent of the Buddhas was a sign that mankind shall not sink into illusion—into Maya—but that again and again there shall come into men’s lives something of the ancient primal wisdom, to succour and to aid humanity. This primordial knowledge, however, because of man’s constant downward trend, fades from time to time; but in order that it shall be renewed there arises periodically a new Buddha, and as we have stated, the last of these was Gautama Buddha.
Before such great teachers could advance, through repeated earth lives, to the dignity of Buddhahood, if we may so express it, they must have already been exalted and attained the lofty standing of a Bodhisattva.1Bodhisattva (Sanskrit). A Bodisat, one whose essence is enlightenment, that is, one destined to become a Buddha. A Buddha Elect (vide, A Concise Dictionary of Eastern Religion, by Winternitz). According to the Indian philosophical outlook, Gautama Buddha, up to his twenty-ninth year, was not regarded as a Buddha, but as a Bodhisattva. It was therefore as a Bodhisattva that he was born into the royal house of Suddhodana; and because his life was ever devoted to toil and to striving, he was at last blessed with that inner illumination, symbolically portrayed in the words, ‘Sitting under the Bodhi tree‘; and that glorious enlightenment which flowed in upon him found expression in the ‘Sermon at Benares’.
Thus did Gautama Buddha rise to the full dignity of Buddahood in his twenty-ninth year, and from that time on, he was empowered to revive once again a last remnant of by-gone primeval wisdom; which, however, in the light of Indian conceptions, would be destined to fall into decadence during the centuries to come. But according to these same concepts, when man has sunk so low, that the wisdom and the knowledge which this last Buddha brought, shall have waned, then will yet another Bodhisattva rise to Buddhahood, the Buddha of the Future—the Maitreya Buddha; whose coming the Indian surely awaits, for it is foretold in his philosophy.
Let us now consider what took place at that time when the last Bodhisattva rose to Buddhahood; when, as we might say, his soul became filled with primordial wisdom. By so doing we can best realize and understand the true significance of that great change, wrought by struggle and toil through repeated earth lives.
There is a legend which tells us that until his twenty-ninth year he had seen nothing of the world outside the Royal Palace of Suddhodana; and that he was protected from that misery and suffering which are factors of existence ever antagonistic to human prosperity in life’s progress. It was under these conditions that the Bodhisattva grew up; but at the same time he was possessed of the Bodhisattva-consciousness, that consciousness so imbued with inner wisdom garnered from previous incarnations. Hence, as he developed, during life’s unfolding, he looked only upon those things which would bring forth true and goodly fruits. Since this legend is so well known, it is only necessary to refer to the main points. It states that when the Buddha at length came outside the Royal Palace he had an experience such as could not have occurred before—namely, he beheld a corpse—and he realized on seeing this body that life is dissolved by death; and that the death element breaks in upon life’s procreative and fruitful progress. He next came upon an ailing and feeble man; and knew that disease enters upon life. Again, he saw an aged person, tottering and weary; and he understood that old age creeps in upon the freshness of youth.
From the stand-point of Buddhism, Indian Philosophy presupposes that:—He who having been a Bodhisattva, and is exalted to Buddhahood, regards all experiences, such as the above, with the Bodhisattva-consciousness. This supposition must be clearly understood. Gautama realized that in the great wisdom which underlies development in all being, there is an element destructive to existence; and the legend states that when this truth first dawned upon him, his great soul was so affected that he cried out:—‘Life is full of misery.’
Let us now place ourselves in the position of those who look upon experiences of this nature, solely from the Buddhistic point of view, for instance, in the position of this Bodhisattva-Gautama. Gautama was possessed of a higher wisdom which lived within him, but was as yet not fully developed. He had, up to this period, seen only the fortunate and wealthy side of life, and now for the first time beheld the elements of decay and dissolution. If we consider the way in which he must have regarded these happenings, as viewed from the stand-point of assumptions forced upon him in virtue of his being, we can readily understand how it was that this great spiritual Buddha came to express himself in words somewhat as follows:—‘When we attain to knowledge and to wisdom, it comes about that in virtue of such wisdom we are led onwards toward development and progress; and because of this enlightenment, there enters into the soul the thought of an ever continuous and beneficial growth and advancement; but when we look upon the world about us we see there the elements of destruction as expressed in sickness, old age, and death. Verily, it cannot be wisdom that would thus mingle these destructive factors with life, but something quite apart and distinctive in character.’ At first the great Gautama did not fully grasp all that his Bodhisattva-consciousness implied, and we can well realize how it was that he became imbued with those thoughts which caused him to exclaim:—‘Man may indeed be possessed of much wisdom, and through his knowledge there may come to him the idea of plenteous benefits; but in life we behold about us not alone the factors of sickness and death, but many another baneful element which brings corruption and decay into our very existence.’
The Bodhisattva thus saw around him a condition which he could not as yet fully comprehend. He had passed through life after life, always applying the experiences gained through his previous incarnations to his soul’s benefit; the while his wisdom became ever greater and greater, till at last he could look down upon all earthly existence from a more exalted vantage-point. But when he came forth from the King’s Palace, and saw before him for the first time the realities of life, its true nature and significance did not at once penetrate his understanding. That knowledge which we gain from the repeated experiences of our earth lives, and which we store within us as wisdom, can never solve the ultimate secrets of our being, for the true origin of these mysteries must lie without—remote from that life which is ours as we pass from reincarnation to reincarnation.
Such thoughts matured in the great soul of Gautama and led him directly to that sublime enlightenment known as ‘The Illumination under the Bodhi Tree ‘.2Bodhi Tree—Fig-tree (Ficus religiosa); known also as the Bo Tree. [Ed.] There, while seated beneath this tree, it became clear to the Buddha that this world in which we have our being is Maya,—illusion; that here life follows upon life, and that we have come upon this earth from a spiritual realm. While we are yet here we may indeed be exalted, and even rise to noble heights in the divine sense, and we may pass through many reincarnations, becoming ever more and more possessed of wisdom; but because of that which is material and comes to us through contact with this earthly life, we can never solve the great ever-present mystery of existence which finds expression in old age, disease and death. It was at this time of enlightenment that the thought came to Gautama that the teachings born of suffering held for him a greater significance than all the wisdom of a Bodhisattva.
The Buddha expressed the fundamental concept underlying his great illumination as follows:—‘That which spreads itself abroad throughout this world of Maya is not veritable wisdom, indeed, so little of this quality is manifested in life that we can never hope to gain from external experiences a true understanding of affliction, nor acquire that knowledge which will show us the way by which we may be freed from suffering; for interwoven throughout all outer existence is a factor of quite another character, which differs from all wisdom and all knowledge.’
It is therefore obvious that what the Buddha sought was an element through the agency of which the destructive forces of old age, sickness and death become commingled with earthly life, and in which wisdom has no part. He held that freedom from these baneful factors can never come through mundane knowledge and learning for the path which leads to deliverance does not lie in that direction, and can only be found when man withdraws himself entirely from the external world, where life follows upon life and reincarnation upon reincarnation.
Thus it was the Buddha realized from the moment of his illumination that in the teachings and experience born of affliction, lay that basic element necessary to humanity for its future progress; and he conceived a factor (wherein was no wisdom) which he termed The Thirst for Existence to be the true source of all that misery and sorrow which so troubles the world. Upon the one side wisdom, upon the other a thirst for existence, where wisdom has no part. It was this thought which caused Gautama to exclaim:—‘Only liberation from recurrent earth life can lead humanity to the realization of perfect freedom; for earthly wisdom, even that of the highest learning, cannot save us from grief and anguish.’ He therefore gave himself up to meditation, and sought some means whereby mankind might be led away from all this restlessness in the world of his reincarnations, and guided into that transcendent state which Gautama Buddha has designated Nirvana.
What, then, is the nature of this state—this World of Nirvana—which man shall enter when he has so advanced in his earthly life that ‘The Thirst for Existence‘ has passed, and he no more desires to be reborn? We must understand this concept rightly, for then shall we avoid those grotesque and fantastic ideas, so frequently spread abroad. Nirvana is a condition that can only be characterized in the Buddhist sense. According to this conception, it is a world of redemption and of bliss that can never be expressed in terms of things which may be apprehended in the material state in which we have our being. There is nothing in this physical world, nor in the wide expanse of the cosmos, which can awaken in mankind a realization of the sublime truth underlying such redemption.
Hence, we should forbear from all pronouncements and assertions regarding that glorious region where humanity must seek salvation; and all earth-born predications and profitless statements—such as man is ever prone to make – must be stilled, for in them is nought pertaining to the spheres of eternal bliss. There is, indeed, no possibility of picturing that realm, where all may enter who have overcome the need for reincarnation, since it is not of those things of which we may have awareness on this earth life. When, therefore, we would speak of this condition we must use a negative, an indefinite, term and such a term is Nirvana. He who has conquered all mundane desires shall yet know the nature and the aspect of that other world which we can but indicate with the one vague and neutral word Nirvana. It is a region which, according to the Buddhist, no language can portray. It is not a ‘Nihility‘, it is indeed so far removed from such a concept that we can find no words wherewith to describe this state of being, so complete, so perfect, and all abounding in ecstasy and bliss.
We are now in a position to grasp and apprehend the very essence of Buddhism, its sentiments and its convictions. From the time of the Sermon at Benares, when first the Buddha gave expression to the ‘Doctrine of Suffering‘, Buddhism became permeated with thought and understanding concerning the inner nature of life’s misery and distress, and of that yearning, that Thirst for Existence which leads but to sorrow and affliction. There is, according to this doctrine, only one way in which humanity may truly progress, and that is through gaining freedom and redemption from further reincarnations. Mankind must find that path of knowledge which extends outward and beyond all earthly wisdom—that path which is the way and the means whereby slowly, step by step, man may become so fitted and conditioned that he can at last enter upon that ideal state—Nirvana. In other words, he must learn to utilize the experiences of his rebirths, in such manner that finally recurrent earth life is no longer essential to his development, and he is freed therefrom for evermore.
If we now turn from this brief summary of the conceptions which underlie Buddhism, to the root and essence of this religion, it at once strikes us as peculiar when viewed in the light of our ideas concerning humanity regarded as a whole—for Buddhism in point of fact isolates the individual. Questions are raised relative to man’s destiny, the purport and aim of his existence, his place and relation to the world—all from the stand-point of detached and separate personality. How, indeed, could any other trend of thought underlie a philosophy built upon a fundamental disposition of mind such as we have outlined? A philosophy evolved from a basic mood, which conceives man as being descended from spiritual heights and now finding himself in a world of illusion; from which material existence the wisdom of a Buddha may, from time to time, free him; but this very wisdom (as was seen in the case of the last Buddha) causes him to seek redemption from his earthly life. How could the goal of human existence, born as it was of convictions such as these, be characterized other than by representing man as isolated in his relation to the whole of his environment? According to this philosophy, the fundamental aspect of being is such as to represent decline, while development and evolution in earthly life implies degeneration.
The manner in which the Buddha sought enlightenment is both remarkable and significant, but unless we consider also the peculiar characteristics and circumstances connected with ‘The Illumination‘, neither the Buddha himself, nor Buddhism, can be properly understood. When Gautama craved enlightenment, he went forth into solitude; to a place where he could find entire and absolute isolation. For all that he had acquired from life to life, must be overcome in the utter detachment of his being, so that there could break in upon his soul that clear light whereby he might comprehend and solve the mystery of the world’s wretchedness. There in that place, as one in complete aloofness, dependent upon himself alone, the Buddha awaited the moment of illumination—that moment when there should come to him an understanding which would enable him to realize that the true cause of all human suffering lay in the intense longing manifested by individual man to be born again into this material world. And further, that this yearning for reincarnation, this thirst for existence, is the fundamental source of all that misery and distress which is everywhere about us, and of those pernicious factors which bring ruin and destruction into our very being.
We cannot rightly comprehend the unusual and singular nature of the Buddha-Illumination and of the Buddhistic Doctrine unless we compare them with the knowledge and experience we have gained through Christianity. Six hundred years after the advent of the Great Buddha, there arose in Christendom a wholly different conception, in which we also find man’s position relative to the world and all that is about him expressed in definite terms.
Now, regarding Buddhism, and speaking in an abstract and general manner, we can say:—The philosophic outlook concerning the cosmos, as set forth in Buddhistic teachings, is not treated historically, and this unhistoric method is thoroughly typical of all Eastern countries. These countries have seen one Buddha epoch follow upon another, only to gradually die out and eventually come to an end. Such descriptions as are concerned merely with man’s descent from higher to lower states, do not of themselves constitute what we term history, for the factors of true history would include the upward endeavour of humanity to reach some appointed goal, and the nature and possibilities of man’s association and union with the world as a whole, both in the past and in the future. We would then have veritable history. But the Buddhist stands isolated and alone, concerned only with the basic principles of his being, ever seeking to gain through the conduct of his personal life those powers which may lead him to freedom from ‘the thirst for existence‘, so that having attained to this freedom he may at last win redemption from rebirth.
In Christendom, six hundred years after the Buddha period, the attitude of individual man toward the evolution of humanity in general was of quite another kind. Putting aside all prejudice, which is so common a failing throughout the world, we can characterize one particular Christian trend of thought as follows:—From that part of the Christian concept which is founded upon the stories in the Old Testament it is realized that the ancients were related to the spiritual realms in a manner wholly different from that which was subsequently the case; as is seen in the grand and lofty imagery depicted in Genesis. Now, a curious fact comes to light, namely, in Christendom we find man’s relation to the world to be of a character entirely unlike that which obtains in Buddhism. The following may be considered as the Christian’s point of view:—‘Within my being is understanding begotten of that condition of soul which is now mine; and because of the way and the manner in which I observe and comprehend this outer perceptual world, there is born in me wisdom, intelligence and an aptitude for the practical conduct of life. But I can look back into the distant past when the human soul was differently conditioned, and there came about a circumstance, namely, “The Fall of Man”, which cannot be regarded simply from the Buddhistic stand-point.’ This event, which we so often find portrayed in a figurative form based upon misconception, the Buddhist believes to be a [natural result of man’s] descent from Divine spiritual heights into a world of Maya, or illusion. This great ‘Fall’ must, however, be looked upon in a quite different way, for truly characterized it is The Fall of Man [as caused wholly through his own transgression, and was not due as the Buddhist thinks, merely to his coming down from a higher spiritual state and entering a world of deception].
Although man may have his own opinion concerning this matter, nevertheless, there is one thing we must admit, and that will suffice for the present, namely, that in connection with the thought of ‘The Fall’ there is an inner sentiment which causes man to exclaim:—‘As I am now there work within me certain impulses and forces that have of a surety not developed in my being alone, for similar factors were active in a not so very distant past, when they played a part in happenings of such a nature that the human race, to which I belong, not only lapsed from its former higher spiritual standard, but is so far fallen that mankind has come into another relation with the world to the one which would have been, if the original conditions had but endured.’
When man fell away from his previous high spiritual state, he sank to a definitely lower level, and this change was brought about by what may be termed his own conscious sin. We are therefore not merely concerned with the fact of descent, as is the case when ‘The Fall’ is viewed from the Buddhist stand-point, for we must take into consideration varying mood during this period of decadence. If man’s first nature had but continued unchanged this decline would not have that character which it has now assumed, where the soul-state is such that he is ever prone to fall into temptation.
He who penetrates beneath the surface of Christianity and studies deeply, learns that while history ran its course man’s soul-quality altered. In other words, because of certain events which happened in ancient times, man’s soul (the working of which may be likened to a subconscious mind with his being) took to itself a quality quite other to that which was primarily intended. Now, the Buddhist’s position relative to the material world may be expressed as follows; he would say:—‘I have been taken out of a Divine spiritual realm and placed upon this earth; when I look around me I find nought but illusion—all is Maya.’ But the Christian, on the other hand, would exclaim:—‘When I came down into this material life, had I but conformed to the order and intent of that Divine plan in which I had my part, I could even now look beyond this perceptual pretence, behind all this deception, this Maya; and I would at all times have power to realize and discern that which is genuine and true. But because, when I descended upon this earth my deeds were not in harmony with those things which had been ordained, I have, through my own act, caused this world to become an illusion.’
To the question:—‘Why is this world one of Maya?’ the Buddhist answers:—‘It is the world itself that is Maya.’ But the Christian says:—‘It is I who am at fault, I alone; my limited capacity for discernment and my whole soul-state have placed me in such a position that I can no more apprehend that which was in the beginning; and my actions and conduct have ceased to be of such a nature that results follow smoothly, ever attended with beneficial and fruitful progress. I myself have enwrapped this material life in a veil of Maya.’ The Buddhist’s stand-point is: that the world is a great illusion, and must be overcome. The Christian exclaims:—‘I have been placed upon this earth and must here find the purpose and object of my being.’ When he once understands that through Spiritual Science knowledge may be acquired concerning recurrent earth lives, he then realizes that he may use this wisdom for the achievement of the true aim of his existence. He then becomes convinced that the reason why we now look upon a world of sorrow and deception, is because we have wandered from our allotted path. He considers that this change to Maya is the direct result of man’s deeds, and the manner in which he regards the world. The Christian, therefore, is of opinion that in order to attain to eternal bliss, we must not seek to withdraw ourselves from this earth-state but master that condition which we alone have brought about, and through which the aspect of all material things has been transformed into one of illusion, such that we no longer apprehend them in their truth and reality; we must turn back and overcome this deception, then may we follow the course of our first duly appointed destiny—for latent within each one of us abides a higher personality. If this more noble hidden-self were not hindered and could but look around upon the world, it would apprehend it in all its verity; man would then no longer continue an existence hampered by sickness and by death but lead an everlasting life in all the freshness of youth.
Such, then, is the true inner self that we have veiled. Veiled, because in the past we have been associated with a certain event in the world’s development, the effects of which have continued on, while the primary impulses still work within us, thus proving that we do not exist isolated and alone. We must not believe that we have been led to our present condition through a ‘thirst for existence’ common to individual man; but rather must we realize that each one of us is a definite unit in the sum total of humanity, and as such must take his share and suffer from the results of any original transgression committed by mankind.
It is in this way that the Christian feels that he is historically united with the whole human race, and while he looks into the future, he exclaims:—’Through travail and toil I must regain touch with that greater self which because of Man’s Fall, now lies enshrouded within my being. It is not Nirvana that I must seek, but my more noble Ego. Alone, must I find the way back to my true nature, then will the outer world be no longer an illusion, a vision of unreality, but a world wherein I shall overcome, of my own power and effort, all sorrow, sickness, and death. While the Buddhist would seek freedom from earthly conditions and from rebirth, through his struggle with ‘The Thirst for Existence’,—the Christian seeks liberation from his lower personality, and looks forward to the awakening of his higher self, that more exalted Ego, which he alone has veiled; so that through his awakening he may at last apprehend this perceptual world in the light of Divine truth.
When we compare those significant words of St. Paul:—‘Yet not I but Christ liveth in me’ (Galatians ii, 20) with the wisdom revealed by the Buddha, the contrast is as that between light and darkness. In St. Paul’s words, we find expressed that positive knowledge, that definite consciousness, which is ever active deep within us, and in virtue of which we take our place as human personalities in the world. According to the Buddhist, mankind has lapsed from spiritual heights, because this material world has pressed him down and implanted in him a ‘thirst for existence’; and this desire he must overcome—he must away! The Christian, on the other hand, says:—‘No! the world is not to blame because of my present state, the fault lies with me alone.’
We Christians dwell upon this earth equipped with our accustomed consciousness; but beneath all awareness and understanding there is a something ever active in each individual personality which in by-gone times found expression in the form of a clairvoyant visioned consciousness, now no more extant, for even while we possessed this faculty, we transgressed. If we would indeed reach the ultimate goal of our existence, then must we first atone for this human error. No man who is advanced in years may say:—‘In my early life I have sinned; it is unjust that I should now be called upon to make atonement for youthful faults, committed at a time when I had not yet attained to that fuller knowledge which is now mine.’ It would be equally wrong for him to assert that it is unfair that he be expected to use his present conscious power to such end that he may compensate for misdeeds enacted while in possession of a different conscious faculty, which faculty no longer exists, for it has been replaced by an intellectual cognition.
The only way in which man may truly atone, when indeed the will is there, is for him to raise himself upward from his present conscious-state and existing Ego, to a higher plane of personality—a more exalted ‘I’. Those words of St. Paul,—‘Yet not I, but Christ liveth in me,’ could then be characterized as follows,—‘Yet not I, but a higher consciousness liveth in me.’ The Christian conception can be expressed in these words:—‘I have fallen from a higher spiritual state, and have entered upon a different condition from that which was previously ordained; but I must rise again; and this I must do, not through that quality of Ego which is mine, but in virtue of a power that can enter into my very being, uplifting me far above that “I”, which I now possess. Such a change can alone come to pass when the Christ-influence is once more active within, leading me onward until the world has lost all power of illusion, and I can apprehend it in its true reality. Ever upward until those baneful forces which have brought sickness and death upon the earth may be vanquished,—conquered by that higher spiritual power which Christ has quickened within my being.’
The innermost essence of Buddhism is best understood by comparing the Buddhist creed with that of Christianity. When we do this, we at once realize why it was that Lessing should have made use of the phrase,—‘Is not all Eternity mine?’—in his book entitled The Education of Mankind. These words imply that if we employ the experiences gained during our repeated reincarnations, in such manner as to suffer the Christ-force to abide ever more and more within us, we shall at last reach the eternal spheres which realms we cannot as yet hope to attain, because we have of our own act, enveloped the inner being as with a veil. The idea of reincarnation will present a wholly different aspect when illumined by the glory of Christianity; but it is not merely the actual belief in rebirth which matters for the present, for with the advance of Christian culture, humanity will gradually be driven to the acceptance of this concept as a truth brought forward by Spiritual Science. But it is important that we should realize that, whereas the deepest sentiments and convictions of the Buddhist’s faith cause him to blame the World for everything that is Maya—the Christian, on the other hand, looks upon himself, and mankind in general, as responsible for all earthly deception and illusion. The while he stores within his innermost being those qualities which are prerequisite and necessary to him, in order that he may rise to that state which we term Redemption. In the Christian sense, however, this does not only imply deliverance, but actual resurrection; for when man has attained to this state, his Ego is already raised to the level of that more exalted ‘I’ from which he has fallen. The Buddhist, when he looks around upon the world, finds himself concerned with an original sin, but feels that he has been placed upon this earth merely for a time, he therefore desires his freedom. The Christian likewise realizes his connection with an original sin, but seeks amendment and to atone for this first transgression. Such is an historical line of thought, for while the Christian feels that his present existence is associated with an incident which took place in olden times among the ancients, he also connects his life with an event that will surely come to pass when he is so advanced that his whole being will shine forth, filled with that radiance which we designate as the essence of the Christ-Being.
Hence it is that during the world’s development we find nothing in Christianity corresponding to successive Buddha-epochs coming one after another, as one might say, unhistorically, each Buddha proclaiming a like doctrine. Christianity brings forward but one single glorious event during the whole of man’s earthly progress. In the same way as the Buddhist pictures the Buddha, seated isolated and alone under the Bodhi tree, at the moment when he was exalted and the great illumination came to him; so does the Christian visualize Jesus of Nazareth at that time when there descended upon Him the all-inspiring Spirit of the cosmos. The baptism of Christ by John, as described in the Bible, is as vivid and clear a picture as is the Buddhist’s conception of the Illumination of the Buddha. Thus we have, in the first case, the Buddha seated under the Bodhi tree, concerned only with his own soul; in the second, Jesus of Nazareth, standing in the Jordan, while there descended upon Him that cosmic essence, that Spirit, symbolically represented as a dove, which entered into His innermost being.
To those who profess Buddhism, there is something about the Buddha and his works which is as a voice ever saying,—‘Thou shalt still this thirst for earthly existence, tear it out by the roots, and follow the Buddha—on to those realms which no earthly words can describe.’ The Christian has a similar feeling, with regard to the life and example of Christ, for there seems to come forth an influence, which makes it possible for him to atone for that primeval deed, committed by ancient humanity. He knows that when in his soul, the Divine cosmic influence (born of that great spiritual world which lies behind this perceptual earth) becomes as great a living force as in the Christ himself, then will he carry into his future reincarnations the increasing realization of the truth of St. Paul’s words:—‘Yet not I, but Christ liveth in me’; and he will be raised more and more, ever upwards, to that Divine state from which he is now fallen. When such a faith is ours, we cannot help but be deeply moved, when we hear the story of how the Buddha, as he addressed his intimate disciples, spoke to them as follows:—‘When I look back upon my former lives, as I might look into an open book, where I can read page after page, and review each life in turn that is passed, I find in every one of these earthly existences that I have built for myself a material body, in which my spirit has dwelt as in a temple; but I now know that this same body in which I have become Buddha will of a verity be the last.’ Speaking of that Nirvana, into which he would so soon enter, the Buddha said:—‘I already feel that the beams (“Balken”) are cracking and the supports giving way; that this physical body which has been raised up for the last time will soon be wholly and finally destroyed.’
Let us compare the above with the words of Christ, as recorded in the Gospel of St. John (ii. 19), when Jesus, intimating that He lived in a body which was external and apart, said:—‘Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.’ Here we have an exactly opposite point of view, which might be interpreted thus:—‘I will perform a deed which shall quicken and make fruitful, all that in this world is of God, and has come down to man from primeval times, and entered into his being.’ These words imply that the Christian, during his recurrent earth lives must exercise his every faculty, in order to give truth to the affirmation:—‘Yet not I, but Christ Iiveth in me.’ We must, however, clearly understand that Christ’s reference to the rebuilding of the temple has an eternal significance and means that the Christ-power ever enters into, and is absorbed by, all who truly realize that they themselves must play a constructive part in the collective evolution of humanity. It is entirely wrong to speak of that event which gave rise to what we term the Christ-impulse, as though we anticipated its recurrence in some form during the further development of mankind.
The Buddhist, when he ponders in accordance with the true concepts of his creed, pictures the advent of several Buddhas, appearing one after another throughout recurring Buddha-epochs, all of which during the course of their earth lives had a similar character and significance. The Christian looks back to a single past event which is described as—The Fall of Man through Sin—while he points to its converse in the Mystery of Golgotha. He who believes that the Christ-event will at some later period be repeated, merely shows that he has not grasped the true essence of the historical evolution of mankind. History tells us that this idea has been frequently put forward in the past and it is likely that it will again reappear in the future.
The course of true history must always be dependent upon some single basic event. Just as the arm of a balance must have one point of equilibrium and the beam from which the scales hang one point of support only; so in the case of a true record of the evolution of mankind there must be some single circumstance to which its historical development (taken either backwards or forwards) ever points. It is as absurd to speak of a repetition of the Christ-event as it would be to assert that the beam of a balance could be supported and swing upon two points. That Eastern wisdom should hold to the belief that a number of similar spiritual personalities succeed each other at intervals, as it does in the case of the Buddhas, is characteristic of the difference existing between the Oriental cosmic conception and that which has sprung up among the Occidental countries, as the result of so much painstaking observation and thought concerning the course of evolution. The Western concept first began to take definite form at the time of the manifestation of the Christ-impulse, which we must regard as a unique circumstance. If we oppose the oneness and singular character of the Christ-event, we argue against the possibility of the true historical evolution of mankind; and to argue against historical evolution betrays a misunderstanding of genuine history.
We can, in its deepest sense, term that consciousness possessed by individual man of indissoluble association with humanity as a whole, the Christian consciousness. Through it we become aware of a definite purpose, underlying the course of all human evolution, and realize that here indeed can be no mere repetition. Such consciousness is an attribute of Christianity, from which it cannot be separated. The real progress which mankind has made during its period of development is shown in the advance from the ancient Eastern cosmic conception to the philosophic concept of modern times—from the unhistoric to the historic—from a belief that the wheels of human chance roll on through a succession of similar events to a conviction that underlying the whole of man’s evolution is a definite purpose, a design of profound significance.
We realize that it is Christianity which has first revealed the true meaning of the doctrine of reincarnation. We can now state that the reason why man must experience recurrent earth lives is that he may be again and again instilled with the true import of material existence; with this object he is confronted with a different aspect of being during each of his incarnations. There is throughout humanity an upward tendency that is not merely confined to the isolated individual, but extends to the entire human race with which we feel ourselves so intimately connected. The Christ-impulse, the centre of all, causes us to realize that man can become conscious of the glory of this divine relation; then no more will he only acknowledge the creed of a Buddha, who cries out to him:—‘Free thyself!’—but will become aware of his union with The Christ, Whose deed has reclaimed him from the consequences of that decadence, symbolically represented as:—‘The Fall of Man through Sin.’
We cannot describe Buddhism better than by showing that it is the after-glow of a cosmic conception, the sun of which has nearly set; but with the advent of Gautama it shone forth with one last brilliant, powerful ray. We revere the Buddha none the less, we honour him as a Great Spirit—as one whose voice called into the past and brought back into this earthly life, once again that mood which brings with it so clear a consciousness of man’s connection with ancient primordial wisdom. On the other hand, we know that the Christ-impulse points resolutely towards the future, ever penetrating more and more deeply into the very soul of man; so that humanity may realize that it is not release and freedom that it should seek, but Resurrection that glorious transfiguration of our earthly being. It is in such a metamorphosis that we find the inner meaning of our material life. It is futile to search among dogmas, concepts and ideas for the active principle of existence; for the vital element of life lies in our impulses, emotions and feelings, and it is through these moods that we may apprehend the true significance of man’s evolution and development.
There may be some who feel themselves more drawn toward Buddhism than toward Christianity; and we must admit that even in our time there is something about Buddhism which inspires a certain sympathy in many minds, and which is to a certain extent in the nature of a Buddha-mood or disposition. Such a feeling, however, did not exist with Goethe, who sought to free himself from the pangs which he endured owing to the narrow-mindedness he found everywhere about him, at the time of his first sojourn in Weimar. His endeavour in this respect was wholly due to his love of life and conviction that interwoven throughout all external being is the same spiritual essence which is the true origin of the Divine element in man. Goethe strove to achieve this liberation from distress through observation of the outer world, going from plant to plant, from mineral to mineral, and from one work of art to another—ever seeking that underlying spirit from which the human soul emanates; the while he sought to unify himself with that Divine essence which manifests throughout all external things.
Goethe, when in converse with Schopenhauer regarding the influence of his thoughts and ideas upon his pupil, once said:—‘When your carefully considered and worthy conceptions come into contact with a wholly different trend of thought, they will be found at variance with one another.’ Schopenhauer had established a maxim which, expressed in his oft-repeated words, was as follows:—‘Life is ever precarious, and it is through deep meditation that I seek to alleviate its burdens.’ What he really sought was that illumination which would reveal and make clear the true origin [and intent] of existence. It was therefore only natural that Buddhist concepts should enter his mind and mingle with his ideas, thus causing him to ponder upon this olden creed.
During the progress of the nineteenth century the different branches of human culture have yielded such great and far-reaching results, that the mind of man seems incapable of adjusting itself in harmony with the flood of new ideas which continually pour in upon it, as a consequence of effort expended in scientific research; and it feels ever more and more helpless before the enormous mass of facts which is the unceasing product of such investigations. We have found this vast world of accepted truths to be wonderfully in accord with the concepts of Spiritual Science, but it is worthy of note that during the last century, although man’s reasoning powers increased greatly nevertheless they soon failed to keep pace with the immense inflow of scientific data. Thus it was that just toward the close of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth century, man realized that he could not hope to understand and to master all this new knowledge by means of the human intellect alone; for everything about us is connected with, and extends into the cosmos and the world of spirit—and this outer realm is still beyond the limits of man’s normal faculties of comprehension. He must, therefore, seek another way, some as yet untrodden path.
Hence it is that mankind has sought a cosmic philosophy, not wholly at variance with all those facts coming from the outer world which make inward appeal to the soul. Spiritual Science is based upon the most profound conceptions and experiences of divine wisdom, and is ever ready to deal with all fresh truths and data brought forward by external science, to assimilate them, and throw new light upon their significance, showing at the same time that in all which has actuality in external life, is embodied the divine essence—the spirit. There are some people, however, who find the concepts of Spiritual Science inconvenient and unsuitable. They turn away from the world of reality, which demands so much thought and effort for its unfoldment, and, according to their own knowledge and personal ideas, seek a higher plane merely through the development of their individual souls. Thus we have what may be termed an ‘Unconscious Buddhism’, which has long existed and been active in the philosophies of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. When an ‘Unconscious Buddhist’ comes into contact with true Buddhism then, because of indolence and inertia, he feels himself more ‘at home’ with this Eastern creed than with European Spiritual Science, which comes to grips with widespread facts, because it knows that throughout the entire range of reality the Divine spirit is ever manifest.
There is no doubt that the present sympathy and interest evinced with regard to Buddhism is due, in part, to feebleness of will and want of faith, faith, born of undeveloped spiritual knowledge. The whole essence of the Christian cosmic conception, which seems to have been in Goethe’s mind, demands that man shall not give way to his own weak spiritual understanding and talk of ‘the limitations of human knowledge’, but feel that there is within him a something which will carry him above all illusion and bring him to truth and reality, thus freeing him for evermore from terrestrial existence. A cosmic conception of this nature may call for much patient resignation, but such is of quite a different order to that which shrinks before the contemplation of the limits of human understanding. Resignation, in the Kantian sense, implies that mankind is altogether incapable of penetrating the deep secrets of the cosmos, and its chief feature lies in the special acknowledgment of the feebleness of man’s comprehension; but that of Goethe is of a different character, and is expressed in these words:—‘Thou hast not as yet come so far, that thou canst apprehend the Universe in all its glorious reality, but thou art capable of developing thyself.’ Resignation of this kind leads on to that stage of growth and progress when man will truly be in a position to call forth his Christ-nature from within his being; he yields, because he realizes that the highest point of his mundane development has not yet been attained. Such an attitude is noble and fully in accord with human understanding. It implies that we pass from life to life, with the consciousness of being, looking ever forward into the future in the knowledge that with regard to recurrent earthly existence all eternity is ours.
When we consider man’s evolution, we find ourselves confronted with two modern currents of thought, each leading to a different cosmic conception. One of which, due to Schopenhauer, pictures the world with all its misery and suffering, as of such nature that we can only realize and appreciate man’s true position when we gaze upon the works of the great artists. In these masterpieces we oft-times find portrayed the form and figure of a being, who through asceticism, has attained to something approaching to liberation from earthly existence, and already hovers, as it were, above this lower terrestrial life. Fundamentally, Schopenhauer was of opinion that in the case of a human being thus freed, retrospection concerning material conditions no longer exists and that herein lies the pre-eminent characteristic of such liberation. Hence, he who has thus won his way to freedom, can truly say:—‘I am still clothed in my bodily garment, but it has now lost all significance, and there is nought left about me which might in time to come recall my earthly life. I strive ever upward, in anticipation of that state with which I shall gain contact when I have at last wholly overcome the world, and all that appertains thereto.’ Of such nature was the sentiment of Schopenhauer, after he had become imbued with those ideas and convictions, which Buddhist teaching has spread abroad in the world.
Goethe, on the other hand, led on by his truly Christian impulse, regarded the world after the manner of his character—Faust. When we cease to look about us in trivial mood, when we truly realize that all material works must perish, and death at last overtake the body, then with Goethe we can say:—‘If we but take heed and ponder concerning our earthly activities there will come knowledge born of experience, teaching us that while all those things wrought and accomplished which are of this world must pass away, that which we have built up within ourselves through toil and striving during our contact with the ‘School of Earthly Life’, shall not perish, for such is indeed everlasting.’
So with Faust we think not of how our mundane works may endure, but look forward to the fruits which they shall bring forth in the course of the soul’s eternal life; thus are we carried far out and beyond the narrow confines of the Buddhist creed, into a world of thought which finds brief expression in those impressive words of Goethe:-
‘Eons cannot erase
The traces of my days on earth.’
Buddha
Von Buddha und dem Buddhismus ist in unserer Zeit verhältnismäßig viel die Rede. Diese Tatsache darf dem Betrachter der Menschheitsentwickelung um so interessanter sein, als dieses Bewußtsein von dem Wesen des Buddhismus oder, vielleicht besser gesagt, diese Sehnsucht, den Buddhismus zu begreifen, gar noch nicht so alt ist innerhalb unseres abendländischen Geisteslebens. Wir brauchen dabei nur an die bedeutsamste Persönlichkeit zu denken, welche um die Wende des achtzehnten und neunzehnten Jahrhunderts so gewaltig in unser abendländisches Geistesleben eingegriffen hat und die bis in unsere Zeit herein so gewaltig fortwirkt: an Goethe. Wenn wir Goethes Leben, Goethes Schaffen, Goethes Wissen verfolgen, dann sehen wir, daß in alledem Buddha und der Buddhismus noch gar keine Rolle spielen. Und verhältnismäßig bald sehen wir an einem Geiste, der in gewissem Sinne sogar Goethes Schüler war, an Schopenhauer, wie in seinem Wirken bereits mächtig der Einfluß des Buddhismus aufleuchtet. Dann wird das Interesse für diese morgenländische Geistesrichtung immer größer und größer. Und in unserer Zeit liegt es für viele Menschen schon in ihnen, sich mit demjenigen auseinanderzusetzen, was eigentlich in die Menschheitsentwickelung eingeflossen ist durch das, was sich an den Namen des großen Buddha knüpft.
Nun darf allerdings gesagt werden, daß merkwürdigerweise die meisten Menschen heute noch immer mit dem Buddhismus einen anderen Begriff verbinden, der eigentlich, wenn man auf das Wesentliche sieht, doch nicht in solcher Art, wie es häufig geschieht, mit dem Buddhismus verknüpft werden sollte: nämlich der Begriff der wiederholten Erdenleben, der hier in diesen Vorträgen immer wieder und wieder eine Rolle spielte. Wir dürfen wohl sagen, daß für die meisten Menschen, die sich heute für den Buddhismus interessieren, in gewisser Beziehung diese Idee von den wiederholten Erdenleben oder auch — wie wir sie nennen — die Idee der Reinkarnation ganz wesentlich sich mit dem Buddhismus verbunden zeigt. Nun muß auf der anderen Seite gesagt werden, so grotesk es klingt: Für den, der tiefer in die Dinge eindringt, erscheint dieses Zusammenkoppeln von Buddhismus und der Idee der wiederholten Erdenleben fast so, wie wenn man etwa sagen wollte: Man könnte das beste Verständnis für die Kunstwerke des Altertums bei denjenigen suchen, welche diese Kunstwerke im Beginne der mittelalterlichen WeltentwickeJung zerstört haben! Es klingt dies grotesk, aber dennoch ist es so. Es kann bald einleuchten, daß es so ist, wenn man bedenkt, daß alles Streben, auf das der Buddhismus abzielt, darauf gerichtet ist, diese ihm ja allerdings als ganz gewiß erscheinenden wiederholten Erdenleben soviel wie möglich zu unterschätzen, ihre Zahl soviel wie möglich abzukürzen. Also Erlösung von den Wiedergeburten, den wiederholten Erdenleben ist das, was wir als den innersten Nerv der ganzen buddhistischen Geistesrichtung anzusehen haben. Befreiung, Erlösung von den wiederholten ErdenJeben, die ihm allerdings als eine sichere Tatsache gelten, ist sein Wesen.
Schon eine, man möchte sagen oberflächliche Betrachtung der Geschichte unseres abendländischen Geisteslebens könnte uns lehren, wie die Idee der wiederholten Erdenleben eigentlich nichts zu tun hat mit dem Verständnis für Buddhismus und umgekehrt. Denn innerhalb des abendländischen Geisteslebens tritt uns ja die Idee der wiederholten Erdenleben in einer so grandiosen Weise bei einer Persönlichkeit entgegen, die ganz gewiß unbeeinflußt geblieben ist von der buddhistischen Denkergesinnung: nämlich bei Lessing in seiner reifsten Abhandlung über «Die Erziehung des Menschengeschlechtes»; diese schließt er mit seinem Bekenntnis zu den wiederholten Erdenleben. Im Ausblick zu dieser Idee ertönt uns aus der Abhandlung «Die Erziehung des Menschengeschlechtes» von Lessing das bedeutungsvolle Wort: «Ist nicht die ganze Ewigkeit mein?» So werden für Lessing die wiederholten Erdenleben in Hinsicht auf die Fruchtbarkeit des Erdentrachtens das Dokument, das uns sagt: Wir sind nicht umsonst auf der Erde; wir wirken innerhalb des Erdenlebens und schauen auf ein immer sich erweiterndes Erdenleben hin, in welchem wir die Früchte der vergangenen Erdenleben zur Reife bringen können. — Also gerade der Ausblick auf eine inhaltsvolle, fruchtbringende Zukunft und das Bewußtsein, daß im Menschenleben sich etwas findet, was im Hinblick auf die wiederholten Erdenleben sich sagen darf: du wirkst fort! — das ist es, worauf es im wesentlichen Lessing ankommt.
Worauf es im wesentlichen dem Buddhismus ankommt, ist, sich zu sagen: Man muß solch ein Wissen, solch eine Weisheit erringen, die uns von dem befreien kann, was uns als wiederholte Erdenleben vor dem geistigen Auge stehen kann. Nur dann sind wir in der Lage, ruhig einzugehen in etwas, was mit dem Worte Ewigkeit belegt werden darf, wenn wir uns in irgendeinem dieser Leben von den folgenden, die sich daran anschließen sollen, befreien können.
Nun war es immer mein Bestreben, im Verlaufe dieser Wintervorträge zu zeigen, wie die Idee der wiederholten Erdenleben keineswegs für die Geisteswissenschaft etwa aus irgendwelchen alten Überlieferungen geschöpft ist, auch nicht aus buddhistischen, sondern wie sie uns einer unbefangenen Beobachtung und Betrachtung des Lebens im geistesforscherischen Sinne gerade in unserer Zeit sich uns aufdrängen, ergeben muß. So erscheint es wie eine Außerlichkeit, wenn man gerade den Buddhismus unmittelbar zusammenstellt mit der Idee der wiederholten Erdenleben. Wir müssen vielmehr, wenn wir das Wesen des Buddhismus ins Auge fassen wollen, nach ganz anderem unsern geistigen Blick richten. Da muß ich noch einmal an das Gesetz in der Menschheitsentwickelung erinnern, das uns schon bei der Betrachtung des großen Zarathustra entgegengetreten ist und an dem sich uns gezeigt hat, daß die menschliche Seele mit ihrer ganzen Verfassung im Laufe der ZeitentwickeJlung verschiedene Zustände durchgemacht hat, daß die ErJlebnisse, von denen uns die äußere Geschichte, die äußeren Urkunden berichten, für die Menschheit im Grunde genommen nur eine späte Phase in der Menschheitsentwickelung sind, und daß, wenn wir zurückgehen in vorhistorische Zeiten, wir vielmehr geisteswissenschaftlich auch eine solche Seelenverfassung der Vormenschen sehen können, in welcher das menschliche Bewußtsein in einem ganz anderen Zustande war. Nur kurz sei es wiederholt.
Die Art und Weise, wie wir heute im normalen Menschenleben die Dinge ansehen, mit unsern Sinnen verfolgen, mit unserem an das Gehirn gebundenen Verstand kombinieren, um sie zur Lebensweisheit, zu unserer Wissenschaft zu machen, diese im wesentlichen intellektuelle Art unseres Bewußtseins hat sich erst aus einer anderen Form des Bewußtseins entwickelt. Darauf ist schon aufmerksam gemacht worden, und darauf muß heute noch besonders hingewiesen werden. Beim Vormenschen war eine andere Art des Bewußtseins vorhanden: In der chaotischen Ungeordnetheit unseres Traumlebens haben wir einen letzten Rest, eine Art Erbstück, aber ein atavistisches Erbstück von dem, was einstmals als ein gewissermaßen normaler menschlicher Seelenzustand vorhanden war: ein altes Hellsehen, durch das die Menschheit in einem Zustande, der zwischen Wachen und Schlafen liegt, in das, was hinter der Sinneswelt verborgen ist, hineingesehen hat. Während heute im wesentlichen unser Bewußtsein zwischen Wachen und Schlafen abwechselt und im Wachen die intelligente Seelenverfassung gesucht wird, war in alten Zeiten die Sache so, daß dieMenschen in den auf- und abwogenden Bildern, die aber nicht so bedeutungslos wie die Bilder des Traumes waren, sondern eindeutig auf übersinnliche Geschehnisse und Dinge zu beziehen waren, eine Art von Bewußtseinszustand hatten, aus dem sich nach und nach unser heutiger intellektualistischer Bewußtseinszustand entwickelt hat. So können wir also auf eine Art Hellsehen der Vormenschheit und eine langwährende Entwickelung des menschlichen Bewußtseins zurückgehen. Durch jenes alte traumhafte Hellsehen konnte die Vormenschheit in die übersinnliche Welt hineinsehen, und aus dem Zusammenhange mit dem Übersinnlichen gewann sie nicht nur ein Wissen, sondern das, was man nennen könnte: innerste Befriedigung der Seele an der geistigen Welt, Glückseligkeit in dem Empfinden des Zusammenhanges mit einer geistigen Welt. Denn so gewiß es heute für den Menschen in seinem sinnlichen, intellektuellen Bewußtsein ist, daß sein Blut aus Stoffen besteht, die im physischen Raume draußen sind, ja, daß sein ganzer Organismus aus diesen Stoffen zusammengesetzt ist, so gewiß war es für den Menschen der Vorzeit, daß er in bezug auf seinen geistig-seelischen Teil herausentsprungen ist aus dem, was er als geistige Welt mit seinem hellseherischen Bewußtsein erblickte.
Es ist auch schon darauf aufmerksam gemacht worden, wie gewisse Erscheinungen der Menschheitsgeschichte, die auch durch die äußeren Tatsachen uns gesagt werden, nur verstanden werden können, wenn man einen solchen Urzustand des menschlichen Erdenlebens voraussetzt. Immer mehr und mehr — darauf wurde bereits aufmerksam gemacht - kommt auch die äußere Wissenschaft darauf, in Urzeiten der Menschheit nicht mehr so etwas anzunehmen, wie es die materialistische Anthropologie des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts getan hat, daß in den Urzeiten ein solcher Urzustand allgemein gewesen wäre, wie er heute bei den primitivsten Völkerschaften gefunden wird, sondern immer mehr und mehr zeigt sich, daß im Urzustand der Menschheit hohe theoretische Anschauungen vorhanden waren über die geistige Welt, nur daß diese bildlich gegeben waren. Was wir in den Sagen und Legenden haben, das können wir, wenn wir richtig in sie eindringen, nur begreifen, wenn wir es auf eine Urweisheit der Menschheit zurückführen, die auf ganz andere Art zur Menschheit geflossen ist als die intellektualistische Wissenschaft der heutigen Zeit. Es ist zwar heute noch nicht viel Sympathie für eine solche Anschauung vorhanden, daß dasjenige, was wir bei primitiven Völkern finden, nicht der geistige Zustand der Urmenschheit sei, sondern etwas in Dekadenz Befindliches von einer früheren Höhe Heruntergestiegenes; es ist nicht viel Sympathie für eine Anschauung vorhanden, wonach bei allen Völkern ursprünglich eine hohe Weisheit vorhanden war, die hellseherisch geschöpft worden ist; aber die Tatsachen werden die Menschheit dazu zwingen, auch hypothetisch so etwas anzunehmen, was die Geisteswissenschaft aus ihren Quellen erforscht und was — wie es an manchem anderen gezeigt werden könnte — die Naturwissenschaft durchaus bewahrheitet. So wird sich bewahrheiten, was jetzt eben über einen etwaigen zukünftigen Verlauf der Menschheitsentwickelung in wissenschaftlicher Beziehung charakterisiert worden ist.
Wir blicken also zurück auf eine Art Urweisheit, aber auch auf ein Urgefühl und Urempfinden der Menschheit, die wir als einen hellseherischen Zusammenhang des Menschen mit der geistigen Welt charakterisieren können. Nun ist auch leicht zu begreifen — wir haben schon bei Besprechung des Zarathustrismus darauf aufmerksam machen können —, daß bei dem Übergang von der alten Seelenverfassung, also von dem hellseherischen Zustand der menschlichen Seele zu dem intellektuellen, unbefangenen Anschauen der äußeren Sinneswelt, zwei Strömungen auftreten können. Die eine Strömung findet sich insbesondere durch die Zeitentwickelung hindurch bei denjenigen Völkern, welche die alten Erinnerungen und auch die alten Empfindungen sich in der Art bewahrt hatten, daß sie sagten: Es war die Menschheit einst in einem hellseherischen Zustande mit der geistigen Welt verbunden, und sie ist dann herabgestiegen auf die Sinneswelt. Das breitete sich auf das Gesamtempfinden der Seele so aus, daß gesagt wurde: Wir sind herausgetreten in die Welt der Erscheinungen, die ist aber Illusion, ist Maja. Was des Menschen wahres Wesen ist, das kannte der Mensch doch nur und hing mit ihm zusammen, als er mit der geistigen Welt in Verbindung war. — So durchdringt die Menschen und die Völker, welche eine solche Ahnung an einen uralten hellseherischen Zustand sich bewahrt hatten, eine gewisse Wehmut über etwas Verlorenes und ein gewisses Hinwegsehen über das, was in der unmittelbaren sinnlichen Umgebung ist und was der Verstand des Menschen begreifen kann. Dagegen können wir eine andere Strömung charakterisieren, die wir insbesondere beim Zarathustrismus verfolgen können. Sie findet sich bei den Menschen und Völkern, die sich sagten: Wir wollen angreifen die neue Welt, die uns im Grunde genommen erst jetzt gegeben ist. Die Menschen, die sich zu diesem Angreifen der neuen Welt bekannten, blickten nicht mit Wehmut auf das zurück, was sie verloren hatten, sondern sie fühlten immer mehr und mehr, daß sie sich mit all den Kräften verbinden müssen, mit denen sie durch das alles hindurchschauen können, was uns als Sinneswelt umgibt, und zu denen auch der Geist bei einer wirklich in die Tiefe dringenden Betrachtung für das menschliche Wissen kommen kann. Solche Menschen hatten den Drang, sich mit der Welt zu verbinden, nicht zurückzusehen, sondern vorwärtszublicken, Kämpfer zu sein und sich zu sagen: In die Welt, die uns nunmehr gegeben ist, ist dasselbe Göttlich-Geistige verflochten, in das wir in der Vorzeit eingesponnen waren. Wir haben es in der Umgebung zu suchen, wir haben uns mit dem guten Elemente des Geistigen zu verbinden und dadurch die Weltentwickelung zu fördern. — Das ist im wesentlichen jene Weltanschauungsströmung, die von der mehr nördlich gelegenen Partie des asiatischen Landes ausgegangen ist: nördlich von jenem Territorium, wo der Mensch mit Wehmut auf das Verlorene zurückblickte.
So entstand also auf Indiens Boden ein Geistesleben, das ganz und gar in dem Zurückblicken auf das frühere Verbundensein mit der geistigen Welt zu begreifen ist. Wenn wir vor uns treten lassen, was in Indien entstand als die Sankhya-Philosophie oder als die Yoga-Philosophie oder auch als die Yoga-Schulung, so können wir es zusammenfassen, indem wir sagen: Der Inder war immer bestrebt, den Zusammenhang wiederzufinden mit denjenigen Welten, aus denen er herausgetreten ist; was ihn in der Welt umgab, das versuchte er abzustreifen. Wegzukommen suchte er von dem, wie er mit der äußeren Sinneswelt verwoben und verbunden ist, und durch Abstreifen der Sinneswelt den Zusammenhang wiederzufinden mit den geistigen Welten, aus denen der Mensch heruntergestiegen ist. Yoga ist Wiederverbinden mit der geistigen Welt, Heraustreten aus der Sinneswelt, Befreiung von der Sinneswelt. Nur wenn man diese Voraussetzungen macht für die Grundstimmung des indischen Geisteslebens, kann man begreifen, wie auf dem Boden Indiens — wenige Jahrhunderte, bevor sich für das abendländische Leben der christliche Impuls geltend machte — der große gewaltige Impuls des Buddha wie eine letzte Abendröte des indischen Geisteslebens vor unserem geistigen Blick aufleuchtet. Verstehen kann man die Buddha-Gestalt nur auf dem Boden, den wir eben seiner Stimmung nach charakterisiert haben. Da müssen wir sagen: Wenn wir eine solche Grundstimmung voraussetzen, begreifen wir es, daß auf dem Boden Indiens eine Denkweise und eine Gesinnung entstehen konnten, welche die Welt in einem Niedergange erblickte, in einem Herabsteigen von der geistigen Welt zur Sinnes-Illusion, zu Maja, zu dem, was die «große Täuschung», die Maja eben ist. Begreiflich ist es auch, daß aus den Anschauungen der äußeren Welt, in welche der Mensch so sehr hineinverwoben ist, für den Inder sich die Vorstellung ergab, daß dieses Heruntersteigen gleichsam etappenweise, in sich wiederholenden Stufen geschieht. So daß wir es in der indischen Weltanschauung sozusagen nicht mit einem Herabsteigen in einer geraden Linie zu tun haben, sondern mit einem Herabsteigen von Epoche zu Epoche. Aus dieser Anschauung heraus begreifen wir die allerdings tiefsinnige Stimmung einer Kultur, die wir aber doch als AbendröteKultur bezeichnen müssen, denn als solche müssen wir die Buddha-Idee charakterisieren, die einer solchen Weltanschauung entstammt.
Wir werden deshalb etwa sagen können: Der Inder blickte in eine solche Zeit hinauf, wo die Menschheit mit der geistigen Welt verknüpft war, dann sank sie herab bis auf eine gewisse Stufe, stieg wieder hinauf, sank wieder hinunter, wurde wieder heraufgehoben, sank wieder herab — so aber, daß jedes folgende Hinabsinken immer ein weiteres Hinabsinken war. Jeder Aufstieg ist etwas wie eine Abschlagszahlung, die der Menschheit geboten wird, damit sie nicht auf einmal aufzunehmen hat, was sie ja mit diesem Heruntersteigen betreten hat. Jedesmal, wenn eine solche Epoche des Niederganges zu Ende ist, steht für die alte indische Weltanschauung eine solche Gestalt auf, welche als ein «Buddha» bezeichnet wird. Der letzte der Buddhas ist derjenige, welcher in dem Sohn des Königs Suddhodana — in dem Gotama Buddha — inkarniert, das heißt verkörpert war. Der Inder sieht auf andere Buddhas hin und sagt sich: Seit der Zeit, da die Menschheit auf der Höhe der geistigen Welt gestanden hat, sind eine ganze Anzahl von Buddhas dagewesen; seit dem letzten Niedergange der Welt sind fünf Buddhas erschienen. — Die Buddhas bedeuten immer, daß die Menschheit nicht in einem Abfallen in die Maja heruntersinken soll, sondern daß immer wieder und wieder etwas von der uralten Weisheit gebracht werden soll, wovon sie wieder zehren kann, weil sich aber die Menschheit in einem absteigenden Sinne bewegt, verliert sich immer wieder und wieder diese Weisheit, und es muß dann ein neuer Buddha kommen, der ihr wieder eine solche Abschlagszahlung bringt. Der letzte war eben der Gotama Buddha. Bevor nun ein solcher Buddha, wenn wir trivial sprechen dürfen, zur Buddha-Würde durch seine verschiedenen Leben hindurch hinaufsteigt, muß er zu einer anderen Würde kommen: zu der Würde eines Bodhisattva. Die indische Weltanschauung sieht auch in dem Königssohn des Suddhodana, in dem Gotama Buddha, bis zu dessen neunundzwanzigstem Jahre nicht einen Buddha, sondern einen Bodhisattva. Es ist also dieser Bodhisattva, der in das Königshaus des Suddhodana hereingeboren worden ist, durch die Anstrengungen seines Lebens zu jener inneren Erleuchtung aufgestiegen, die symbolisch als das «Sitzen unter dem Bodhibaum» geschildert wird und dann in der «Predigt von Benares» zum Ausdruck kommt. In seinem neunundzwanzigsten Jahre ist dieser Bodhisattva durch diese Vorgänge zur Buddha-Würde emporgestiegen und konnte nunmehr als Buddha wieder der Menschheit einen letzten Rest der uralten Weisheit bringen, welche die folgenden Jahrhunderte — nach indischer Anschauung — wieder verbrauchen dürfen. Wenn die Menschheit so tief heruntergestiegen sein wird, daß die Weisheit, welche dieser letzte Buddha gebracht hat, verbraucht sein wird, dann wird ein anderer Bodhisattva zur Buddha-Würde aufsteigen, der Buddha der Zukunft, der «Maitreya-Buddha», der nach der indischen Weltanschauung für die Zukunft erwartet wird.
Nun betrachten wir, was sozusagen wie eine uralte Weisheit dem Buddha die Seele durchdrang in dem Moment, da er eben von einem Bodhisattva zum Buddha aufgestiegen war. Daraus können wir dann auch am besten ersehen, was dieser Aufstieg von einem Bodhisattva — der man durch die Anstrengungen vieler Leben hindurch wird — zu einem Buddha zu bedeuten hat.
Was sich in der Seele dieses Bodhisattva noch abspielte, wird uns durch eine Legende erzählt. Bis zu seinem neunundzwanzigsten Jahre hatte er nur gesehen, was er in dem Königshause des Suddhodana hat sehen können. Da wurde von ihm alles ferngehalten, was wir menschliches Elend nennen können, das sich in das Leben hineinstellt und immerfort auf den fruchtbringenden Fortlauf des Lebens als solches zerstörend wirkt. So wuchs denn der Bodhisattva heran — allerdings mit seinem Bodhisattva-Bewußtsein, das heißt mit einem Bewußtsein, das ganz durchdrungen war aus seinen früheren Erdenleben mit innerer Weisheit — schauend nur das Fruchtbringende, das Werdende des Lebens. Dann trat er hinaus — die Legende ist bekannt genug, wir brauchen uns daher nur das Wesentliche derselben vor Augen zu führen — und wurde ansichtig dessen, wessen er nie in dem Königspalaste hatte ansichtig werden können: eines Leichnams. Er sah an dem Leichnam, daß der Tod das Leben ablöst: das Todeselement tritt hinein in das, was fruchtbringendes, fortzeugendes Leben ist. Er wurde ansichtig eines kranken und siechen Menschen: in die Gesundheit tritt die Krankheit hinein. Und er wurde ansichtig eines Greises, der müde dahinwankte: das Alter tritt hinein in das, was jugendfrisch sich zum Dasein erhebt. Wir müssen uns klar sein — was die indische Weltanschauung voraussetzt im Sinne des Buddhismus selber —, daß der, welcher aus einem Bodhisattva ein Buddha geworden ist, alle solche Erlebnisse mit seinem Bodhisattva-Bewußtsein sah. Er sah also in das weisheitsvolle Werden das zerstörende Element des Daseins hineingestellt. Das wirkte auf seine große Seele so, daß er sich sagte — so erzählt die Legende —: «Leiden durchzieht das Leben!» Nun stellen wir uns so recht auf den Standpunkt desjenigen, der aus dem Buddhismus heraus selber diese Dinge ansieht, auf den Standpunkt dieses Bodhisattva Gotama, der mit hoher Weisheit — deren er sich allerdings noch nicht voll bewußt war, die aber in ihm Jebte — bisher in diesem Leben das fruchtbare Werden durchschaut hatte und jetzt den Blick auf das Zerstörende, auf das untergängliche Element des Daseins richtete. Stellen wir uns auf einen solchen Standpunkt, wie der Buddha selber sich vermöge der Voraussetzungen seines Daseins stellen mußte, dann können wir uns vorstellen, dieser Buddha mit seiner großen Seele mußte sich sagen: Ja, wenn wir nun erreichen Weisheit, Wissen, so führt uns dieses Wissen zum Werden, dann drängt sich in unsere Seele herein eine Idee von einem immer fortgehenden fruchtbaren Werden. Weisheit also gibt die Idee von fruchtbarem Werden. Dann aber schauen wir hinaus in die Welt. Da sehen wir ein zerstörendes Element: Krankheit, Alter und Tod. Weisheit, Wissen kann es nicht sein, was etwa in das Leben hineinmischen würde Alter, Krankheit und Tod. Etwas anderes muß es sein. Man kann also — so etwa konnte der große Gotama sagen, oder besser gesagt empfinden, weil er sich seines Bodhisattva-Bewußtseins nicht klar war — von Weisheit durchdrungen sein, aus der Weisheit heraus die Idee des fruchtbaren Werdens erlangen, aber das Leben zeigt uns Zerstörtes, Krankheit und Tod und manches andere, was sich zerstörend hineinstellt ins Leben. — Da gibt es etwas zu erkennen, was der Bodhisattva noch nicht ganz durchschauen kann. Der Bodhisattva ist durch Leben und Leben gegangen, hat Wiederverkörperungen und Wiederverkörperungen für seine Seele so angewendet, daß die Weisheit in ihm immer größer und größer geworden ist, so daß er das Leben von einer höheren Warte herab anzusehen vermag. Noch nicht durchdrang, indem er nach seinem Heraustreten aus dem Königspalast nun ansichtig wurde des wirklichen Lebens, das Wesen desselben sein Bewußtsein. Was wir von Leben zu Leben als Wissen in uns sammeln, als Weisheit in uns aufstapeln können, kann uns zuletzt doch nicht zum Begreifen der eigentlichen Geheimnisse des Daseins führen. Die müssen woanders liegen, müssen außerhalb des Lebens liegen, das wir durchleben von Verkörperung zu Verkörperung.
Diese Idee wurde fruchtbar in des großen Gotama Seele und führte gerade zu der Erleuchtung, die man nennt die «Erleuchtung unter dem Bodhibaum». Da wurde ihm klar — wir können es so umschreiben —: Wir sind in einer Welt der Maja oder Illusion. Wir durchleben Leben nach Leben in dieser Welt der Maja oder Illusion, in die wir aus einem geistigen Dasein herausgetreten sind. Wir können in diesem Leben zu Würden und Würden in geistiger Beziehung aufsteigen. Aber durch das, was uns dieses Leben gibt — wenn wir durch noch so viele Verkörperungen hindurchgehen und immer weiser und weiser durch dieses Leben werden — können wir nicht das große Daseinsrätsel lösen, das uns in Alter, Krankheit und Tod anstarrt. — Da ging ihm auf, daß die Lehre vom Leid für ihn eine noch größere sein müsse als die Weisheit eines Bodhisattva. Und seine Erleuchtung bestand nun darin, daß er sich sagte: Also ist das, was sich ausbreitet in der Welt der Maja oder Illusion, nicht wahre Weisheit, ist so wenig wahre Weisheit, daß wir selbst nach vielen Leben aus diesem äußeren Dasein nicht ein Verständnis für das Leidvolle saugen können und loskommen können vom Leid. Dieses äußere Dasein also hat in sich einverwoben etwas anderes, was der Weisheit, was allem Wissen fernsteht. — Dadurch war es von selbst gegeben, daß in einem weisheitslosen Element dasjenige von dem Buddha gesucht worden ist, was das Leben durchzieht mit Alter, Krankheit und Tod. — Weisheit dieser Welt ist es nicht, was irgendwie befreiend wirken kann, sondern etwas anderes, was gar nicht aus dieser Welt gewonnen werden kann, was nur gewonnen werden kann, wenn man sich völlig zurückzieht von der Welt des äußeren Daseins, in welcher Wiedergeburt auf Wiedergeburt, Verkörperung auf Verkörperung folgt. — So sah der Buddha von diesem Augenblicke an in der Lehre vom Leid das Grundelement, das die Menschheit zu ihrem weiteren Fortschritt braucht. So sah er in einem weisheitslosen Element, das er nannte den Durst nach Dasein, den weisheitslosen Durst nach Dasein, die Veranlassung dafür,daß dasLeid in die Welt hineinkommt. Weisheit auf der einenSeite, weisheitsloser Durst nach Dasein auf der anderen Seite, das war es, was ihn wieder dazu führte, sich zu sagen: Also kann nur die Befreiung von diesen Wiedergeburten, von diesen wiederholten Erdenleben, die ja selbst in der höchsten Weisheit uns nicht befreien können vom Leid, dasjenige sein, was zur Erlösung, zur wahren Menschenfreiheit führen kann. Deshalb sann er nach den Mitteln, die den Menschen aus der Welt hinausführen können, in welcher seine Wiederverkörperungen liegen, in jene Welt hinein — die wir nur richtig verstehen müssen, dann werden wir nicht die grotesken, phantastischen Begriffe bekommen, die sehr häufig darüber im Umlaufe sind —, die Buddha das Nirwana nannte.
Was für eine Welt ist das Nirwana, in das der eintreten soll, der es im Leben so weit gebracht hat, daß der Durst nach Dasein gelöscht ist, daß er nicht mehr verlangt, wiedergeboren zu werden? Es ist die Welt, die man nur dann richtig bezeichnen kann, wenn man sich sagt: Im Sinne des Buddhismus kann die eigentliche Welt der Erlösung, der Seligkeit mit nichts bezeichnet werden, was irgendwie aus dem genommen wird, was wir in der Sinneswelt, in der Raumeswelt, in der Welt des physischen Daseins rings um uns herum wahrnehmen. Alles, was wir in der Raumeswelt, in der physischen Welt wahrnehmen, kann uns nur etwas geben, was nicht auf eine Befreiung hinweist, deshalb dürfen wir keines der Prädikate auf die Welt anwenden, in welcher der Mensch seine Befreiung suchen will. Laßt also in euch schweigen alle die Prädikate, alle die Worte, die der Mensch auftreiben kann, wenn er etwas in der Umwelt bezeichnet. Von alledem ist nichts in der Welt der Seligkeit. Es gibt keine Möglichkeit, sich eine Vorstellung zu machen von der Welt, in die derjenige eingeht, der die Wiederverkörperungen überwunden hat. Man kann sie daher nur mit einem negativen Wort bezeichnen: Sie ist alles das nicht, was wir in der Umwelt wahrnehmen! Daher lege man ihr nur eine negative Bezeichnung bei, sage von dieser Welt: Der, für den alles ausgelöscht ist, womit er hier in diesem Dasein verbunden ist, der wird kennenlernen, wie es dort ausschauen wird, wenn er in diese Welt eingehen wird, die hier nur mit einem negativen Wort — mit Nirwana — bezeichnet werden kann.
So ist diese Welt für den Buddhisten eine solche, die mit keinem unserer Worte bezeichnet werden kann. Nicht ein Nichts, sondern ein so volles, erfülltes, mit Seligkeit erfülltes Dasein, daß er keine Worte dafür hat: so wenig will er damit ein Nichts bezeichnen. Damit haben wir schon den eigentlichen Nerv des Buddhismus und seiner Gesinnung ergriffen. Von jener Predigt in Benares, wo zum ersten Male die Lehre vom Leid zum Ausdruck kam, durchdringt alles, was wir über den Buddhismus wissen, die Erkenntnis von dem Leid des Lebens, die Erkenntnis von dem Wesen des Leides und dem, was zum Leid führt: der Durst nach Dasein. Daher kann es nur eines geben, das den Menschen zum Fortschritt bringt: die Befreiung von diesem Dasein in den Wiederverkörperungen. Das nächste ist dann die Angabe derjenigen Mittel, das heißt des Erkenntnispfades, der über die irdische Weisheit hinausführt und die Mittel enthält, daß der Mensch nach und nach fähig wird, in das Nirwana einzutreten, oder mit anderen Worten, daß er die irdischen Wiedergeburten so benutzen lernt, daß sie zuletzt überwunden werden und man von ihnen befreit ist.
Wenn wir, nachdem hier abstrakt der Grundgedanke des Buddhismus dargelegt worden ist, jetzt auf seinen eigentlichen Nerv sehen, so müssen wir sagen: Eigentümlich stellt sich diese Gesinnung zum Gesamtbilde des Menschen. Es isoliert den Menschen, es fragt nach dem Schicksal und nach dem Daseinsziel des Menschen, wie er dasteht als einzelne Persönlichkeit, als einzelne Individualität in der Welt. Wie sollte eine Weltanschauung, die auf der Grundstimmung aufgebaut ist, von der gesprochen worden ist, es auch anders denken? Eine Weltanschauung, die aus der Grundstimmung hervorgegangen ist: Herabgestiegen ist der Mensch aus geistigen Höhen und befindet sich jetzt in einer Welt der Illusion, aus der ihn ab und zu für das irdische Dasein die Weisheit eines Buddha befreien kann, die ihn aber hinführt — wie beim letzten Buddha —, Befreiung vom irdischen Dasein zu suchen. Wie könnte das Daseinsziel des Menschen innerhalb einer solchen Gesinnung anders charakterisiert werden, als daß er isoliert dasteht gegenüber seiner ganzen Umgebung? Es ist ja das zugrunde liegende Daseinsbild so, daß es einen Niedergang darstellt und daß die Entwickelung des irdischen Lebens ein Herabsteigen bedeutet. Daher ist es auch sehr merkwürdig und bezeichnend, wie von Buddha selber die Erleuchtung gesucht wird. Ohne diese besondere Charakterisierung der Erleuchtung des Buddha ist der Buddha, ist der Buddhismus nicht zu verstehen.
Buddha sucht die Erleuchtung in völliger Isolierung. Er geht hinaus in die Einsamkeit. Was er sich von Leben zu Leben erworben hat, soll in einem völlig isolierten Dasein überwunden werden, und es soll hervorbrechen in der Kraft seiner Seele dasjenige Licht, das ihn aufzuklären weiß über die Welt und ihr Elend. Als isolierter Mensch steht Buddha da, wartend auf den Augenblick der Erleuchtung, wo er einzusehen vermag — ganz gestellt auf sich selber —, daß die Gründe für das Leid der Menschheit in dem Drang des einzelnen Menschen nach Wiedergeburt liegen, nach Verkörperung in dieser Welt, daß der Durst nach Dasein, wie er in dem einzelnen Menschen lebt, der Grund für das Elend ringsherum ist, für alles, was an Zerstörung in das Dasein hereinwirkt.
Man kann diese ganz eigentümliche Art der BuddhaErleuchtung und der Buddha-Lehre nicht verstehen, wenn man ihr nicht gegenüberstellt, was uns im Christentum entgegentritt. Da haben wir sechshundert Jahre nach dem Auftreten des großen Buddha etwas ganz anderes. Die Stellung des Menschen zur Welt und zur ganzen Umgebung wird darin auch charakterisiert. Aber wie? Wollten wir noch einmal den Buddha-Menschen charakterisieren, so könnten wir einen abstrakten Ausdruck gebrauchen und sagen: Durch die Buddha-Lehre wird die Weltbetrachtung ungeschichtlich, unhistorisch. Das Ungeschichtliche, Unhistorische ist es im Grunde genommen auch, was alles Morgenländertum charakterisiert. Da sieht das Morgenländertum eine Buddha-Epoche nach der andern ablaufen. Geschichte ist nicht das Herabsteigen von einer Höhe zu Niederem, sondern Geschichte ist das Hinaufstreben zur Erringung eines bestimmten Zieles und die Möglichkeit, sich zusammenzuschließen mit der gesamten Welt, mit der Vorzeit und mit der Nachwelt. Das wäre Geschichte. Der Buddha-Mensch aber steht isoliert und allein da, nur auf der Grundlage seines Eigendaseins, und er will in dem Eigendasein die Kräfte finden, die ihn zur Erlösung vom Durst nach Dasein und damit von den Wiedergeburten führen. Anders steht sechs Jahrhunderte darnach der Mensch im Christentum zur Gesamtentwickelung der Menschheit. Wenn wir jetzt davon absehen, was als Vorurteil weit in der Welt schwebt, so können wir das, was christliche Idee ist, in der folgenden Weise charakterisieren.
Insofern die christliche Idee auf den Ideen des Alten Testamentes fußt, weist sie uns auf eine Vormenschheit zurück, wie sie das auch in den großen, gewaltigen Bildern der Genesis tut, auf jenen Zustand, da der Mensch in anderer Art zu seinen geistigen Welten gestanden hat als später. Aber nun tritt das Eigentümliche auf, durch das sich der Mensch in einer ganz anderen Weise innerhalb des Christentums zur Welt stellt, als es im Buddhismus der Fall ist. Da kann als christlich die Idee bezeichnet werden: In mir lebt eine Weisheit durch jene Seelenverfassung, die ich jetzt habe. Durch die Art und Weise, wie ich die Sinneswelt beobachte und mit meinem Verstande zusammenfasse, lebt in mir eine Weisheit, eine Wissenschaft, eine Lebenspraxis. Aber ich kann auf eine Seelenverfassung der Vormenschheit zurückgehen, wo die Seelen in einem anderen Zustande waren. Damals geschah etwas, was nicht bloß im buddhistischen Sinne bezeichnet werden darf als ein Herabsteigen des Menschen aus göttlich-geistigen Höhen in die sinnliche Maja oder Illusion, sondern was noch als etwas anderes bezeichnet werden muß, nämlich als das, was mit einem großen, allerdings in unserer Zeit vielfach noch auf Nichtverständnis beruhenden Bilde charakterisiert wird: mit dem Sündenfall. Man mag über den Sündenfall denken wie immer, das eine muß aber zugegeben werden, und das genügt heute. In diesem Sündenfall fühlt der Mensch etwas, was zu ihm gehört, etwas, wodurch er sich sagt: Wie ich jetzt als Mensch dastehe, so wirken in mir Kräfte, die durchaus nicht isoliert in diesem vor mir stehenden Menschen gewachsen sind, sondern die in eine urferne Vergangenheit zurückgehen und da an etwas beteiligt waren — eben daran beteiligt waren, daß damals die Menschheit, zu der ich gehöre, nicht bloß heruntergestiegen ist, sondern so heruntergestiegen ist, daß sie in ein anderes Verhältnis zur Welt gekommen ist, als sie nach den Bedingungen, die vorher geherrscht haben, hätte kommen sollen. Die Menschheit ist beim Herunterstieg gleichsam durch etwas, was durch die eigene Schuld geschehen ist, was als die vorbewußte Schuld bezeichnet werden kann, von einer Höhe, auf der sie war, zu einer gewissen Tiefe heruntergestiegen. Wir haben es also nicht bloß mit einem einfachen Herunterstieg wie im Buddhismus zu tun, sondern mit einem sich verändernden Fühlen in diesem Heruntersteigen, das, wenn bloß die vorherigen Bedingungen gewirkt hätten, nicht so geworden wäre, wie es jetzt geworden ist: denn jetzt ist es so geworden, daß die Seelenverfassung der Menschen einer Versuchung verfallen ist.
So blickt der, welcher von der Oberfläche des Christentums in seine Tiefen sieht, auf einen Seelenzustand des Menschen zurück, der ja im Laufe der Geschichte überwunden ist, von dem er sich aber sagt: Dadurch, daß etwas in der Vorzeit geschehen ist, ist dieser Seelenzustand, der in seiner Wirkung als ein Unterbewußtes in mir ruht, anders geworden, als er hätte werden sollen. Der Buddhist aber steht der Welt so gegenüber: Ich bin in die Welt hinausversetzt aus einem Zusammenhange mit der göttlich-geistigen Welt. Diese Welt bietet mir, indem ich sie anschaue, nur Maja oder Illusion. — So aber steht der Christ der Welt gegenüber: Ich bin in diese Welt heruntergestiegen. Wäre ich so heruntergestiegen, wie es den vorherigen Bedingungen allein entsprochen hätte, so würde ich überall hindurchsehen können hinter den Sinnesschein, hinter die Illusion in das wahre Sein und würde überall imstande sein, das Richtige zu finden. Da ich aber in einer anderen Weise heruntergestiegen bin, als es den vorherigen Bedingungen entsprach, so habe ich durch mich diese Welt zu einer Illusion gemacht. — Woran liegt es, daß diese Welt eine Illusion ist? fragt der Buddhist. Er antwortet: Es liegt an der Welt! — Woran liegt es, daß diese Welt eine Illusion ist? fragt der Christ. Er antwortet: Es liegt an mir! Ich selber, mein Erkenntnisvermögen, meine ganze Seelenverfassung haben mich so in die Welt hineingestellt, daß ich jetzt nicht das Ursprüngliche sehe, daß jetzt nicht die Folgen meiner Taten so auftreten, daß alles fruchtbringend ist oder leicht entstehen könnte. Ich bin es selber, der die Welt mit dem Schleier der Illusion überzogen hat. — So darf der Buddhist sagen: Die Welt ist die große Illusion, also muß ich die Welt überwinden! So darf der Christ sagen: Ich bin in die Welt hineingestellt und muß dort mein Ziel finden.
Wenn der Christ einsieht, daß die Geisteswissenschaft ihn zu der Erkenntnis der wiederholten Erdenleben hinführen kann, so kann er sich sagen, daß er dieselben gebrauchen muß, um das Ziel seines Lebens zu erringen. Er weiß: Jetzt blicken wir in eine Welt voll Leid und Irrtum, weil wir uns selber so weit von unserer ursprünglichen Bestimmung entfernt haben, daß wir uns durch unseren Blick, durch unsere Taten die Welt, die um uns herum ist, zur Maja verwandelt haben. Aber wir müssen uns nicht aus dieser Welt entfernen, um zur Seligkeit zu kommen, sondern was wir uns selber angetan haben und was bewirkt, daß wir die Welt nicht in ihrer wahren Gestalt, sondern in einer Illusion sehen, das müssen wir überwinden und uns zu unserer ursprünglichen Menschenbestimmung zurückführen. Denn es liegt uns zugrunde ein höherer Mensch. Würde dieser höhere Mensch, der tief verborgen in uns ist, die Welt anschauen, so würde er sie in Wahrheit erkennen, er würde nicht sein Sein durch Krankheit und Tod führen, sondern durch Gesundheit und Jugendfrische und immerwährendes Leben. Das ist der Mensch, den wir in uns selber mit einem Schleier überzogen haben, indem wir mit einem Ereignis der Weltentwickelung verbunden waren, das in uns nachwirkt und uns bezeugt, daß wir nicht isoliert dastehen, nicht durch den Durst nach Dasein des einzelnen Individuums in die Welt hineingeführt sind, sondern daß wir in der gesamten Menschheit ruhen und teilnehmen an einer Urschuld dieser gesamten Menschheit.
So steht der Christ historisch in der gesamten Menschheit drinnen und fühlt sich mit ihr verbunden, historisch verbunden mit dieser gesamten Menschheit. Er blickt auf eine Zukunft, von der er sich sagt: Was wie mit einem Schleier in mir selber bedeckt worden ist durch das Heruntersteigen der Menschheit, das muß ich wieder erringen. Nicht ein Nirwana muß ich suchen, sondern den höheren Menschen in mir muß ich suchen. Zu mir selber muß ich den Weg zurückfinden. Dann wird die Welt um mich herum nicht Illusion sein, sondern wird die Welt sein, in der ich imstande sein werde, durch eigene Arbeit Leid und Krankheit und Tod zu überwinden. — So sucht der Buddhist Befreiung von der Welt und von den Wiedergeburten durch Bekämpfung des «Durstes nach Dasein», so sucht der Christ Befreiung vom niederen Menschen und Auferweckung des höheren Menschen, den er selber mit einem Schleier zugedeckt hat, um die Welt in ihrer Wahrheit zu sehen. Und es ist etwas, was sich wie Schwarz zu Weiß verhält, was wir in der Buddha-Weisheit finden, wenn wir es vergleichen mit dem bedeutungsvollen Wort des Paulus: «Nicht ich — sondern der Christus in mir!» Hier sehen wir dasjenige Bewußtsein, das in uns wirkt, und stellen uns mit demselben als menschliche Individuen in die Welt hinein. Der Buddhist sagt: Der Mensch ist aus geistigen Welten heruntergestiegen, weil die Welt ihn heruntergedrängt hat. Es muß also die Welt überwunden werden, die ihm den Durst nach Dasein eingepflanzt hat, er muß hinweg aus dieser Welt. — Der Christ aber sagt: Nein, nicht an der Welt liegt es, daß ich so bin, an mir selber liegt es! — So stellen wir uns als Christen in die Welt mit unserem gewöhnlichen Bewußtsein hinein. Unter diesem Bewußtsein wirkt fort in unserer Persönlichkeit, in unserer Individualität etwas, was früher als ein hellseherisches, als ein bildhaftes Bewußtsein vorhanden war. Wir haben geirrt innerhalb dieses Bewußtseins, das jetzt nicht mehr unser ist. Wir müssen aber, wenn wir unser Daseinsziel erlangen wollen, diesen Irrtum wieder gutmachen. Gerade so wie der Mensch sich niemals, wenn er im späteren Leben steht, sagen darf: Ich habe in meiner Jugend gesündigt, doch es ist nicht recht, wenn ich jetzt für das büße, was ich in meiner Jugend getan habe, wo ich noch nicht mein Bewußtsein von jetzt gehabt habe, — so darf der Mensch jetzt auch nicht sagen: Es wäre ungerecht, wenn ich mit meinem jetzigen Bewußtsein ausgleichen sollte, was ich in einem anderen Bewußtsein getan habe, das ich ja nicht mehr habe, sondern das ersetzt ist durch das intellektualistische Bewußtsein. — Dieses Wieder-Gutmachen kann der Mensch aber nur, wenn in ihm der Wille entsteht, von dem gegenwärtigen Bewußtseinszustande mit dem Ich, in dem er jetzt lebt, hinaufzuschreiten zu einem höheren Ich, das mit dem paulinischen Wort charakterisiert werden kann: Nicht ich — sondern der Christus in mir, — sondern ein höheres Bewußtsein in mir! — Ich bin heruntergestiegen — muß der Christ sagen — bis zu anderen Zuständen, als sie vorher bedingt waren. Jetzt muß ich wieder hinaufsteigen. Aber ich muß hinaufsteigen nicht durch das Ich, das ich jetzt habe, sondern durch eine Kraft, die in mir Platz greifen kann und mich über das gewöhnliche Ich hinaufführt. Das kann nur geschehen, wenn nicht ich, sondern wenn der Christus in mir wirkt und mich wieder dahin hinaufführt, wo ich die Welt nicht sehe in Maja oder Illusion, sondern in ihrer wahren Wirklichkeit, wo die Kräfte, durch die Krankheit und Tod in die Welt gekommen sind, überwunden werden können durch das, was der Christus in mir bewirkt.
Man begreift den Buddhismus in seinem innersten Nerv am besten, wenn man ihn mit dem innersten Nerv des Christentums zusammenstellt. Denn dann sieht man, wie es möglich ist, daß bei Lessing in seiner «Erziehung des Menschengeschlechtes» das Wort stehen kann: «Ist nicht die ganze Ewigkeit mein?» — das heißt: Benutze ich die aufeinanderfolgenden Verkörperungen dazu, immer mehr und mehr in mir die Christus-Kraft leben zu lassen, dann komme ich dazu, wozu ich jetzt nicht kommen kann, weil ich mich selbst mit einem Schleier umhüllt habe: in die Sphäre der Ewigkeiten. — Die Idee der Wiederverkörperung wird sich in einem ganz anderen Glanze noch zeigen in der Sonne des Christentums. Aber nicht nur auf die Idee der Wiederverkörperung kommt es an, denn sie wird von der christlichen Kultur als eine geisteswissenschaftliche Wahrheit immer mehr und mehr in die Zukunft hinein erobert werden, sondern darauf kommt es an, daß der Buddhismus aus seiner innersten Gesinnung heraus die Welt verantwortlich machen muß für die Maja oder Illusion, während der Christ sich als Mensch verantwortlich macht und in das Innerste des Menschen dasjenige hineinverlegt, was Vorgänge sind, um aufzusteigen zu dem, was man die Erlösung nennen kann, was aber im christlichen Sinne nicht bloß ErJösung, sondern Auferstehung ist, weil das Ich dadurch hinaufgehoben wird zu einem höheren Ich: zu dem, von dem der Mensch heruntergestiegen ist.
So hat der Buddhist, wenn er auf die Welt blickt, es mit einer Urschuld der Welt zu tun und fühlt sich nur in diese Welt hineingestellt, will von ihr erlöst sein. So hat es der Christ mit seiner Urschuld zu tun und will diese Urschuld korrigieren. Das ist historische, geschichtliche Denkweise. Denn da knüpft der Mensch sein Dasein an eine Urtat der Vormenschheit in der Vergangenheit an und an eine Zukunftstat, wo der Mensch so weit gekommen sein wird, daß sein ganzes Dasein durchglänzt und durchleuchtet sein wird von dem, was wir als Christus-Wesenheit bezeichnen. Daher kommt es aber auch, daß das Christentum in die Weltentwickelung nicht aufeinanderfolgende Buddhas hineinstellt, die sozusagen unhistorisch von Epoche zu Epoche gewissermaßen das Gleiche wiederholen, sondern daß es ein einmaliges Ereignis in die ganze MenschheitsentwickeJung hineinstellt. Während der Buddhist seinen Buddha unter dem Bodhibaume sitzend sieht, wie er als isolierter Mensch zur Erleuchtung aufsteigt, sieht der Christ hin zu dem Jesus von Nazareth als zu dem Heruntersteigen aus dem Weltenäußeren desjenigen, was der inspirierende Weltengeist ist. Das wird uns im Bilde ebenso anschaulich durch die Johannes-Taufe im Jordan dargestellt wie die Erleuchtung des Buddha in dem Sitzen unter dem Bodhibaum. So sehen wir den Buddha im Sitzen unter dem Bodhibaum mit der eigenen Seele, die sich hinaussehnt aus den Wiedergeburten, — so sehen wir den Jesus von Nazareth stehen im Jordan: herunter dringt zu ihm, was die Essenz der Welt ist, und was symbolisch bezeichnet wird unter dem Bilde der Taube als der Geist, der sich in sein Inneres herniedersenkt. So fühlt der Bekenner des Buddhismus: Es dringt zu mir etwas aus der Tat des Buddha, was mir sagt: Stille den Durst nach Dasein, reiße aus die Wurzeln des Erdendaseins und folge dem Buddha dahin, wo die Welten sind, die man mit keiner irdischen Prägung bezeichnen kann. — So fühlt der Christ: Von der Tat des Christus geht etwas aus, wodurch die Tat, die in der Vormenschheit liegt, korrigiert werden kann. Und wenn in meiner Seele ebenso lebendig wird der spirituelle Einfluß der Welt, die hinter der physischen Welt ist, wie in dem Christus selber, dann werde ich in meine folgenden Verkörperungen hineintragen, was immer mehr mir das paulinische Wort: «Nicht ich — sondern der Christus in mir!» zur Wahrheit werden läßt, was mich immer mehr hinaufheben wird zu der Stufe, von welcher ich heruntergestiegen bin. — Daher ist es so ergreifend, wenn erzählt wird, daß Buddha zu seinen intimen Schülern gesagt hat: «Da blicke ich zurück auf meine früheren Leben wie auf ein aufgeschlagenes Buch, kann Seite für Seite lesen, kann überschauen Leben für Leben, die ich durchmachte, und in jedem dieser Leben habe ich mir einen sinnlichen Leib aufgebaut, in dem mein Geist wohnte wie in einem Tempel. Aber jetzt weiß ich, daß dieser Leib, in dem ich zum Buddha geworden bin, der letzte ist.» Und hin wies er auf das Nirwana, in das er eintreten sollte, und sagte: «Ich fühle schon, wie die Balken krachen, wie die Pfosten stürzen, wie der sinnliche Leib zum letzten Male aufgebaut ist und nun ganz zerstört wird.»
Vergleichen wir jetzt eine solche Aussage mit einer anderen, die wir im Johannes-Evangelium finden, wo der Christus auch darauf hinweist, daß er in einem äußeren Leibe wohnt, und hören wir, was da der Christus sagt: «Brecht diesen Tempel ab — und am dritten Tage will ich ihn wieder aufrichten!» Die ganz entgegengesetzte Anschauung! Das heißt: Ich will etwas tun, was alles das fruchtbringend und lebendig machen kann, was von Gott herunterfließt aus der Vormenschheit, was in die Welt, in uns einfließt. — Wir sehen in diesen Worten den Hinweis darauf, daß der Christ alle Kräfte durchzuleben hat in den immer wiederkehrenden Erdenleben, die das Wort wahr machen: «Nicht ich — sondern der Christus in mir!» Nur müssen wir uns klar sein, daß der Christus so sprach, daß die Auferbauung dieses Tempels sozusagen eine Ewigkeitsbedeutung hat, daß damit ein Einziehen der Christus-Kraft in alle diejenigen gemeint ist, welche sich so hineingestellt fühlen in die Gesamtentwickelung der Menschheit. Wir dürfen von diesem Ereignis, das wir als den ChristusImpuls bezeichnen, nicht so sprechen, als ob es sich in irgendeiner Weise im Laufe der Menschheitsentwickelung wiederholen könnte. Der Buddhist hat, wenn er im wahren Sinne denkt, eine Aufeinanderfolge von Buddhas, ein Wiederholen der Erdepochen, die in ihrem irdischen Ablauf im Grunde genommen einen ähnlichen Sinn haben. Der Christ weist auf ein einmaliges Ereignis zurück, das im Sündenfall charakterisiert wird, und er muß daher auch auf ein einmaliges Ereignis hinweisen: auf das Mysterium von Golgatha, das die Umkehrung jenes ersten Ereignisses ist. Wer — wie es ja in der Menschheitsgeschichte häufig geschehen ist und auch jetzt wieder zu geschehen droht — auf eine Wiederholung des Christus-Ereignisses hindeuten wollte, der würde damit nur zeigen, daß er den eigentlichen Nerv einer historischen Erfassung der Menschheitsentwickelung nicht inne hat. Soll Geschichte wirklich sein, so muß sie so verlaufen, daß sie dirigiert wird von einem Punkte aus. Wie die Waage einen Gleichgewichtspunkt haben muß und wie der Waagebalken, an dem die beiden Waagschalen hängen, einen Unterstützungspunkt haben muß, so muß bei einer historischen Auffassung der Menschheitsentwickelung ein einmaliges Ereignis da sein so, daß die geschichtliche Entwickelung von rückwärts und vorwärts auf ein solches einmaliges Ereignis hinweist. Wer von einer Wiederholung des Christus-Ereignisses sprechen würde, der würde etwas ebenso Absurdes sagen, wie wenn jemand behaupten würde, man könnte einen Waagebalken an zwei Punkten unterstützen. Daß eben in der morgenländischen Weisheit von einer Aufeinanderfolge gleichartiger Individualitäten gesprochen wird, die sich ablösen, wie dies bei einer Anzahl von Buddhas der Fall ist, das charakterisiert uns den Unterschied zwischen der morgenländischen Weltanschauung und dem, was sich die Menschheit im Laufe der Entwickelung errungen hat, was zuerst im Abendlande aufgetreten ist mit dem Christus-Impuls, der nur ein einmaliger ist. Wer die Einmaligkeit und die Einzigartigkeit des ChristusEreignisses bestreiten wollte, würde damit zugleich die Möglichkeit einer wirklichen Geschichte in der Menschheitsentwickelung bestreiten, das heißt: er versteht nichts von wirklicher Geschichte.
Das, was wir nennen können: das Bewußtsein des Enthaltenseins des einzelnen Menschen in der ganzen Menschheit — daß ein Sinn die Menschheitsentwickelung von Anfang bis zu Ende durchzieht, daß nicht bloß Gleiches sich wiederholt — ist in seinem tiefsten Sinne zugleich christliches Bewußtsein. Das gehört zum Christentum und kann nicht von ihm getrennt werden. Es ist der eigentliche Fortschritt, den die Menschheit im Laufe ihrer Entwickelung gemacht hat, daß sie von der alten Weltanschauung des Morgenlandes zu der neuen Weltanschauung fortgeschritten ist, von der Unhistorie zur Historie, — der Fortschritt von dem Glauben, es rollten die Räder des Weltgeschehens immer in einer gleichen Weise hintereinander ab, zu dem anderen Glauben, der in der gesamten Menschheitsentwickelung etwas sieht, was von einem Sinn durchdrungen ist.
So bekommt durch das Christentum erst die Lehre von den wiederholten Erdenleben ihren wahren Sinn.Denn jetzt sagen wir uns: Der Mensch lebt seine wiederholten Erdenleben, weil ihm wiederholt eingepflanzt werden soll der Sinn des Erdendaseins und weil ihn mit einem jeden Erdenleben ein neuer Sinn des Erdendaseins trifft. Nicht bloß in dem isolierten, einzelnen Menschen ist ein Streben, sondern auch in der gesamten Menschheit, mit der wir uns verbunden fühlen, ist Sinn. Und der in der Mitte stehende Christus-Impuls zeigt, daß sich im Hinblick auf die geistige Sonne der Mensch dieses Zusammenhanges bewußt werden kann, daß er sich nicht bloß bewußt wird eines Bekenntnisses zu einem Buddha, der ihm sagt: Erlöse dich!, sondern sich des Zusammenhanges mit einem Christus bewußt wird, der die Tat getan hat, wodurch korrigiert wird, was mit Bezug auf den Herunterstieg der Menschen symbolisch als der Sündenfall dargestellt wird. Wir können den Buddhismus nicht besser charakterisieren, als daß wir zeigen, wie er die Abendröte einer Weltanschauung ist, die sich zum Niedergang geneigt hat, und daß ein letztes großes, gewaltiges Aufleuchten dieser Weltanschauung mit dem Gotama Buddha gegeben war. Wir verehren ihn deshalb nicht minder. Wir verehren ihn als den großen Geist, der noch einmal in das Erdendasein die Stimmung hineinruft, die der Menschheit so recht das Bewußtsein ihres Zusammenhanges mit der Urweisheit bringt, der eben mit seiner Stimme in die Vergangenheit hinweist. Wir wissen dagegen, daß kraftvoll in die Zukunft der Christus-Impuls hineinweist, der sich immer mehr und mehr in die Menschenseelen einleben soll, damit sie begreifen: Nicht Erlösung — sondern Auferstehung, Verklärung des Erdendaseins, das ist es, was dem Erdendasein erst den rechten Sinn gibt.
Man braucht, was im Menschenleben tätig ist, nicht nur zu suchen in den Dogmen, in Begriffen und Ideen, da könnte es manche geben, denen der Buddhismus besser gefällt, als ihnen das Christentum gefallen könnte. Sondern man muß das Wesentliche suchen in den Impulsen, in den Empfindungen und Gefühlen, welche der Menschheitsentwickelung den Sinn geben. Und da können wir sagen: Es gibt in unserer Zeit etwas, was einer großen Anzahl von Geistern Sympathie einflößen kann für den Buddhismus. Es ist gewissermaßen etwas Ähnliches wie eine BuddhaStimmung in einer großen Anzahl unserer Menschen der Gegenwart. In Goethe war diese Buddha-Stimmung noch nicht. Goethe mit seiner Liebe zum Dasein, mit seiner Gesinnung, daß in dem äußeren Dasein der Geist verwoben ist, aus dem der Menschengeist stammt, suchte Erlösung von den Qualen der Engigkeit, die ihn zum Beispiel während seines ersten Aufenthaltes in Weimar umfing, in der Betrachtung der Außenwelt, indem er von Pflanze zu Pflanze ging, von Mineral zu Mineral, von Kunstwerk zu Kunstwerk, und indem er hinter der Pflanze, hinter dem Mineral, hinter dem Kunstwerk den Geist suchte, aus dem der menschliche Geist stammt. Er suchte zu verwachsen mit dem, was sich als der Geist in allen Dingen kundgibt. Und Schopenhauer, sein Schüler, über den selbst Goethe mit Bezug auf das, was Schopenhauer von Goethe lernte, sagte:
Dein Gutgedachtes, in fremden Adern,
Wird sogleich mit dir selber hadern
dieser Schopenhauer, der zu seiner Devise sein selbstgeprägtes Wort machte: «Das Leben ist eine mißliche Sache; und ich habe mir vorgenommen, das meinige damit hinzubrinJungsfähig. — Dann führt eine solche Resignation zu der Stufe, wo der Mensch fähig wird, den höheren Menschen, den Christus-Menschen, aus sich herauszuholen. Dann resigniert man, weil man weiß, daß man augenblicklich noch nicht die höchste Menschenstufe erreicht hat. Das ist heroische Resignation! Die verträgt sich mit dem Menschenbewußtsein, denn sie sagt: Wir gehen mit dem Gefühl des Daseins von Leben zu Leben und wissen, indem wir der Zukunft entgegenleben, daß in der Wiederholung des Erdendaseins die ganze Ewigkeit unser ist.
So stehen in der ganzen Menschheitsentwickelung zwei Weltanschauungsströmungen vor uns. Die eine ist die Schopenhauerische, die sagt: Ach, diese Welt mit all ihren Leiden ist eine solche, daß wir die rechte Stellung des Menschen nur dann empfinden, wenn wir zu den Werken der großen Maler hinschauen, die eine Gestalt darstellen, welche durch ihre Askese etwas errungen hat wie Befreiung vom irdischen Dasein, die schon über dem Erdendasein schwebt. Im Grunde genommen — meint Schopenhauer — zeigt sich das Höchste einer solchen, durch Askese erdbefreiten Menschenwesenheit daran, daß sie wie zurückblickt auf das Erdendasein und sagt: Jetzt habe ich nur noch die leibliche Hülle an mir, die mir bedeutungslos geworden ist. Ich strebe hinauf und antizipiere dasjenige Dasein, das mich berührt, wenn die Erde überwunden ist, wenn ich das überwunden habe, was mit dem Erdendasein verknüpft ist. Darin liegt die große Befreiung. Und nichts habe ich mehr an mir, was mich in Zukunft noch erinnern könnte an mein Erdendasein. So Schopenhauer, nachdem er von der Gesinnung durchdrungen war, die der Buddhismus in die Welt brachte. Goethe, aus einem echten christlichen Impuls heraus, sieht auf die Welt hin so, wie er seinen Faust auf die Welt schauen läßt. Wenn wir auch nicht im äußerlich trivialen bequem. Da ziehen sich die Menschen — wenigstens für ihr Wissen — von der Tatsachenwelt, in der man soviel zu verarbeiten hat, zurück und wollen nur in ihrem Inneren durch die Entwickelung ihrer Seele eine höhere Stufe erreichen. So gibt es einen unbewußten Buddhismus schon seit langer Zeit. Er arbeitet an der Philosophie des neunzehnten und zwanzigsten Jahrhunderts. Kommt dann ein solcher unbewußter Buddhist zu einer Bekanntschaft mit dem Buddhismus, so fühlt er sich aus Bequemlichkeit mehr mit dem Buddhismus verwandt als mit der europäischen Geisteswissenschaft, die da mit den Tatsachen ringt, weil sie weiß, daß in dem ganzen Umfang der Tatsachen der Geist sich manifestiert.
Deshalb kann man sagen: Es ist etwas von dem Unglauben und der Willenslähmung, die aus einer geistigen Erkenntnisschwäche eindringen, welche Sympathie erwecken für den Buddhismus. Die christliche Weltanschauung dagegen fordert in ihrem ganzen Wesen — wie etwa ihr Grundnerv in Goethe lebte —, daß der Mensch sich nicht seiner einzelnen Erkenntnisschwäche hingibt und von den Grenzen der Erkenntnis spricht, sondern daß er sagt: In mir lebt etwas, was über alle Illusion hinauskommen und zur Wahrheit und Lebensbefreiung kommen kann. — Es mag auch eine solche Weltanschauung vieles an Resignation erfordern, das ist aber eine andere Resignation als die, welche vor Erkenntnisgrenzen zurückschreckt. Resigniert man im Sinne des Kantianismus, so sagt man: Der Mensch ist überhaupt nicht imstande, in die Tiefen der Welt einzudringen. Da resigniert man prinzipiell, indem man der Erkenntnisschwäche ein besonderes Zeugnis ausstellt. Man kann aber auch resignieren mit Goethe, indem man sich sagt: Du bist heute nur noch nicht auf der Stufe, um die Welt in ihrer Wahrheit zu erkennen; aber du bist entwickelungsfähig. — Dann führt eine solche Resignation zu der Stufe, wo der Mensch fähig wird, den höheren Menschen, den Christus-Menschen, aus sich herauszuholen. Dann resigniert man, weil man weiß, daß man augenblicklich noch nicht die höchste Menschenstufe erreicht hat. Das ist heroische Resignation! Die verträgt sich mit dem Menschenbewußtsein, denn sie sagt: Wir gehen mit dem Gefühl des Daseins von Leben zu Leben und wissen, indem wir der Zukunft entgegenleben, daß in der Wiederholung des Erdendaseins die ganze Ewigkeit unser ist.
So stehen in der ganzen Menschheitsentwickelung zwei Weltanschauungsströmungen vor uns. Die eine ist die Schopenhauerische, die sagt: Ach, diese Welt mit all ihren Leiden ist eine solche, daß wir die rechte Stellung des Menschen nur dann empfinden, wenn wir zu den Werken der großen Maler hinschauen, die eine Gestalt darstellen, welche durch ihre Askese etwas errungen hat wie Befreiung vom irdischen Dasein, die schon über dem Erdendasein schwebt. Im Grunde genommen — meint Schopenhauer — zeigt sich das Höchste einer solchen, durch Askese erdbefreiten Menschenwesenheit daran, daß sie wie zurückblickt auf das Erdendasein und sagt: Jetzt habe ich nur noch die leibliche Hülle an mir, die mir bedeutungslos geworden ist. Ich strebe hinauf und antizipiere dasjenige Dasein, das mich berührt, wenn die Erde überwunden ist, wenn ich das überwunden habe, was mit dem Erdendasein verknüpft ist. Darin liegt die große Befreiung. Und nichts habe ich mehr an mir, was mich in Zukunft noch erinnern könnte an mein Erdendasein. So Schopenhauer, nachdem er von der Gesinnung durchdrungen war, die der Buddhismus in die Welt brachte. Goethe, aus einem echten christlichen Impuls heraus, sieht auf die Welt hin so, wie er seinen Faust auf die Welt schauen läßt. Wenn wir auch nicht im äußerlich trivialen Sinne hinschauen, wenn wir auch wissen, daß alles, was unsere Erdenwerke sind, mit der Erde zerfallen und mit dem Erdenleichnam hinsterben wird, so können wir doch im Sinne Goethes sagen: Wir blicken auf alles hin, was wir auf der Erde durchmachen, und indem wir es durchmachen, lernen wir. Denn geht auch das zugrunde, was wir hier auf der Erde bauen — nicht geht zugrunde, was wir uns erringen, indem wir die Schule des Erdendaseins in unserem Erdenbauen durchmachen. — Und so sehen wir mit Faust nicht bloß auf den Bestand unserer Erdenwerke, sondern auf die Früchte unserer Erdenwerke in der eigenen SeelenEwigkeit und sagen, indem wir — so recht goethisch — das, was über den Buddhismus hinausführen muß, in die Worte zusammenfassen:
Es kann die Spur von meinen Erdetagen
Nicht in Aonen untergehn!
Buddha
There is a great deal of talk about Buddha and Buddhism in our time. This fact may be all the more interesting to those who observe the development of humanity, as this awareness of the essence of Buddhism, or perhaps better said, this longing to understand Buddhism, is not yet very old within our Western intellectual life. We need only think of the most significant personality who had such a powerful influence on our Western intellectual life at the turn of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and who continues to have such a powerful influence to this day: Goethe. If we follow Goethe's life, Goethe's work, Goethe's knowledge, we see that Buddha and Buddhism do not yet play any role in any of this. And relatively soon we see in a mind that was, in a certain sense, even Goethe's pupil, in Schopenhauer, how the influence of Buddhism already shines powerfully in his work. Then interest in this Eastern school of thought grows greater and greater. And in our time, it is already inherent in many people to grapple with what has actually flowed into human development through what is associated with the name of the great Buddha.
Now, it must be said that, strangely enough, most people today still associate Buddhism with another concept which, if one looks at the essentials, should not really be linked to Buddhism in the way that it often is: namely, the concept of repeated earthly lives, which has played a role again and again in these lectures. We can safely say that for most people who are interested in Buddhism today, this idea of repeated earthly lives, or what we call reincarnation, is in a certain sense very much associated with Buddhism. On the other hand, however grotesque it may sound, it must be said that for those who delve deeper into these matters, this linking of Buddhism with the idea of repeated earthly lives seems almost as if one were to say that the best understanding of the artworks of antiquity can be found among those who destroyed these artworks at the beginning of the medieval world! This sounds grotesque, but nevertheless it is so. It soon becomes clear that this is the case when one considers that all the striving to which Buddhism aspires is directed toward underestimating these repeated earthly lives, which indeed appear to it to be quite certain, as much as possible, and shortening their number as much as possible. So salvation from rebirth, from repeated earthly lives, is what we must regard as the innermost nerve of the entire Buddhist school of thought. Liberation, salvation from repeated earthly lives, which it indeed regards as a certain fact, is its essence.
Even a superficial examination of the history of our Western spiritual life could teach us how the idea of repeated earthly lives actually has nothing to do with the understanding of Buddhism and vice versa. For within Western intellectual life, the idea of repeated earthly lives confronts us in such a grandiose way in a personality who certainly remained unaffected by Buddhist thinking: namely, in Lessing's most mature treatise on “The Education of the Human Race”; which he concludes with his confession to repeated earthly lives. In the outlook on this idea, the meaningful words from Lessing's treatise “The Education of the Human Race” resound: “Is not the whole eternity mine?” Thus, for Lessing, repeated earthly lives, in terms of the fruitfulness of earthly striving, become the document that tells us: we are not on earth in vain; we work within earthly life and look forward to an ever-expanding earthly life in which we can bring the fruits of past earthly lives to maturity. — So it is precisely the prospect of a meaningful, fruitful future and the awareness that there is something in human life that, in view of repeated earthly lives, can be said: you continue to work! — that is what is essentially important to Lessing.What is essentially important in Buddhism is to say to oneself: We must attain such knowledge, such wisdom, that can free us from what may appear before our spiritual eye as repeated earthly lives. Only then will we be able to calmly enter into something that can be described with the word eternity, if we can free ourselves in any of these lives from the ones that are to follow.
Now, it has always been my aim in the course of these winter lectures to show how the idea of repeated earthly lives is by no means drawn from any ancient traditions, not even Buddhist ones, but how it must necessarily impose itself on us through unbiased observation and contemplation of life in the spiritual-scientific sense, especially in our time. It therefore seems superficial to directly associate Buddhism with the idea of repeated earthly lives. If we want to grasp the essence of Buddhism, we must rather direct our spiritual gaze toward something completely different. Here I must once again recall the law of human development that we already encountered in our consideration of the great Zarathustra, which showed us that the human soul, with its entire constitution, has undergone various states in the course of time, that the experiences reported to us by external history and external documents are basically only a late phase in human development, and that when we go back to prehistoric times, we can see, from a spiritual scientific point of view, a state of mind in pre-human beings in which human consciousness was in a completely different state. Let me just repeat this briefly.
The way we view things in normal human life today, perceiving them with our senses and combining them with our intellect, which is bound to the brain, in order to turn them into wisdom for life, into our science—this essentially intellectual nature of our consciousness has developed from a different form of consciousness. This has already been pointed out, and it must be emphasized again today. Pre-humans had a different kind of consciousness: In the chaotic disorder of our dream life, we have a last remnant, a kind of heirloom, but an atavistic heirloom of what once existed as a normal human state of mind: an ancient clairvoyance through which humanity, in a state between waking and sleeping, saw into what is hidden behind the sensory world. While today our consciousness essentially alternates between waking and sleeping, and the intelligent state of soul is sought in waking life, in ancient times it was the case that people had a kind of clairvoyance in the fluctuating images, which were not as meaningless as the images of dreams, but could be clearly related to supernatural events and things. a kind of state of consciousness from which our present intellectualistic state of consciousness gradually developed. We can thus trace back to a kind of clairvoyance of pre-humanity and a long-lasting development of human consciousness. Through this ancient dreamlike clairvoyance, pre-humanity was able to see into the supersensible world, and from its connection with the supersensible it gained not only knowledge, but what might be called the innermost satisfaction of the soul in the spiritual world, bliss in the feeling of connection with a spiritual world. For just as it is certain today for human beings in their sensory, intellectual consciousness that their blood consists of substances that are outside in physical space, indeed, that their entire organism is composed of these substances, it was just as certain for the people of ancient times that, in relation to their spiritual-soul part, they sprang from what they saw as the spiritual world with their clairvoyant consciousness.
Attention has already been drawn to the fact that certain phenomena in human history, which are also told to us by external facts, can only be understood if one assumes such a primordial state of human life on earth. More and more — as has already been pointed out — external science is also coming to the conclusion in the early days of humanity, we should no longer assume, as the materialistic anthropology of the nineteenth century did, that in the early days such a primordial state was common, as is found today among the most primitive peoples, but it is becoming increasingly clear that in the primordial state of humanity, there were highly theoretical views about the spiritual world, only that these were given in pictorial form. What we have in myths and legends, if we penetrate them correctly, we can only understand if we trace it back to a primordial wisdom of humanity that flowed into humanity in a completely different way than the intellectualistic science of today. Admittedly, there is still not much sympathy today for the view that what we find among primitive peoples is not the spiritual state of early humanity, but something in a state of decadence that has fallen from a former height; there is not much sympathy for the view that all peoples originally possessed a high wisdom that was drawn from clairvoyance; but the facts will compel humanity to accept, even hypothetically, something that spiritual science has researched from its sources and which — as could be shown in many other ways — is thoroughly confirmed by natural science. Thus, what has just been characterized in scientific terms about a possible future course of human development will prove to be true.
We thus look back on a kind of primordial wisdom, but also on a primordial feeling and sense of humanity, which we can characterize as a clairvoyant connection between human beings and the spiritual world. Now it is also easy to understand — as we have already pointed out in our discussion of Zarathustrianism — that in the transition from the old state of the soul, that is, from the clairvoyant state of the human soul to the intellectual, unbiased observation of the external sensory world, two currents can arise. One current can be found throughout the course of time, particularly among those peoples who had preserved the old memories and also the old feelings in such a way that they said: Humanity was once connected to the spiritual world in a clairvoyant state, and then descended into the sensory world. This spread to the overall feeling of the soul in such a way that it was said: We have stepped out into the world of appearances, but this is illusion, it is Maya. Man only knew his true nature and was connected with it when he was in contact with the spiritual world. Thus, a certain melancholy about something lost and a certain disregard for what is in the immediate sensory environment and what the human mind can comprehend pervades the people and nations who had preserved such an inkling of an ancient clairvoyant state. In contrast, we can characterize another current, which we can trace particularly in Zarathustrianism. It is found among people and nations who said to themselves: We want to embrace the new world that is now, in essence, being given to us. The people who professed this attack on the new world did not look back with melancholy on what they had lost, but felt more and more that they had to connect with all the forces that enable them to see through everything that surrounds us as the sensory world, and to which the spirit can also come in a truly profound contemplation of human knowledge. Such people had the urge to connect with the world, not to look back, but to look ahead, to be fighters and to say to themselves: The world that is now given to us is interwoven with the same divine-spiritual element in which we were enveloped in former times. We must seek it in our surroundings, we must connect with the good elements of the spiritual and thereby promote world development. — This is essentially the worldview that originated in the more northern part of the Asian continent: north of the territory where people looked back with melancholy on what had been lost.
Thus, a spiritual life arose on Indian soil that can be understood entirely in terms of looking back on the former connection with the spiritual world. If we consider what arose in India as Sankhya philosophy or yoga philosophy or yoga training, we can summarize it by saying that Indians always strove to rediscover the connection with the worlds from which they had emerged; they tried to strip away what surrounded them in the world. They sought to escape from their interweaving and connection with the outer sensory world and, by stripping away the sensory world, to rediscover the connection with the spiritual worlds from which human beings had descended. Yoga is reconnecting with the spiritual world, stepping out of the sensory world, liberation from the sensory world. Only when we make these assumptions about the basic mood of Indian spiritual life can we understand how, on Indian soil — a few centuries before the Christian impulse made itself felt in Western life — the great, powerful impulse of the Buddha shines before our spiritual gaze like a last glow of Indian spiritual life. One can only understand the figure of Buddha on the basis of the mood we have just characterized. We must say: if we assume such a basic mood, we can understand that a way of thinking and a mindset could arise on Indian soil which saw the world in decline, in a descent from the spiritual world to sensory illusion, to Maya, to what is precisely the “great deception,” Maya. It is also understandable that, based on the views of the outer world in which human beings are so deeply interwoven, the Indian developed the idea that this descent takes place in stages, in repeating steps. So that in the Indian worldview, we are not dealing with a descent in a straight line, so to speak, but with a descent from epoch to epoch. From this perspective, we can understand the profound mood of a culture that we must nevertheless describe as a twilight culture, for that is how we must characterize the idea of Buddha, which stems from such a worldview.
We can therefore say, for example, that the Indian looked back to a time when humanity was connected to the spiritual world, then sank down to a certain level, rose again, sank down again, was lifted up again, sank down again — but in such a way that each subsequent descent was always a further descent. Each ascent is something like a down payment offered to humanity so that it does not have to take in all at once what it has entered into with this descent. Each time such an epoch of decline comes to an end, a figure arises in the ancient Indian worldview who is called a “Buddha.” The last of the Buddhas is the one who was incarnated, that is, embodied, in the son of King Suddhodana — in Gotama Buddha. The Indian looks at other Buddhas and says to himself: since the time when humanity stood at the height of the spiritual world, there have been a whole number of Buddhas; since the last decline of the world, five Buddhas have appeared. The Buddhas always mean that humanity should not sink into Maya, but that something of the ancient wisdom should be brought again and again, from which it can draw sustenance. However, because humanity is moving in a downward direction, this wisdom is lost again and again, and a new Buddha must then come to bring it such a down payment again. The last one was Gotama Buddha. Before such a Buddha, if we may speak trivially, ascends to Buddha-hood through his various lives, he must attain another dignity: the dignity of a Bodhisattva. The Indian worldview also sees in the king's son of Suddhodana, in Gotama Buddha, until his twenty-ninth year, not a Buddha, but a Bodhisattva. It is therefore this bodhisattva, who was born into the royal house of Suddhodana, who, through the efforts of his life, ascended to that inner enlightenment which is symbolically described as “sitting under the bodhi tree” and then expressed in the “Sermon of Benares.” In his twenty-ninth year, this Bodhisattva ascended to Buddhahood through these events and was now able, as Buddha, to bring humanity one last remnant of the ancient wisdom, which, according to Indian belief, may be consumed again in the centuries to come. When humanity has descended so low that the wisdom brought by this last Buddha has been exhausted, another Bodhisattva will ascend to Buddhahood, the Buddha of the future, the “Maitreya Buddha,” who is expected in the future according to the Indian worldview.
Now let us consider what, so to speak, like an ancient wisdom, permeated the Buddha's soul at the moment when he had just ascended from a Bodhisattva to a Buddha. From this we can then best see what this ascent from a Bodhisattva — which one becomes through the efforts of many lives — to a Buddha means.
What was still going on in the soul of this bodhisattva is told to us in a legend. Until the age of twenty-nine, he had only seen what he could see in the royal house of Suddhodana. Everything that we call human misery, which intrudes into life and constantly destroys the fruitful continuation of life as such, was kept away from him. So the Bodhisattva grew up — albeit with his Bodhisattva consciousness, that is, with a consciousness that was completely imbued with inner wisdom from his previous earthly lives — seeing only the fruitful, the becoming of life. Then he stepped outside — the legend is well known enough, so we need only recall the essentials of it — and saw what he had never been able to see in the royal palace: a corpse. He saw in the corpse that death replaces life: the element of death enters into what is fruitful, procreative life. He saw a sick and ailing person: illness enters into health. And he saw an old man staggering wearily along: old age enters into what rises to existence with youthful vigor. We must be clear—as the Indian worldview presupposes in the sense of Buddhism itself—that he who has become a Buddha from a bodhisattva saw all such experiences with his bodhisattva consciousness. He thus saw the destructive element of existence placed within the wise becoming. This had such an effect on his great soul that he said to himself — so the legend tells —: “Suffering pervades life!” Now let us put ourselves in the position of the one who, from the standpoint of Buddhism, sees these things himself, in the position of this Bodhisattva Gotama, who, with great wisdom — of which he was not yet fully aware, but which lived within him — had thus far seen through the fruitful becoming in this life and now turned his gaze to the destructive, perishable element of existence. If we take such a standpoint, as the Buddha himself had to take given the circumstances of his existence, then we can imagine that this Buddha, with his great soul, had to say to himself: Yes, if we now attain wisdom, knowledge, then this knowledge leads us to becoming, and then an idea of ever-continuing fruitful becoming intrudes into our soul. Wisdom, then, gives the idea of fruitful becoming. But then we look out into the world. There we see a destructive element: illness, old age, and death. Wisdom and knowledge cannot be what interferes with life, old age, illness, and death. It must be something else. So one can — as the great Gotama might say, or rather feel, because he was not clear about his bodhisattva consciousness — be imbued with wisdom, attain the idea of fruitful becoming out of wisdom, but life shows us destruction, sickness and death and many other things that intrude destructively into life. There is something to be recognized that the Bodhisattva cannot yet fully comprehend. The Bodhisattva has gone through life after life, has applied reincarnation after reincarnation to his soul in such a way that the wisdom within him has grown greater and greater, so that he is able to view life from a higher perspective. Having left the royal palace, he now saw real life, but he did not yet penetrate its essence with his consciousness. What we can gather as knowledge and accumulate as wisdom in ourselves from life to life cannot ultimately lead us to understand the real mysteries of existence. They must lie elsewhere, outside the life we live from incarnation to incarnation.
This idea took root in the soul of the great Gotama and led directly to the enlightenment known as “enlightenment under the Bodhi tree.” There he realized—we can paraphrase it this way—that we are in a world of maya, or illusion. We live life after life in this world of maya, or illusion, into which we have stepped out of a spiritual existence. In this life, we can ascend to dignity and honor in a spiritual sense. But through what this life gives us — even if we go through many incarnations and become wiser and wiser through this life — we cannot solve the great mystery of existence that stares at us in old age, illness, and death. — Then it dawned on him that the teaching of suffering must be even greater for him than the wisdom of a Bodhisattva. And his enlightenment now consisted in saying to himself: So what spreads out in the world of Maya or illusion is not true wisdom, is so little true wisdom that even after many lives we cannot draw an understanding of suffering from this outer existence and can not escape from suffering. This external existence therefore has something else woven into it that is far removed from wisdom and all knowledge. — It was therefore self-evident that the Buddha sought in a wisdomless element that which pervades life with old age, sickness, and death. — It is not the wisdom of this world that can somehow have a liberating effect, but something else that cannot be gained from this world at all, that can only be gained by completely withdrawing from the world of external existence, in which rebirth follows rebirth, incarnation follows incarnation. — From that moment on, the Buddha saw in the teaching of suffering the fundamental element that humanity needs for its further progress. He saw in a wisdomless element, which he called the thirst for existence, the wisdomless thirst for existence, the cause of suffering entering the world. Wisdom on the one hand, unwise thirst for existence on the other, that was what led him to say to himself again: So only liberation from these rebirths, from these repeated earthly lives, which even in the highest wisdom cannot free us from suffering, can be that which leads to salvation, to true human freedom. Therefore, he pondered the means that could lead people out of the world in which their reincarnations lie, into that world — which we only need to understand correctly, then we will not get the grotesque, fantastical ideas that are very often circulating about it — which Buddha called nirvana.
What kind of world is nirvana, into which those who have progressed so far in life that their thirst for existence has been quenched, that they no longer desire to be reborn, are to enter? It is a world that can only be properly described by saying: in the sense of Buddhism, the actual world of salvation, of bliss, cannot be described by anything that is taken from what we perceive in the sensory world, in the spatial world, in the world of physical existence around us. Everything we perceive in the world of space, in the physical world, can only give us something that does not point to liberation, therefore we must not apply any of the predicates to the world in which man seeks his liberation. So let all the predicates, all the words that man can find when he describes something in the environment, be silent within you. None of this exists in the world of bliss. It is impossible to imagine the world into which those who have overcome reincarnation enter. It can therefore only be described with a negative word: it is not everything that we perceive in the environment! Therefore, let us only give it a negative designation, let us say of this world: Those for whom everything that connects them to this existence has been erased will know what it will be like when they enter this world, which can only be described here with a negative word—with nirvana.
Thus, for Buddhists, this world is one that cannot be described with any of our words. Not nothingness, but an existence so full, so fulfilled, so filled with bliss that they have no words for it: they do not want to describe it as nothingness. With this, we have already grasped the very essence of Buddhism and its spirit. From that sermon in Benares, where the doctrine of suffering was first expressed, everything we know about Buddhism is permeated by the knowledge of the suffering of life, the knowledge of the nature of suffering and what leads to suffering: the thirst for existence. Therefore, there can be only one thing that brings progress to human beings: liberation from this existence in reincarnation. The next step is then to indicate the means, that is, the path of knowledge that leads beyond earthly wisdom and contains the means by which man gradually becomes capable of entering Nirvana, or in other words, by which he learns to use earthly rebirths in such a way that they are ultimately overcome and one is freed from them.
Now that we have presented the basic idea of Buddhism in abstract terms, if we look at its actual essence, we must say: this attitude is peculiar to the overall picture of man. It isolates the human being, it asks about the fate and purpose of human existence, as he stands there as an individual personality, as an individual individuality in the world. How could a worldview based on the fundamental mood that has been discussed think otherwise? A worldview that has emerged from the basic mood: Man has descended from spiritual heights and now finds himself in a world of illusion, from which the wisdom of a Buddha can occasionally free him for earthly existence, but which leads him — as in the case of the last Buddha — to seek liberation from earthly existence. How could the goal of human existence be characterized differently within such a mindset than that of standing isolated from one's entire environment? The underlying image of existence is that it represents a decline and that the development of earthly life means a descent. It is therefore very strange and significant how Buddha himself seeks enlightenment. Without this particular characterization of the Buddha's enlightenment, the Buddha and Buddhism cannot be understood.
Buddha seeks enlightenment in complete isolation. He goes out into solitude. What he has acquired from life to life is to be overcome in a completely isolated existence, and the light that can enlighten him about the world and its misery is to burst forth in the power of his soul. Buddha stands there as an isolated human being, waiting for the moment of enlightenment when he will be able to see—entirely on his own—that the reasons for the suffering of humanity lie in the urge of the individual human being for rebirth, for embodiment in this world, that the thirst for existence, as it lives in the individual human being, is the reason for the misery all around, for all the destruction that affects existence.
One cannot understand this very peculiar kind of Buddha enlightenment and Buddha teaching unless one compares it with what we encounter in Christianity. Six hundred years after the appearance of the great Buddha, we have something quite different. The position of the human being in relation to the world and the entire environment is also characterized in it. But how? If we wanted to characterize the Buddha-human being once again, we could use an abstract expression and say: Through the Buddha's teaching, the view of the world becomes ahistorical, unhistorical. The ahistorical, the unhistorical is, in essence, what characterizes everything in the Orient. Orientalism sees one Buddha epoch after another passing by. History is not the descent from a height to a lower level, but rather the striving upward to achieve a certain goal and the possibility of uniting with the entire world, with the past and with posterity. That would be history. The Buddha-man, however, stands isolated and alone, based only on his own existence, and he wants to find in his own existence the forces that will lead him to salvation from the thirst for existence and thus from rebirth. Six centuries later, the Christian man stands differently in relation to the overall development of humanity. If we now disregard what is widely held as prejudice in the world, we can characterize the Christian idea in the following way.
Insofar as the Christian idea is based on the ideas of the Old Testament, it points us back to a pre-humanity, as it does in the great, powerful images of Genesis, to that state in which man stood in a different way to his spiritual worlds than he did later. But now something peculiar arises, whereby human beings relate to the world in a completely different way within Christianity than is the case in Buddhism. The Christian idea can be described as follows: a wisdom lives within me through the state of soul I now have. Through the way I observe the sensory world and summarize it with my intellect, a wisdom, a science, a way of life lives within me. But I can go back to a state of soul in pre-humanity, when souls were in a different state. At that time, something happened that cannot be described merely in the Buddhist sense as a descent of human beings from divine-spiritual heights into sensual Maya or illusion, but must be described as something else, namely as what is characterized by a great image, which in our time is still often based on a lack of understanding: the Fall. Whatever one may think about the Fall, one thing must be admitted, and that is enough today. In this Fall, human beings feel something that belongs to them, something that makes them say: As I now stand here as a human being, forces are at work within me that have by no means grown in isolation in this human being standing before me, but which go back to a distant past and were involved in something there — namely, that at that time, the humanity to which I belong did not merely descend, but descended in such a way that it entered into a different relationship with the world than it should have entered into according to the conditions that had previously prevailed. In descending, humanity has, as it were, through something that happened through its own fault, which can be described as preconscious guilt, descended from a height at which it was to a certain depth. So we are not dealing with a simple descent as in Buddhism, but with a changing feeling in this descent, which, if only the previous conditions had taken effect, would not have become what it has now become: for now it has become such that the state of mind of human beings has fallen prey to temptation.Thus, those who look from the surface of Christianity into its depths look back on a state of the human soul that has been overcome in the course of history, but of which they say: because something happened in the past, this state of the soul, which rests in me as a subconscious influence, has become different from what it should have become. The Buddhist, however, faces the world in this way: I have been transferred into the world from a connection with the divine-spiritual world. When I look at it, this world offers me only maya, or illusion. But the Christian views the world as follows: I have descended into this world. If I had descended in a manner that corresponded solely to the previous conditions, I would be able to see through everything, behind the appearance of the senses, behind the illusion, into true being, and I would be able to find what is right everywhere. But since I have descended in a different way than the previous conditions would have dictated, I have made this world an illusion through myself. — Why is this world an illusion? asks the Buddhist. He answers: It is because of the world! — Why is this world an illusion? asks the Christian. He answers: It is because of me! I myself, my power of cognition, my whole state of mind have placed me in the world in such a way that I now do not see the original, that now the consequences of my deeds do not appear in such a way that everything is fruitful or could easily come into being. It is I myself who have covered the world with the veil of illusion. — So the Buddhist may say: The world is the great illusion, therefore I must overcome the world! Thus the Christian may say: I have been placed in the world and must find my goal there.
When the Christian realizes that spiritual science can lead him to the knowledge of repeated earthly lives, he can tell himself that he must use them to achieve the goal of his life. He knows that we now look upon a world full of suffering and error because we have strayed so far from our original destiny that, through our gaze and our deeds, we have transformed the world around us into Maya. But we do not have to remove ourselves from this world in order to attain bliss. Rather, we must overcome what we have done to ourselves and what causes us to see the world not in its true form but as an illusion, and return to our original human destiny. For there is a higher human being within us. If this higher human being, who is deeply hidden within us, were to look at the world, he would recognize it in truth; he would not lead his existence through illness and death, but through health and youthful freshness and everlasting life. This is the human being whom we have covered with a veil within ourselves by connecting ourselves to an event in the development of the world that continues to have an effect on us and testifies to us that we do not stand alone, that we are not led into the world by the thirst for existence of the individual, but that we rest in the whole of humanity and participate in an original sin of this whole of humanity.
Thus, historically, the Christian stands within the whole of humanity and feels connected to it, historically connected to this whole of humanity. He looks to a future of which he says to himself: What has been covered in me as if by a veil through the descent of humanity, I must regain. I must not seek nirvana, but I must seek the higher human being within me. I must find my way back to myself. Then the world around me will not be an illusion, but will be the world in which I will be able to overcome suffering, illness, and death through my own work. — Thus, the Buddhist seeks liberation from the world and from rebirth by combating the “thirst for existence,” while the Christian seeks liberation from the lower human being and the resurrection of the higher human being, whom he himself has covered with a veil in order to see the world in its truth. And it is something that relates to black and white, which we find in the wisdom of Buddha when we compare it with the meaningful words of Paul: “Not I — but Christ in me!” Here we see the consciousness that works within us, and with it we place ourselves as human individuals in the world. The Buddhist says: Man has descended from spiritual worlds because the world has pushed him down. So the world that has instilled in him the thirst for existence must be overcome; he must leave this world behind. But the Christian says: No, it is not the world that makes me this way, it is myself! — Thus, as Christians, we enter the world with our ordinary consciousness. Under this consciousness, something that used to be present as a clairvoyant, pictorial consciousness continues to work in our personality, in our individuality. We have erred within this consciousness, which is no longer ours. But if we want to achieve our goal in life, we must make amends for this error. Just as a person in later life must never say: I sinned in my youth, but it is not right for me to atone now for what I did in my youth, when I did not yet have my present consciousness — so too must a person now not say: It would be unjust if I were to make amends with my present consciousness for what I did in a different consciousness, which I no longer have, but which has been replaced by intellectual consciousness. But man can only make amends if the will arises in him to ascend from his present state of consciousness with the ego in which he now lives to a higher ego, which can be characterized by the Pauline word: Not I — but Christ in me — but a higher consciousness in me! — I have descended — the Christian must say — to other states than those that were previously conditioned. Now I must ascend again. But I must ascend not through the ego that I now have, but through a power that can take hold within me and lead me above the ordinary ego. This can only happen when not I, but Christ in me works and leads me back up to where I see the world not in Maya or illusion, but in its true reality, where the forces that have brought illness and death into the world can be overcome by what Christ in me accomplishes.
One understands Buddhism at its core best when one compares it with the core of Christianity. For then one sees how it is possible that Lessing, in his “Education of the Human Race,” can write: “Is not all eternity mine?” — that is, if I use successive incarnations to allow the power of Christ to live more and more within me, then I will attain what I cannot attain now because I have enveloped myself in a veil: the sphere of eternity. — The idea of reincarnation will reveal itself in a completely different light in the sun of Christianity. But it is not only the idea of reincarnation that matters, for it will be increasingly conquered by Christian culture as a spiritual-scientific truth in the future. What matters is that Buddhism, out of its innermost conviction, must hold the world responsible for the maya or illusion while the Christian makes himself responsible as a human being and places within the innermost being of man that which are processes in order to ascend to what can be called salvation, which in the Christian sense is not merely salvation, but resurrection, because the ego is thereby lifted up to a higher ego: to that from which man has descended.
Thus, when Buddhists look at the world, they are confronted with the original sin of the world and feel that they have been placed in this world and want to be redeemed from it. Christians are confronted with their original sin and want to correct it. This is a historical way of thinking. For here man links his existence to a primordial act of pre-humanity in the past and to a future act, where man will have progressed so far that his entire existence will be illuminated and transfigured by what we call the Christ being. This is also why Christianity does not place successive Buddhas in the development of the world, who, so to speak, repeat the same thing from epoch to epoch in a non-historical way, but rather places a unique event in the entire development of humanity. While Buddhists see their Buddha sitting under the Bodhi tree, ascending to enlightenment as an isolated human being, Christians look to Jesus of Nazareth as the descent from the world outside of what is the inspiring world spirit. This is illustrated just as vividly in the image of John's baptism in the Jordan as in the enlightenment of Buddha sitting under the Bodhi tree. Thus we see the Buddha sitting under the Bodhi tree with his own soul longing to be freed from rebirth, and we see Jesus of Nazareth standing in the Jordan: the essence of the world descends upon him, symbolically represented by the image of the dove as the spirit descending into his inner being. This is how the follower of Buddhism feels: Something from the deed of Buddha penetrates me, telling me: Quench your thirst for existence, tear out the roots of earthly existence and follow Buddha to where the worlds are that cannot be described with any earthly characteristics. — This is how the Christian feels: Something emanates from the deed of Christ, through which the deed that lies in pre-humanity can be corrected. And when the spiritual influence of the world behind the physical world becomes as alive in my soul as it is in Christ himself, then I will carry into my subsequent incarnations that which increasingly makes the Pauline words, “Not I, but Christ in me,” come true, that which will increasingly lift me up to the level from which I descended. — That is why it is so moving when it is said that Buddha said to his intimate disciples: "I look back on my former lives as on an open book, I can read page by page, I can survey life after life that I have gone through, and in each of these lives I have built myself a sensual body in which my spirit dwelt as in a temple. But now I know that this body, in which I have become the Buddha, is the last.“ And he pointed to the nirvana he was about to enter and said, ”I can already feel the beams cracking, the posts falling, the sensual body being built for the last time and now being completely destroyed."
Let us now compare this statement with another that we find in the Gospel of John, where Christ also points out that he dwells in an outer body, and let us hear what Christ says there: “Break down this temple — and on the third day I will raise it up again!” The completely opposite view! That is to say: I want to do something that can make everything fruitful and alive, everything that flows down from God out of pre-humanity, everything that flows into the world, into us. — We see in these words the indication that the Christian must live through all forces in the ever-recurring earthly lives that make the words true: “Not I — but Christ in me!” But we must be clear that Christ spoke in such a way that the building of this temple has, so to speak, an eternal significance, that it means the entry of the Christ force into all those who feel themselves to be part of the overall development of humanity. We must not speak of this event, which we call the Christ impulse, as if it could be repeated in any way in the course of human development. The Buddhist, if he thinks in the true sense, has a succession of Buddhas, a repetition of earth epochs, which in their earthly course have basically a similar meaning. Christians point to a unique event, characterized by the Fall, and must therefore also point to a unique event: the mystery of Golgotha, which is the reversal of that first event. Anyone who wanted to point to a repetition of the Christ event — as has often happened in human history and is threatening to happen again now — would only show that they do not grasp the actual nerve of a historical understanding of human development. If history is to be real, it must proceed in such a way that it is directed from a single point. Just as a scale must have a point of equilibrium and the beam on which the two pans hang must have a point of support, so too must there be a unique event in a historical conception of human development, such that historical development points backward and forward to such a unique event. Anyone who would speak of a repetition of the Christ event would be saying something as absurd as claiming that a balance beam could be supported at two points. The fact that Eastern wisdom speaks of a succession of similar individualities that replace one another, as is the case with a number of Buddhas, characterizes the difference between the Eastern worldview and what humanity has achieved in the course of its development, which first appeared in the West with the Christ impulse, which is unique. Anyone who wanted to dispute the uniqueness and singularity of the Christ event would at the same time dispute the possibility of a real history in human development, that is, they would understand nothing of real history.
What we can call the consciousness of the individual human being's inclusion in the whole of humanity — that a meaning pervades human development from beginning to end, that it is not merely the same thing repeating itself — is, in its deepest sense, also Christian consciousness. This belongs to Christianity and cannot be separated from it. It is the real progress that humanity has made in the course of its development, that it has progressed from the old worldview of the Orient to the new worldview, from non-history to history, — the progress from the belief that the wheels of world events always roll in the same way, one after the other, to the other belief, which sees something imbued with meaning in the entire development of humanity.
It is through Christianity that the teaching of repeated earthly lives acquires its true meaning. For now we say to ourselves: Man lives his repeated earthly lives because the meaning of earthly existence is to be repeatedly implanted in him and because with each earthly life a new meaning of earthly existence meets him. It is not only in the isolated, individual human being that there is a striving, but also in the whole of humanity, with which we feel connected, that there is meaning. And the Christ impulse standing in the middle shows that, with regard to the spiritual sun, human beings can become aware of this connection, that they do not merely become aware of a confession to a Buddha who tells them: “Redeem yourself!” but also of the connection with a Christ who has done the deed that corrects what is symbolically represented as the Fall in relation to the descent of human beings. We cannot characterize Buddhism better than by showing how it is the twilight of a worldview that has declined, and that a last great, powerful flash of this worldview was given with Gotama Buddha. We revere him no less for this. We revere him as the great spirit who once again brings into earthly existence the mood that truly brings humanity the awareness of its connection with the primordial wisdom, who points with his voice to the past. We know, on the other hand, that the Christ impulse points powerfully into the future, and that it should become more and more alive in human souls so that they understand: not salvation — but resurrection, transfiguration of earthly existence, that is what gives earthly existence its true meaning.
One need not seek what is active in human life only in dogmas, concepts, and ideas, for there may be some who like Buddhism better than they might like Christianity. Rather, one must seek the essential in the impulses, sensations, and feelings that give meaning to human development. And here we can say: there is something in our time that can inspire sympathy for Buddhism in a large number of minds. It is, in a sense, something similar to a Buddha mood in a large number of our contemporary people. Goethe did not yet have this Buddha mood. Goethe, with his love of existence, with his conviction that the spirit from which the human spirit originates is woven into external existence, sought salvation from the torments of narrowness that surrounded him, for example, during his first stay in Weimar, in the contemplation of the external world, going from plant to plant, from mineral to mineral, from work of art to work of art, and by seeking behind the plant, behind the mineral, behind the work of art, the spirit from which the human spirit originates. He sought to grow together with that which manifests itself as the spirit in all things. And Schopenhauer, his student, about whom even Goethe said, with reference to what Schopenhauer learned from Goethe:
Your well-intentioned thoughts, in foreign veins,
Will immediately quarrel with yourself
This Schopenhauer, who made his own coined phrase his motto: "Life is a difficult thing; and I have decided to make mine bearable with it. — Then such resignation leads to the stage where man becomes capable of bringing out the higher man, the Christ-man, from within himself. Then one resigns oneself because one knows that one has not yet reached the highest human stage. That is heroic resignation! It is compatible with human consciousness, for it says: We go from life to life with the feeling of existence, and as we live toward the future, we know that in the repetition of earthly existence, all eternity is ours.
Thus, throughout human development, two worldviews stand before us. One is Schopenhauer's, which says: Alas, this world with all its suffering is such that we can only feel the true position of human beings when we look at the works of the great painters, who depict a figure who, through his asceticism, has achieved something like liberation from earthly existence, already hovering above earthly existence. Basically, Schopenhauer believes, the highest form of such a human being, liberated from the earth through asceticism, is revealed in the fact that they look back on earthly existence and say: Now I only have my physical shell, which has become meaningless to me. I strive upward and anticipate the existence that will touch me when the earth is overcome, when I have overcome what is connected with earthly existence. Therein lies the great liberation. And I have nothing left in me that could remind me of my earthly existence in the future. So says Schopenhauer, after he was imbued with the attitude that Buddhism brought into the world. Goethe, out of a genuine Christian impulse, looks at the world as he lets his Faust look at the world. Even if we do not feel comfortable in the outwardly trivial. People withdraw — at least in terms of their knowledge — from the world of facts, in which there is so much to process, and want only to reach a higher level within themselves through the development of their souls. Thus, unconscious Buddhism has existed for a long time. It has influenced the philosophy of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. When such an unconscious Buddhist then becomes acquainted with Buddhism, he feels more related to Buddhism than to European spiritual science, which struggles with facts because it knows that the spirit manifests itself in the whole scope of facts.
Therefore, one can say: It is something of the unbelief and paralysis of the will that arise from a weakness of spiritual insight that arouses sympathy for Buddhism. The Christian worldview, on the other hand, demands in its very essence — as its fundamental spirit lived in Goethe — that human beings do not surrender to their individual weakness of insight and speak of the limits of insight, but that they say: There is something within me that can transcend all illusion and attain truth and liberation in life. — Such a worldview may also require a great deal of resignation, but it is a different kind of resignation than that which shrinks from the limits of knowledge. If one resigns oneself in the Kantian sense, one says: Man is not at all capable of penetrating the depths of the world. One resigns oneself in principle by issuing a special testimony to the weakness of knowledge. But one can also resign oneself with Goethe by saying to oneself: Today you are not yet at the stage of recognizing the world in its truth, but you are capable of development. Such resignation then leads to the stage where man becomes capable of bringing out the higher man, the Christ-man, from within himself. Then one resigns oneself because one knows that one has not yet reached the highest human stage. That is heroic resignation! It is compatible with human consciousness, for it says: We go from life to life with the feeling of existence and, as we live toward the future, we know that in the repetition of earthly existence, all eternity is ours.
Thus, throughout human development, two worldviews stand before us. One is Schopenhauer's, which says: Alas, this world with all its suffering is such that we can only feel the true position of human beings when we look at the works of the great painters, who depict a figure who, through his asceticism, has achieved something like liberation from earthly existence, already hovering above earthly existence. Basically, Schopenhauer believes, the highest form of such a human being, freed from the earth through asceticism, is revealed in the fact that they look back on earthly existence and say: Now I have only my physical shell, which has become meaningless to me. I strive upward and anticipate the existence that will touch me when the earth is overcome, when I have overcome what is connected with earthly existence. Therein lies the great liberation. And I have nothing left in me that could remind me of my earthly existence in the future. So says Schopenhauer, after he was imbued with the attitude that Buddhism brought into the world. Goethe, out of a genuine Christian impulse, looks at the world as he lets his Faust look at the world. Even if we do not look at things in an outwardly trivial sense, even if we know that everything we do on earth will decay with the earth and die with the earthly corpse, we can still say, in Goethe's sense: We look at everything we go through on earth, and by going through it, we learn. For even if what we build here on earth perishes, what we achieve by going through the school of earthly existence in our earthly building does not perish. — And so, with Faust, we look not only at the permanence of our earthly works, but also at the fruits of our earthly works in our own soul's eternity, and we say, in true Goethean fashion, summarizing in words that which must lead beyond Buddhism:
The traces of my earthly days
Not perish in aeons!