The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Ninth Lecture

[ 1 ] It has been repeatedly pointed out in these lectures that a certain shift in people’s relationship to the Gospels will occur in the future, in that the profoundly artistic, artistic-compositional elements in these Gospels, and that the occult backgrounds and the world-historical impulses depicted in the Gospels will only be seen in the right light when one engages with the artistic-compositional aspects of the Gospels. Fundamentally, in this respect as well, Gospel literature and Gospel art fit into the entire historical course of human evolution in the same way that we have been able to indicate regarding various points in recent days.

[ 2 ] We have pointed to those solitary figures in Greek culture who truly felt in their souls the fading, the gradual disappearance of the old clairvoyant vision and had to exchange it for that from which the human ego, present consciousness, abstract conceptuality, and abstract mental images must be worked out. We can point to something else as well, which in a certain way, precisely within Greek culture, reveals something like a kind of culmination of human culture, like a point to which this human culture has progressed, only to be further inspired from another point onward. This is Greek art. Why is it, then, that not only during the Renaissance in Europe did people, so to speak, seek the land of the Greeks—that is, the land of beauty—with their souls, seeing in the wonderful shaping of the human form an ideal of human development, but that even in the modern classical era, minds like Goethe likewise sought this land of the Greeks—that is, the land of beautiful form—with their souls? This stems from the fact that in Greece, beauty—which speaks through the immediate sight of the outer form—has indeed found a certain culmination, a culmination in a certain high point.

[ 3 ] It is the inner coherence of form that confronts us in Greek beauty, in Greek art. In the composition of a Greek work of art, one immediately perceives what is intended to be conveyed through that composition. It presents itself to the eye; it is fully present in the realm of the senses. Therein lies the greatness of Greek art: that it has emerged so completely into outward appearance. One might say that in this, the art of the Gospels also reveals a new beginning—a beginning that, to this day, has by no means been understood to any significant degree. It is an inner composition, an inner interweaving of the artistic threads, which are at the same time the occult threads, especially within the Gospels. That is why what we emphasized yesterday is so important: that one actually sees everywhere the point that is captured in the eye in any depiction, in any narrative.

[ 4 ] It is particularly in the Gospel of Mark—not so much through the wording as through the overall tone of the narrative—that it becomes clear that Christ is presented as a cosmic figure, as a being who is both earthly and otherworldly, and that the Mystery of Golgotha is portrayed as an event that is both earthly and otherworldly. But something else is emphasized as well, and here the subtle artistry toward the end of the Gospel of Mark particularly strikes us. It is emphasized: A cosmic impulse shone into earthly affairs. It shone in. It was up to the earthly beings, the earthly human beings, to respond to this impulse with understanding. Perhaps nowhere more so than in the Gospel of Mark is it suggested that, in order to understand what shone in from the cosmos into earthly existence, the entire remainder of earthly evolution is essentially necessary, and that this understanding was by no means possible at the time when the Mystery of Golgotha took place. And this fact of the understanding that did not yet exist at that time—the fact that understanding had only received its first impulse then and can only gradually emerge in the further development of humanity—is now portrayed in a truly wonderful way precisely in the artistic and compositional structure of the Gospel of Mark. We will sense this subtle artistic and compositional quality when we ask how understanding could have developed, how understanding could have been brought to bear on the Mystery of Golgotha at that time.

[ 5 ] Essentially, three different interpretations were possible. This understanding could be based on three factors: First, on those who were the closest, the chosen disciples of Christ Jesus; for they appear to us throughout the Gospel as those whom the Lord Himself has chosen and to whom He has entrusted many things for a higher understanding of existence. From them, then, we may expect the highest understanding of the Mystery of Golgotha. What understanding may we expect from them? This is subtly woven into the Gospel of Mark, especially as we approach the end. That these chosen disciples could have a higher understanding than the leaders of the Old Testament people is made very clear to us when we look for the crux of the matter throughout the text.

[ 6 ] There you will find a conversation that Jesus Christ has with the Sadducees (12:18–27). This conversation deals primarily with the immortality of the soul. If one takes the Gospel superficially, one will not easily grasp why this conversation with the Sadducees is included here—this conversation about immortality—and then the strange statement by the Sadducees, who say: It could happen that of seven brothers, one married a woman, but he dies, and the second marries the same woman; after the second has also died, the third marries her, and so on with the others, and she herself dies only after the seventh has died.” And the Sadducees did not understand how, if there is immortality, these seven men are to relate to the one woman in the spiritual life. This is the well-known Sadducee objection, which, as some of you may know, was not only raised at the time of the Mystery of Golgotha, but is also found in many a modern book as an objection to immortality—proof that even today, among those who write such books, a full understanding of the matter is still lacking. But why this conversation? If we examine it, it becomes clear from the very answer given by Christ Jesus that souls become heavenly after death and that there is no marriage among the beings of the super-earthly world; thus, there is absolutely no impropriety when this fact occurs, which the Sadducees cite, and that they are pointing to a relationship that is essentially only earthly and has no significance for the supernatural. In other words: Christ Jesus speaks of supernatural conditions that he wishes to introduce, insofar as they can be introduced for the understanding of supernatural life.

[ 7 ] But you will find yet another conversation as you approach the end of the Gospel of Mark. There, Jesus is asked about marriage (10:1–12). Christ Jesus and the Jewish scribes discuss how, according to the Law of Moses, it is possible to divorce a wife with a certificate of divorce. What is the significance of Christ Jesus’ reply: “Yes, Moses gave you this law because your hearts are hard, and you need such a provision”? The significance is that he now speaks about everything in a completely different way. Now he speaks of the union of man and woman as it existed before human evolution faced the temptation by the Luciferic powers. That is, he speaks of something cosmic, of something supermundane; he directs the matter toward something supermundane. This is what matters: that Christ Jesus directs the conversations beyond what pertains to the sensory realm, beyond the conditions of the sensory realm, and beyond ordinary earthly evolution. This is what is significant: he already demonstrates this in that he brings super-earthly, cosmic conditions down to earth through his appearance and speaks to earthly beings about these cosmic conditions.

[ 8 ] From whom, then, may we hope—or might we, so to speak, demand—that the words of Christ Jesus regarding cosmic conditions be best understood? From those whom he first chose as his disciples. So we can say that we might characterize this initial understanding as follows: The chosen disciples of Christ Jesus could have understood the Mystery of Golgotha in such a way that they were able to grasp the supermundane, the cosmic aspect of this event in world history. One could have expected this from the disciples whom he chose.

[ 9 ] A second understanding, a different kind of understanding that one might have expected, would have been that which could have come from the leaders of the ancient Hebrew people, from the high priests, from the chief judges, from those who know the Scriptures and who are familiar with the historical development of the Old Testament people. What could one have demanded of them? The Gospel makes it clear: No understanding is required of them regarding the cosmic conditions of Christ Jesus, but an understanding is expected that Christ Jesus came to the ancient Hebrew people and was born into the blood of this people with his individuality, that he is a son of the house of David, that he is intimately connected with the essence of what came into the Jewish people with David. This points us to the second kind of understanding, to this lesser understanding. That Christ Jesus has a mission which represents the culmination of the mission of the entire Jewish people is indicated in a wonderful way toward the end of the Gospel of Mark, in that it is pointed out more and more—see how subtly this is presented artistically and compositionally—that we are dealing with the Son of David. While, then, the disciples are required to understand the mission of the cosmic hero, those who count themselves among the Jewish people are required to understand that the conclusion of David’s mission has come. That is the second point. The Jewish people should have understood that a conclusion and a new impetus for their own mission could have come.

[ 10 ] And where would this third kind of understanding come from? Here, once again, something lesser is demanded. It is so remarkable how subtly and artistically this is presented to us in the Gospel of Mark. Once again, something lesser is demanded, and this lesser thing is demanded of the Romans. Read toward the end of the Gospel of Mark, where Christ Jesus is handed over to the Romans by the high priests, and see what happens there. — I am speaking now only of the Gospel of Mark. — The high priests still ask Christ Jesus whether he intends to speak of the Christ, whether he intends to profess himself as the Christ—which would offend them, because he would then be speaking of his cosmic mission—or whether he intends to speak of being a descendant of the house of David. What offends Pilate, the Roman? Only at the fact that he is said to have claimed to be the “King of the Jews” (15:1–15). The Jews were to understand that he represents a high point in their own development. The Romans were to understand that he signifies something within the development of the Jewish people—not a high point, but merely something that can play a leading role. If the Romans had understood this, what would have happened? Nothing other than what happened anyway; they simply did not understand it. We know that Judaism spread by making its way through the Western world via Alexandria. The Romans could have shown understanding that the moment in world history had now come for the spread of Jewish culture. This, again, is less than what the scribes were meant to understand. The Romans should have simply understood the significance of the Jews as a part of the world. That they did not understand this—which would have been a task of the times—is indicated by the fact that Pilate does not grasp that Jesus the Christ is regarded as the King of the Jews, but essentially regards it as a harmless matter that he is presented as a King of the Jews.

[ 11 ] Thus, a threefold understanding of the mission of Christ Jesus might have been expected: first, the understanding that the chosen disciples could have of the cosmic element of Christ, second, the understanding that the Jews were to have regarding what was unfolding within the Jewish people themselves, and third, the understanding that the Romans were to have regarding the Jewish people—how the Jews ceased to spread merely throughout Palestine and began to spread across a larger portion of the earth.

[ 12 ] This is a mystery inherent in the artistic and compositional aspects of the Gospel of Mark in particular. And the answers to all three questions are given to us, presented quite clearly.

[ 13 ] The first question must be: Were the apostles, the chosen disciples, up to the task, given their level of understanding? Did they recognize Christ Jesus as the cosmic Spirit? Did they realize that there was one among them who was not merely what he appeared to be as a human being before them, but who was enveloped in an aura through which cosmic forces and cosmic laws entered the Earth? Did they understand this?

[ 14 ] The Gospel clearly suggests that Christ Jesus demanded this understanding from them. For when the two disciples, the sons of Zebedee, came and asked that one of them might sit at his right hand and the other at his left, he said:

“You do not know what you are asking. Can you drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?” (10:38).

[ 15 ] The disciples first make this vow. It is clearly implied here that Christ Jesus demands this of them. What might have happened then? Two things could have happened. One would have been that the chosen disciples would truly have passed through all that has now taken place as the Mystery of Golgotha, that the bond between the disciples and Christ would have been preserved right up to the Mystery of Golgotha. That would have been one thing that could have happened. That it was not this, but the other, that happened, we see very clearly, in particular, from the Gospel of Mark: When Christ Jesus is arrested, everyone flees, and Peter, who had vowed not to be offended by anything, denies him three times before the rooster crows twice. That is the account from the apostles’ perspective. But what is the account, from the perspective of Christ himself, that it did not happen this way?

[ 16 ] Let us, with all humility—for this is how it must be—place ourselves in the soul of Christ Jesus, who strives to the very end to maintain the bond that had been woven with the souls of the Apostles; let us, as best we can, place ourselves in the soul of Christ as events unfold. There, this soul might well ask itself the question of world-historical significance: Can I bring about that the souls of at least the most chosen disciples rise to the heights to experience with me all that is to happen leading up to the Mystery of Golgotha? The soul of Christ itself stands before this question. It is a momentous occasion when Peter, James, and John are led out to the Mount of Olives, and Christ Jesus seeks within himself to see if he can hold on to them, the most chosen ones. And on the way there, he becomes fearful. Yes, my friends, does anyone believe, or is anyone allowed to believe, that Christ became anxious before death, before the Mystery of Golgotha, that he sweated blood on the Mount of Olives because of the approaching event of Golgotha? That would mean gaining little understanding of the Mystery of Golgotha. That may be theological, but it makes no sense. Why does Christ become sad? He does not tremble before the cross. That goes without saying. He trembles first of all at this: Will those whom I am taking with me survive this moment, in which it is to be decided whether they wish to go with me in their souls, whether they wish to experience everything with me up to the cross? That their state of consciousness remains so alert that they experience everything up to the cross—that is what is to be decided. That is the “cup” that is approaching him. And he leaves them alone so that they may remain “awake,” that is, in a state of consciousness in which they can experience with him what he is to experience. Then he goes and prays: “Father, let this cup pass from me, yet not my will, but yours be done.” That is to say: Do not let me experience that I stand entirely alone as the Son of Man, but that the others go with me. And he comes back, and they are asleep. They have not been able to maintain that state of consciousness. And he tries again, and they have not attained it again. And he tries once more, and they have not attained it again. Therefore, it was clear to him that he now stands alone, that they will not participate in what leads to the cross. The cup had not passed him by! He was destined to carry out the deed in solitude, even in the solitude of the soul.

[ 17 ] The world certainly had the mystery of Golgotha, but at the time it occurred, it did not yet have an understanding of this event. Not even the most distinguished and chosen could sustain themselves to that extent. So much for the first kind of understanding. How wonderfully artistic this is expressed when one is able to sense the actual occult background behind what lies within the Gospels.

[ 18 ] Now let us consider the second type of understanding; let us ask how the Jewish leaders understood the one who was to emerge from the house of David as the pinnacle of ancient Hebrew evolution. One of the first passages where we are shown what understanding the ancient Hebrew people had of the one descended from the house of David is found in the tenth chapter of the Gospel of Mark. It is the decisive passage where Christ approaches Jerusalem and was to be recognized by the ancient Hebrew people as the one who follows in David’s footsteps.

“And they came to Jericho. As he was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a large crowd, Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside.

And when he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

And many rebuked him, telling him to be quiet. But he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” (10:46–48.)

[ 19 ] The blind man’s cry is explicitly described as follows: “Son of David.” He is thus said to have come only to understand the “Son of David.”

“And Jesus stopped and said, ‘Call him here.’ So they called the blind man and said to him, ‘Take heart; get up, he is calling you.’

But he threw off his cloak, leaped up, and came to Jesus. And Jesus asked him, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ But the blind man said to him, ‘Rabboni, that I may see.’

And Jesus said to him, ‘Go; your faith has saved you.’ And immediately he received his sight and followed him along the road.” (10:49–52.)

[ 20 ] In other words: it was faith alone that he demanded. Is it not permissible to wonder why, among all the other stories, the healing of a blind man is mentioned here? Why does it stand there so isolated? People were meant to learn something from the structure of the Gospel. It is not the healing that matters at all, but the fact that of all the people, only one—the blind man—calls out with all his strength: “Jesus, Son of David!” The others do not recognize him. The blind man, who does not even see him physically, recognizes him. Thus, the point here is to show how blind the others are, and that this man first had to become blind in order to see him. It is the blindness, not the healing, that matters at this point. And at the same time, it shows just how little Christ is understood.

[ 21 ] As you read on, you will find him speaking throughout about how the cosmic permeates the human individual; indeed, he speaks of the cosmic by—and this is important again, that this is specifically woven into this context, where the Christ is to appear as the “Son of David”—speaks of immortality, that God is a God of the living and not of the dead, just as God is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (12:26–27), because Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob each live on in their descendants, in other forms, because God lives in their individuality. But this is indicated even more strongly where he reveals to humanity what lies dormant within them and is to be awakened. It is said there that this is not merely the physical son of David, for David himself speaks of the “Lord” and not of the physical son (12:35–37). The “Lord” in the individuality of the human being, that which is to spring from David’s line, is spoken of everywhere, as the influence of the cosmic Christ draws to a close.

[ 22 ] One passage in particular deserves special mention—look for it in the Gospel of Mark toward the end—a passage that is easy to overlook if one does not understand it, a passage that has a profound effect on the soul when one does understand it. It is the part where it is said that Christ is now delivered into the hands of the worldly powers, is to be condemned, and people are now looking for reasons to condemn him. This is preceded by a description of what he did in the temple, where he drove out the money changers and overturned the tables, where he preached very special words that the souls heard. That is why nothing happened to him. He expressly points this out: You have heard all of this, and now, as I stand before you, you are seeking false charges against me; you have arrested me through a traitor using the usual methods, as one seizes a person who has committed a grave offense; whereas you did nothing while I stood among you in the temple. — A shattering passage! For we are led to understand that, fundamentally, the Christ works everywhere in such a way that nothing can be done against him. Is it not permissible to ask “Why”? He truly works in such a way that he points out, in the most eminent sense, what a great turning point has occurred in the evolution of the world, by saying: “The first shall be last, and the last shall be first.” (9:35) Teachings that, when one considers the teachings and understanding of the Old Testament, must have been terrifying—he hurls them at them. Nothing happens. Later, he is arrested under cover of night and fog, arrested on the basis of a traitor’s testimony, and one almost gets the impression that there was something of a scuffle during this arrest. This passage is deeply moving:

“Now the betrayer had given them a sign, saying, ‘The one I kiss is the man; seize him and lead him away safely.’

And when he came, he immediately went up to him and said, ‘Rabbi, Rabbi!’ and kissed him. But they laid hands on him and seized him.

But one of those standing there drew his sword and struck the high priest’s servant, cutting off his ear.

And Jesus said to them, “Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest me as though I were a murderer?

Every day I was with you in the temple teaching, and you did not lay hands on me; yet the Scriptures must be fulfilled.” (14:44–49.)

[ 23 ] What actually happened there that they did not capture him at first, and then sought reasons to arrest him as a murderer? One can only understand what happened there by looking at things in their occult depths. I have already pointed out how the Gospel of Mark clearly shows that, in its course, occult facts and spiritual facts are described in a jumbled manner alongside purely physical facts. And we are clearly shown that Christ’s influence was not limited merely to the individual personality of Jesus of Nazareth, but that as he worked upon the disciples, he externalized himself, seeking them out by the lake outside of his physical body, just as he came to them. Thus, apart from his physical body—while it may have been here or there—he was able to place everything he accomplished, everything he radiated as an impulse, as Spirit, into the souls of the disciples. And in the Gospel of Mark, we are shown particularly clearly how people perceive what he preaches and teaches in his exteriorized state, outside his physical body. It lives in their souls. The souls do not understand it, but the souls live it within themselves. It is earthly and super-earthly, in the individuality of Christ and in the multitude.

[ 24 ] Christ is everywhere surrounded by a far-reaching, potent aura. This potent aura existed because he was connected in spirit to the people he had chosen, and it remained as long as he was connected to them. The cup had not passed. The chosen ones had shown no understanding. Then the aura gradually withdrew from the human being Jesus of Nazareth, and Christ and the Son of Man, Jesus of Nazareth, grew ever more estranged from one another. Toward the end of his life, Jesus of Nazareth was increasingly alone, and Christ was ever more loosely connected to him, ever more loosely.

[ 25 ] While the cosmic element, which had been present up until that very moment—depicted to us as the sweating of blood in Gethsemane—and while Christ had been fully united with Jesus of Nazareth up until that moment, this connection is now weakened by people’s lack of understanding. And whereas earlier the cosmic Christ worked in the temple and drove out the merchants, spreading the most powerful teachings, and nothing happened, the persecutors could now approach, since the Jesus of Nazareth was now only loosely connected to the Christ. We do indeed still see the Cosmic present, but it is bound less and less to the Son of Man. That is what makes the matter so shattering. And because the threefold understanding could not be there, what did people ultimately have? What could they seize, what could they condemn, and what could they nail to the cross? The Son of Man. And the more they did so, the more the cosmic element—which had entered earthly life as a young impulse—withdrew. It withdrew. And what remained for those who pronounced the judgment and carried out the sentence was the Son of Man, around whom hovered only what was meant to descend to Earth as a young cosmic element.

[ 26 ] No Gospel speaks of the Son of Man simply remaining there, with the cosmic element merely surrounding him, as the Gospel of Mark does. Therefore, in no other Gospel do we see the fact expressed so succinctly—in relation to the Christ event as a cosmic fact—that at the very moment when people, in their human folly, laid hands on the Son of Man, the cosmic element slipped away from them. The young cosmic element, which had been introduced from that turning point in history as an impulse of Earth’s evolution, slipped away. They had the Son of Man. This is clearly emphasized in the Gospel of Mark. Let us read the passage once more and see whether the Gospel of Mark emphasizes how the cosmic relates to the human precisely at this point in the event.

“And Jesus said to them, ‘Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest me, as though I were a murderer?

Every day I was teaching in the temple courts, and you did not arrest me; but the Scriptures must be fulfilled.

And they all left him and fled.” (14:48–50.)

[ 27 ] He stands alone. What is the nature of this young cosmic element? Imagine the loneliness of this man, who was imbued with the cosmic Christ, now facing his pursuers as if he were a murderer. And those who should have understood him are fleeing. “And they all left him and fled,” says verse 50; and then verses 51 and 52 read:

“And there was a young man in his retinue who was wearing a fine linen garment over his bare body; and they seized him.

But he let go of the linen garment and fled naked.”

[ 28 ] Who is the young man? Who is fleeing there? Who is it who appears there beside Christ Jesus, almost unclothed, and then slips away unclothed? That is the young cosmic impulse; that is the Christ who slips away, who now has only a loose connection with the Son of Man. Much is contained in these verses 51 and 52. The new impulse retains nothing of what the old times have been able to entangle around humanity. It is the completely naked, new cosmic impulse of Earth’s evolution. It remains with Jesus of Nazareth. And we find it again. For chapter 16 begins with:

“And when the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint him.

And very early on the first day of the week, they came to the tomb as the sun was rising. And they said to one another, ‘Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance of the tomb?’

And when they looked up, they saw that the stone had been rolled away; for it was very large.

And when they entered the tomb, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe; and they were terrified.

But he said to them, “Do not be afraid. You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified; he has risen.” (16:1–6.)

[ 29 ] This is the same young man. Nowhere else in the artistic composition of the Gospels do we encounter this young man, who slips away from humanity at the very moment they condemn the Son of Man, who returns once the three days have passed, and who from now on acts as the cosmic principle of the Earth. Nowhere else in the Gospels—compare the others—does this young man appear to us in such a magnificent way as in these two passages. Here we have what we need to understand the profound sense in which the Gospel of Mark specifically means that we are dealing with a cosmic event, just as we are dealing with the cosmic Christ. Only now does one grasp how the other artistic composition of the Gospel of Mark must have been accordingly.

[ 30 ] It is so strange that, after this momentous event—this second appearance of the young man—the Gospel of Mark comes to a swift close and contains only a few more striking sentences. For one can hardly imagine that anything that followed could have provided any further intensification—perhaps an intensification of the sublime and glorious, but not of what is shattering and significant for the evolution of the Earth, since embedded within this composition of the Gospel of Mark was the monologue of God, the cosmic conversation over the earth, on the mountain, to which the three disciples are called but do not understand; then Gethsemane, the scene on the Mount of Olives, where Christ must admit to himself that the chosen ones cannot grasp the meaning of what is to come; how he must go forward alone, how the Son of Man suffers and is crucified; then the world-historical loneliness of the Son of Man, who is forsaken, forsaken by those he has chosen, forsaken by the cosmic principle little by little. So that, having understood the mission and significance of the young man who slips from the sight and grasp of human beings, we understand in a particularly profound way the words: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (15:34.) Then the reappearance of the young man; briefly indicated here how the young man is a spiritual, a supernatural being, who becomes sensually perceptible only because of the special circumstances of that time, as he first revealed himself to Mary Magdalene. And “afterward he appeared to two of them as they were walking along the road, in a different form, as they were going through the countryside.” (16:12) The physical could not have shown itself in a different form.

[ 31 ] And then it comes to a swift conclusion, pointing toward the future in relation to what could not be understood at that time, because humanity, having reached the lowest point of its descent, had to be directed toward the future—this pointing toward the future being prepared in such a way that we can also fully appreciate the artistic and compositional elements within it. What, then, can we imagine as that which, like a reference to the future, emanates from the one who beheld this threefold lack of understanding while he had to accomplish the Mystery of Golgotha? We can imagine that he points out that, the further into the future we go, the more and more understanding people will have to gain for what happened back then.

[ 31 ] And then it comes to a swift conclusion, pointing toward the future in relation to what could not be understood at that time, because humanity, having reached the lowest point of its descent, had to be directed toward the future—this pointing toward the future being prepared in such a way that we can also fully appreciate the artistic and compositional elements within it. What, then, can we imagine as that which, like a reference to the future, emanates from the one who beheld this threefold lack of understanding while he had to accomplish the Mystery of Golgotha? We can imagine that he points out that, the further into the future we go, the more and more understanding people will have to gain for what happened back then.

“And then, if anyone says to you, ‘Look, here is the Christ!’ or ‘There he is!’ do not believe it.

For false Christs and false prophets will arise and perform signs and wonders to lead astray, if possible, even the elect.

But you, be on your guard! See, I have told you everything in advance” (13:21–23).

[ 33 ] Throughout the centuries since the events at Golgotha, there have been ample opportunities to take such words to heart as a warning. Whoever has ears to hear may hear even today how the word resounds to us from Golgotha: “If anyone then says to you, ‘Look, here is the Christ!’ or ‘There he is!’ do not believe it. For false Christs and false prophets will arise and perform signs and wonders, so as to lead astray, if possible, even the elect.”

[ 34 ] How should we approach the mystery of Golgotha? Among the few striking sentences that the Gospel of Mark still contains, after having spoken to us so powerfully, we also find the very last sentence, which speaks of the disciples after they had received a new impulse through the young man, the cosmic Christ, whereas previously they had shown so little understanding.

“But they went out and preached everywhere, and the Lord worked with them and confirmed the message by the signs that accompanied it.” (16:20)

[ 35 ] The Lord was at work! This is the confession made in the spirit of the Mystery of Golgotha. Not that the Lord could be embodied anywhere in a physical body, but wherever he is understood, there he also works from the supersensible worlds, when action is taken in his name—not with the vanity of presenting him physically—and he is spiritually present among those who understand his name in truth. Properly understood, the Gospel of Mark speaks of the Mystery of Golgotha itself in such a way that, through its correct understanding, we also find the possibility of a true fulfillment of the Mystery of Golgotha. Precisely in what is found only in the Gospel of Mark, in this remarkable account of the young man who seems to detach himself from Christ Jesus at the decisive moment, we are also shown how the Gospel must be understood. Since they fled, the chosen ones, they did not, of course, experience everything that now took place and that is also recounted in the Gospel of Mark. In the middle of the composition, a passage is inserted in a truly artistic manner; as clearly as anything, a passage is inserted here in which the disciples were not present, where no one was an eyewitness. And yet everything is told. This question still stands before us, and we will attempt to delve even deeper into the answer to this question and thereby shed light on the other as well.

[ 36 ] Where, then, does the other account come from—the one the disciples did not witness? Jewish traditions tell a very different story from what is recounted here in the Gospels. Since those who report on it were not present—with regard to the truth of the Mystery of Golgotha—where does the account come from of what no one on the side of the propagators of Christianity could have seen?

[ 37 ] This question will take us even deeper into the matter.