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Building Stones for an Understanding of the Mystery of Golgotha
GA 175

1 May 1917, Berlin

Lecture IX

In the course of our studies I have spoken of the events in the early development of Western civilization. My aim was to ascertain from these enquiries into the past what is of importance for the present, and with this object in view I propose to pursue the matter in further detail. Our present epoch, as we can see from a cursory glance, is an epoch when only thoughts derived from the Mystery teachings concerning human evolution can exercise effective influence. Now in order to grasp the full implication of this claim we must not only have a clear understanding of many things, but we must also look closely into the needs and shortcomings of contemporary thinking, feeling and willing. We shall then begin to feel that our present epoch has need of new impulses, new thoughts and ideas, and especially of those impulses and thoughts which spring from the depths of the spiritual life and which must become the subject of spiritual-scientific study.

At the present time there is much that fills us with sadness. We must not allow ourselves to be depressed by this mood of sadness, rather should it be something that can prepare us and teach us to work and strive in our present circumstances. I recently came across a publication which I felt would give me the greatest pleasure. The author is one of the few who are receptive to the ideas of Spiritual Science and the more is the pity that he was unable to introduce into his writings the fruits of anthroposophical endeavour. The book to which I am referring is The State as Organism, by Rudolf Kjellén,1Rudolf Kjellen (1864–1922), Swedish historian, professor at Upsala. Belonged to the school of “geopolitics”, the doctrine of the interaction of geographical and political factors in the constitution and development of States. the Swedish political economist. After reading the book, I must confess that I was left with a feeling of disappointment because I realized that here was a person who, as I said, was receptive to the ideas of Spiritual Science, but whose thoughts were still far removed from the thoughts we stand in need of today, thoughts which must be clearly formulated and become concrete reality, especially today, so that they may enter into the evolution of our time. In his book Kjellén undertook to study the State and its organization, but at no time does one feel that he possessed the ideas or the intellectual grasp which could offer the slightest chance of solving his problem. It is a melancholy experience to be disillusioned time and again—but let us not be discouraged, let us rather brace ourselves to meet the challenge of our time.

Before I say a few words on these matters I should like to call your attention once again to those ancient Mysteries which, as you can well imagine from the statements I recently made about the iconoclasm of the (Christian) Church, are known to history today only in a mangled version. It is all the more necessary therefore for our present age that Spiritual Science should bring an understanding of these Mysteries. I mentioned in my last lecture the unprecedented fury with which Christianity in the first centuries destroyed the ancient works of art and how much that was of priceless value was swept away. One cannot take an impartial view of Christianity unless one is prepared to see this destructive side with complete objectivity. And bear in mind at the same time that the various books which deal with this subject present a particular point of view. Everyone today who has received a minimum of education has a picture of the spiritual development of Antiquity, of the spiritual evolution that preceded Christianity. But how different this picture would be if Archbishop Theophilus 2Theophilus. Patriarch of Alexandria 385–412. He condemned Origen at the Synod of Alexandria 408. “He deprived the pagans of Alexandria of a temple ... and apparently destroyed other temples. A riot ensued and a number of Christians were slain. With Theophilus at their head the Christians retaliated by destroying the celebrated temple of Serapis on the ruins of which the patriarch erected a church.” (Quotation from the Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. XIV, 1913.) of Alexandria had not burnt in the year 391 seven hundred thousand scrolls which contained vitally important records of Roman, Egyptian, Indian and Greek literature and their cultural life. Just imagine how different would be the picture of Antiquity if these seven hundred thousand scrolls had not been burnt. And from this you will realize how much reliance can be placed on the history of the past which has documentary support—or rather how little reliance!

Let us now follow up the train of thought which I touched on in my lecture yesterday. I pointed out that the forms of Christian worship were in many respects borrowed from the symbols and ceremonies of the ancient pagan Mystery cults, that the forms of these Mystery cults and symbols had been totally eradicated by Christianity in order to conceal their origin. Christianity had made a clean sweep of the pagan forms of worship so that people had no means of knowing what had existed prior to their time and would simply have to accept what the Church offered. Such is the fate of human evolution. We must be prepared to recognize without giving way to pessimism that the course of human evolution is not one of uninterrupted progress.

I also showed in the course of my lecture yesterday that the rites and rituals of the Roman Church owed much to the Eleusinian Mysteries which had been interrupted in their development because Julian had been unable to carry out his intentions; his plan had failed to materialize. But the rites and sacraments of later years owed still more to the Mithras Mysteries. But the spirit of the Mithras Mysteries, that which justified their existence, the source from which they derived their spiritual content, can no longer be investigated. The Church has been careful to remove all traces of it and to close the door to enquiry. Knowledge of this can only be recovered if we strive to come to an understanding of these things through Spiritual Science. Today I propose to touch upon only one aspect of the Mithras Mysteries.3Mithras Initiation. According to R. J. Vermaseren, in Mithras, the Secret God (Chatto & Windus, 1963) he who had acquired sufficient knowledge “could gain successively the title of Raven (Corax), Bride (Nymphus), Soldier (Miles), Lion (Leo), Persian (Perses), Courier of the Sun (Heliodromus) and Father (Pater)”. This book is a classic in the study of Mithraism. There are figures in the text and illustrations. I could of course speak at greater length about the Mithras Mysteries if I had more time at my disposal, but in order to understand them we must first gradually become conversant with their details.

In order to grasp the true spirit of the Mithras Mysteries whose influence spread far into the West of Europe during the first post-Christian centuries, we must be aware that they were based upon a central core of belief (which was right for the world of Antiquity and perfectly justified up to the time of the Mystery of Golgotha), that the community or the individual communities, for example, the folk-communities or other groups within the folk-communities consisted not only of the individual units or members, but that, if they were to have any reality, communities must be imbued with a community spirit which has a super-sensible origin. A community was determined not only by the counting of heads, but for the people of Antiquity it represented the external form, the incarnation, if I may use the word in this connection, of a genuinely existing communal spirit. The aim of those who were received into these Mysteries was to participate in this spirit, to share the thoughts of this group-soul; not to insulate themselves from the community by obstinately pursuing their own egoistic thoughts, feelings and volitional impulses, but to live in such a way that they were receptive to the thoughts of the group-soul. In the Mithras Mysteries in particular the priests maintained that this union with the group-soul cannot be achieved if one looks upon a larger community simply as an external manifestation, for thereby that which lies in the community spirit is in the main obscured. The dead, they claimed, are part of our immediate environment and the more we can commune with those who have long been dead the better we shall order our present life. Therefore the longer these souls had been discarnate, the more beneficial they found it to commune with these souls. And in order to be able to commune with the spirit of the ancestor of a tribe, folk-community or family they found it best to make contact with the ancestral soul. It was assumed that this soul develops further after passing through the gates of death and therefore has a deeper insight into the future destiny of the Earth than those who are living on this Earth in their present physical bodies. Thus the whole purpose of these Mysteries was to establish those dramatic representations which would put the neophyte into touch with the souls of those who had long passed through the gates of death.

Those who were admitted to these Mysteries had to undergo a first stage of initiation which was usually characterized by a term borrowed from the bird-species; they were called “Ravens”. A “Raven” was a first-degree initiate. Through the particular Mystery rites, through the potent use of symbols and especially through dramatic performances he became aware not only of the sensible world around him or of what one learns through contact with one's fellow-men, but also of the thoughts of the dead. He acquired a certain capacity which enabled him to recall memories of the dead and the ability to develop it further. The “Raven” was under the solemn obligation to be conscious in the moment, to be alert and responsive to the world around, to be aware of the needs of his fellow-men and to familiarize himself with the phenomena of nature. He who spends his life in day-dreaming, who has no feeling for the indwelling spirit of man and nature was considered to be unsuitable material for reception into the Mysteries. For only the ability to see life around him clearly and in its true perspective fitted him for the task which he had to fulfil in the Mysteries. His task was to participate as far as possible in the changing circumstances of the world in order to widen the range of his experience, to share in the joys and sorrows of contemporary events. He who was unresponsive or indifferent to contemporary events was an unsuitable candidate for initiation. For the first task of the aspirant was to “reproduce”, to re-enact in the Mysteries the experiences gained through participation in the life of the world. In this way these experiences served as a channel of communication with the dead with whom the Initiates sought to make contact. Now you might ask: Would not a high Initiate have been more suitable for this purpose? By no means, for the first-degree Initiates were eminently suited to act as intermediaries because they still possessed all the feelings, shared all the sympathies and antipathies which fitted them for life in the external world, whilst the higher Initiates had more or less purged themselves of those emotions. Therefore these first-degree Initiates were specially suited to experience contemporary life in terms of the ordinary man and to incorporate it into the Mysteries. It was therefore the special task of the “Ravens” to mediate between the external world and those long dead. This tradition has survived in legend. As I have often stated legends as a rule have deep implications. The Kyffhäuser legend tells how Friedrich Barbarossa who had long been dead is instructed by Ravens, or how Charles the Great in the “Salzburg Untersberg” is surrounded by Ravens that brought him news of the outside world. These are echoes of the ancient pagan Mysteries and especially of the Mithras Mysteries.

When the aspirant was ready for the second degree of initiation he became an adept or “occultist” as we should say today. He was then able not only to incorporate into the Mysteries his experience of the sensible world, but also to receive clairvoyantly the communications from the dead, the impulses which the super-sensible world (this world of concrete reality which the dead inhabit) had to impart to the external world. And only when he was fully integrated into the spiritual life which originates in the super-sensible and is related to the external, sensible world was he considered to be adequately prepared for the third degree, and he was now given the opportunity to give practical expression to the impulses he had received in the Mysteries. He was now singled out to become a “warrior”, one who mediates to the sensible world that which must be revealed from the super-sensible world.

But was it not a gross injustice, you may ask, to withhold vital information from the people and to initiate only a select few? You will only understand the reason for this if you accept what I stated at the outset, namely, that the people were dependent upon a group-soul and were content for these select few to act on behalf of the whole community. They did not look upon themselves as separate individuals but as members of a group. It was only possible therefore to pursue this policy of selection at a time when the existence of a group-soul, when the selfless identification with the group was a living reality.

And when, as a “warrior” the initiate had championed for a time the cause of the super-sensible, he was considered fitted to establish smaller groups within the framework of the larger group, smaller communities within larger groups as the need arose. If, in those ancient times, anyone had taken into his head to found an association on his own initiative, he would have been ignored. Nothing would have come of it. In order to establish a union or association the initiate must become a “lion”, as it was termed in the Mithras Mysteries, for that was the fourth degree of initiation. He must first have reinforced his spiritual life through association with those impulses which existed not only amongst the living, but which united the living with the dead. From the fourth degree the initiate rose to a higher degree of initiation which permitted him through certain measures to take over the leadership of an already existing group, a folk-community in which the dead also participated. The eighth, ninth and tenth centuries before the Mystery of Golgotha are totally different from those of today. It would never have occurred to anyone to claim the right to choose arbitrarily the leader of their community; such a leader had to be an initiate of the fifth degree. Then, at the next higher degree, the initiate attained to those insights which the Sun Mystery (of which he had recently received intimations) implanted in the human soul. Finally he attained the seventh degree of initiation. I do not propose to enter into the details of these later degrees of initiation, for I simply wished to characterize the progressive development of the initiate who owed to his contact with the spiritual world his capacity to take an active part in community life.

Now you know that the group-soul nature has gradually declined in accordance with the necessary law of human evolution. It was at the time of the Mystery of Golgotha that man first developed ego consciousness. This had been prepared for centuries, but the crisis, the critical moment in this development had been reached at the time of the Mystery of Golgotha. One could no longer assume that the individual had the power to carry the whole community with him, to transfer his feelings and impulses to the entire community in a spirit of altruism.

It would be foolish to imagine that the course of history could have been other than it has been. But sometimes a thought such as the following may prove fruitful: what would have happened if, at the time when the message of Christianity first made its impact on human evolution, the pagan traditions had not been eradicated root and branch, but if historically a certain knowledge (which would be transparent even to those who relied on documents) had been transmitted to posterity? But Christianity was opposed to such a possibility. We will discuss later the reason for this attitude; today I wish simply to register the fact that Christianity was opposed to the transmission of this knowledge. Thus Christianity was confronted by a totally different kind of humanity which was not so much attached to the group-souls as that of former times, a humanity in which the approach to the individual had to be totally different from that of ancient times when the individual was virtually ignored and when men looked to the group-soul for guidance and acted out of the group-soul. Through the fact that Christianity suppressed all documentary evidence of the early centuries the people were kept in ignorance; Christianity in fact consciously fostered ignorance of the epoch when it had first developed. This Christianity borrowed those aspects of the pagan teaching which served its purpose and incorporated them in its traditions and dogmas and especially in its cults or religious ceremonies and then effaced all traces of the origin of these cults. The ancient cults have a deep symbolic meaning, but Christianity gave them a different interpretation. The performance of cult acts or ceremonies was still a familiar sight, but the source of the primeval wisdom from which they derived was concealed from the people.

Take for example the bishop's mitre of the eighth century. This mitre was embroidered with swastikas which were arranged in different patterns. The swastika which was originally the Crux Gammata dates back to the earliest Mysteries, to the ancient times when man was able to observe the activity of the “lotus flowers” in the human etheric and astral organism, how that which was active in the lotus flower was one of the chief manifestations of the etheric and astral forces. The bishop wore the swastika as a symbol of his authority, but its significance was lost and it had become a dead symbol. All traces of its origin had been eradicated. What history tells us of the origin of such symbols is only dry bones. Only through Spiritual Science can we rediscover the living spiritual element in these things.

Now I said earlier that people were consciously kept in ignorance, but the time has now come to dispel this ignorance. And over the years I think that I have said enough and in a variety of ways to show that it is essential at the present time to be alive and alert to these questions. For our epoch is an epoch in which the necessary period of darkness has run its course and when the light of spiritual life must dawn again. It is devoutly to be wished that as many as possible should feel in their hearts that this spiritual light is a necessity for our time and that the failures and endless sufferings of our time are connected with all these questions. We shall realize that superficial judgements are inadequate when we come to speak of the causes of our present situation. So long as we speak only from a superficial standpoint we shall be unable to develop thoughts or impulses which are sufficiently potent to dispel the ignorance which is the source of our attendant ills. It is indeed remarkable how mankind today—but this need not depress us, rather should it encourage us to observe and understand our present condition—is unwilling to face up to the situation because, for the most part, man is as yet unable to perceive what is really necessary for our evolution. It is heartbreaking to see what Nietzsche felt about the prevailing darkness and confusion of our age, a man who suffered deeply from, and was driven to the point of madness by the chaos and confusion of the second half of the nineteenth century. We shall not come to terms with a personality such as Friedrich Nietzsche if we look upon him as someone whom one blindly follows, as so many have done. For he answered these blind followers in the original prelude to the “Gay Science”.

I am sufficient unto myself
I owe allegiance to none,
And I laugh at every master
Who cannot laugh at himself.

That is also the underlying mood of the whole of “Thus spake Zarathustra”. But this did not prevent Nietzsche from being surrounded by many who were merely hangers-on. They, in any case, have nothing positive to contribute to our present situation. But the other extremists—and between these two groups can be found every shade of opinion—are equally of no help, for they say that although Nietzsche had many creative ideas, he ultimately lost his reason and so can be safely ignored. Friedrich Nietzsche is a strange phenomenon; one need not be his willing slave, yet the fact remains that even in his period of mental sickness he was acutely sensitive to the darkness and chaos of the age.

Indeed the account of the distress which Nietzsche suffered in his time provides us with a good yardstick with which to measure the difficulties of our own time. I propose to read two passages from Nietzsche's posthumous writings: “The Will to Power; the Transvaluation of all Values” 4Nietzsche. “The Will to Power and the Transvaluation of all Values.” According to P. Tillich “will” here means “the universal dynamics of all life processes and ‘power’ the affirmation of one's own individual existence. It is the power of the best.” The transvaluation of all values implies that since “God is dead”, i.e. that traditional and ethical values no longer stem from belief in a transcendent authority, man himself must re-create them. The “Übermensch” must be developed. He is the “superior” man physically, mentally and spiritually, the man of self-discipline who has learned to command and obey, to accept responsibility, whose watchword is duty and honour. It is an aristocratic ideal. According to Nietzsche his antitype is mass man, the “herd man” who has succumbed to ideologies that promise happiness and well-being. He is timid, bored, conformist, opposed to tradition and culture. This “slave morality” is utilitarian and keeps only its own advantage in view and prepares the ochlocracy, the “nihilism” towards which we are moving (p. 13 in the English text). which was written at a time when his mind was unhinged, passages which could have been written today with a wholly different intent than Nietzsche's and could have been written to expose the deeper underlying cause of our present situation. Nietzsche wrote:

“What I am about to relate is the history of the next two centuries. I shall describe what is foreshadowed and from which there is no escape—the triumph of nihilism. This history can be written now, for necessity is already at work here. This future is already presaged by a hundred different omens; this destiny announces its presence everywhere; for the music of tomorrow all ears are pricked. The whole of European culture is slowly moving towards catastrophe in an agony of suspense which increases from decade to decade—restless, violent, precipitate like a river in spate hastening to its ocean bed, and which refuses to reflect and even dreads reflection.”

Judge then of your own reactions in the light of these words from the pen of a man of rare sensitivity at the end of the eighties of the nineteenth century and compare these words with another passage which I will now read to you and which vividly portrays the deep distress he felt and which everyone can experience himself.

“My friends, we had a hard time in our youth; we even suffered from youth as if it were a serious disease. This is owing to the age in which we are born—an age of great internal decay and disintegration which, with all its weakness and even with the best of its strength is opposed to the spirit of youth. Disintegration, that is to say a sense of insecurity, is peculiar to our age; nothing stands on solid ground or on sound faith or belief. People live for the morrow, because the day after tomorrow is uncertain. Our path is slippery and dangerous and the ice that still bears us has become precariously thin: we all feel the mild and ominous breath of the thaw-wind. Within a short space of time the path we are treading will never be able to know the footsteps of man again.”

It is clear that these sentiments were born of a profound insight into the realities of the time. He who would understand the age in which we live and especially the task that faces the individual, he who can look beyond the moment and the day will himself feel what is expressed in those passages and will perhaps say: Nietzsche's mental derangement prevented him from adopting a critical attitude to the ideas which arose in him. None the less these ideas stemmed from an acute sensitivity to the immediate realities of the present age. Perhaps we shall one day draw a comparison between Nietzsche's response to his age and the customary pronouncements of “experts” which do not even touch the fringe of the causes which lie at the root of our present difficult times. We shall then change our attitude and see the necessity for Spiritual Science today. People are unwilling to listen to the teachings of Spiritual Science; but in saying this I have no wish to imply reproach. Far be it from me to attach blame to anyone. The people to whom I am referring are for the most part those for whom I feel great respect and who, in my opinion, would be the first to take to Spiritual Science. I simply wish to point out how difficult it is for the individual to be receptive to Spiritual Science if he is impervious to spiritual appeal, if he succumbs entirely to the Zeitgeist, to the superficial trends of the time. One must be fully aware of this.

At this juncture I can now revert to Kjellen's book, The State as Organism. It is a curious book because the author strives with every fibre of his being to clarify the question: What is the State in reality?—and because he does not believe in the capacity of man's ideas and concepts to understand this question. It is true that the book contains many fine things which have been praised by contemporary critics, but the author has not the slightest idea of the deeper layers of understanding and knowledge which are necessary in order to rescue mankind from its present predicament. I have only time to refer to the central theme of his book. Kjellen raises the question: What is the relation of the individual to the State? And in attempting to answer this question he immediately came up against a difficulty. He wished to depict the State as a reality, as an integrated whole, in other words, as an organism primarily. Many have already described the State as an organism and are then always faced with the question: an organism consists of cells, what then are the cells of the State? Clearly the individual members of the State!—And on the whole Kjellen also shared this view: the State is an organism as the human or animal organism is an organism, and just as the human organism consists of individual cells, so too the State consists of individual cells, of human beings who are the cells of the State.

One can hardly imagine a more misguided or misleading analogy. If we follow up the analogy we shall never arrive at a clear understanding of man. Why is this? The cells of the human organism are juxtaposed, and this juxtaposition has a special significance. The whole structure of the human organism depends upon this juxtaposition. In the organism of the State the individual units or members are not contiguous like the individual cells in the human or animal organism. That is out of the question. In the totality of the State the human personality is something wholly different from the cells in the organism. And even if at a pinch we compare the State with an organism we must realize that we and the whole of political science are sorely mistaken if we overlook the fact that the individual is not a cell; only the productive element in man can sustain the State, whilst the organism is an aggregate of cells and it is they which determine its functioning. Therefore the present State in which the group-soul is no longer the same as in ancient times can only progress through the endeavour or initiative of the single individual. This cannot be compared with the function of the cells. As a rule it is immaterial what we choose to compare, but if we make a comparison between two objects they must be related objects. As a rule it is accepted that analogies are valid to some extent, but they should not be so far fetched as Kjellén's analogy. There is no objection to his comparing the State with an organism; one could equally well compare it with a machine (there is no harm in that) or even with a penknife—doubtless points of similarity can be found here too—but, if the comparison is carried through, it must be consistent. But people are not sufficiently familiar with the principles of logic to be aware of this.

Now Kjellén is perfectly entitled to compare the State with an organism if he so wishes. But if he wishes to make this comparison he must look for the right cells. But they cannot be found because the State has no cells! If we think about the matter concretely the analogy breaks down. I simply wish to point out that one can only carry this analogy through if one thinks in an abstract way like Kjellen. The moment one thinks realistically, one demurs, because the idea has no roots in reality. We find that the State has no cells. On the other hand we discover that the individual States can perhaps be compared to cells and that the sum total of States on Earth can be compared to an organism. A fruitful idea then occurs to us. But first we must answer the question: what kind of organism? Where can one find something comparable in the kingdom of nature where the cells fit into each other in the same way as the individual “State cells” fit into the entire organism of the Earth? Pursuing this idea we find that we can only compare the entire Earth organism with a plant organism, not with an animal organism and still less with a human organism. Whilst natural science is only concerned with the inorganic, with the mineral kingdom, political science must be founded on a higher order of ideas, on the ideas of the plant kingdom. We must look to neither the animal nor the human kingdom and we must free ourselves from mineralized thinking, dead thought forms to which the scientists are so firmly attached. They cannot rise to the higher order of ideas embodied in the plant kingdom, but apply laws of the mineral kingdom to the State and call it political science.

In order to arrive at this fruitful conception mentioned above our whole thinking must be rooted in Spiritual Science. We shall then be able to satisfy ourselves that the whole being of man by virtue of his individuality is far superior to the State, he penetrates into the spiritual world where the State cannot enter. If therefore you compare the State with an organism and the individual member of the State with the cells, then, if you think realistically, you will arrive at the idea of an organism consisting of individual cells, but the cells would everywhere extend beyond the epidermis. You would have an organism with its cells which extends beyond the epidermis; the cells would develop independently of the organism and would be self-contained. You would therefore have to picture the organism as if “living bristles” which felt themselves to be individuals were everywhere projecting beyond the epidermis. Living thinking thus brings us into touch with reality, and shows us the impossible difficulties that must face us if we wish to grasp any idea that is to be fruitful. It is not surprising therefore that ideas which are not impregnated with Spiritual Science have not the capacity to sustain us in coping with our present situation. For how can one reduce to order the chaos in the world if one has no idea of its cause? No matter how many Wilsonian manifestos are issued by all kinds of international organizations or associations and the like, so long as they have no roots in reality, they are so much empty talk. Hence the many proposals which are put forward today are a sheer waste of time.

Here is an example which demonstrates how imperative it is that our present age should be permeated with the impulses of Spiritual Science. It is the tragedy of our time that it is powerless to develop ideas which could reconcile and control the organic life of the State. Hence everything is in a state of chaos. But it must now be clear to you where the deeper causes of this chaos are to be sought. And it is not surprising therefore that books such as Kjellen's The State as Organism conclude in the most remarkable manner. We are now living in an age when everybody is wondering what is to be done so that men may once again live in harmony, when with every week they are increasingly determined to live in enmity and to slaughter each other. How are they to be brought together again? But the science which deals with the question of how men are once again to develop social relationships within the State concludes in Kjellen's case with these words: “This must be the conclusion of our enquiry into the State as organism. We have seen that for compelling reasons the State of today had made little progress in this direction and has not yet become fully aware that this is its function. None the less we believe in a higher form of State which recognizes a more clearly defined rational purpose and which will make determined efforts to achieve this goal.”

That is the concluding passage in his book; but we do not know, we have no idea what will come of it. Such are the findings of a painstaking and conscientious thinking that is so caught up in the stream of contemporary thought that it overlooks the essentials. One must face these problems squarely; for the impulse, the desire to gain insight into these problems only arises when we face them squarely, when we know what are the driving forces in our present age.

Even without looking far beneath the surface we perceive today an urge towards a kind of “socialization”, I do not mean towards socialism, but towards “socialization” of the Earth organism. But socialization—because it must be conscious, and not proceed from the unconscious as in the last two thousand years—socialization, reorientation or reorganization, is only possible if we understand the nature of man, if we learn to know once again the being of man—for that was the object of the ancient Mysteries. Socialization applies to the physical plane. But it is impossible to establish a social order if one ignores the fact that on the physical plane are to be found not only physical men, but men endowed with soul and spirit. Nothing can be achieved if we think of man only in physical terms. You may socialize, you may order social life in accordance with contemporary ideas, and within twenty years everything will be in chaos again if you ignore the fact that man is not only the physical being known to natural science, but a being endowed with soul and spirit. For soul and spirit are active agents and exercise a powerful influence. We may ignore their existence in our ideas and representations, but we cannot abolish them. If the soul is to inhabit a physical body which participates in a social order appropriate to our time it must have freedom of thought and opinion. Socialization cannot be realized without freedom of thought. And socialization and freedom of thought cannot be realized unless the spirit is rooted in the spiritual world itself.

Freedom of thought as an attitude of mind or way of thinking, pneumatology, spiritual maturity and spiritual science—as scientific foundation of all ordinances and directives—these are inseparably linked. We can only discover through spiritual science how these things are related to man and how they can he realized practically in the social order. Freedom of thought, that is, an attitude to one's neighbour that fully recognizes his right to freedom of thought, cannot be realized unless we accept the principle of reincarnation, for otherwise we look upon man as an abstraction. We shall never see him in the right light unless we look upon him as the result of repeated lives on Earth. The whole question of reincarnation must be examined in connection with the question of freedom of thought and opinion. The life of man will be impossible in the future unless the inner life of the individual can be rooted in the life of the spirit. I am not suggesting that he must become clairvoyant, though this will certainly occur in individual cases, but I maintain that he must be firmly rooted in the life of the spirit. I have often explained that this is perfectly possible without becoming clairvoyant. If we look around a little we shall find where the major hindrances lie and in what direction we must look for the source of these obstacles. It is not that people are unwilling to search for the truth—and as I have said, I do not wish to reprove or to criticize—but they erect psychic barriers and are the victims of their many inhibitions.

Often an isolated instance is so instructive that we are able to gain a real understanding of many contemporary phenomena from these symptoms. There is one symptom peculiar to our own time which is most remarkable. It is curious how people who are normally so brave and courageous today, are terrified when they hear that the claims of spiritual knowledge are to be recognized. They are bewildered. I have often told you that I noticed that many who had attended one or two lectures were not seen again for some time. Meeting them in the street I asked why they had never turned up again. “I dare not”, came the reply. “I am afraid you might convince me.” They find such a possibility dangerous and disturbing and are not prepared to expose themselves to the risk. I could cite many other examples of a similar kind from my own experience, but I prefer to give examples from the wider field of public life.

A short time ago I spoke here of Hermann Bahr 5Hermann Bahr (1863–1934). Austrian dramatist, novelist and essayist. In his later years he returned to the Church and represented the Catholic school of thought, cf. his novel Himmelfahrt. who recently gave a lecture here in Berlin entitled “The Ideas of 1914”. I pointed out how he attempted—you need only read his last novel Himmelfahrt—not only to move a little in the direction of Spiritual Science, but he even tried in his later years to arrive at an inner understanding of Goethe, that is, to follow the path which I would recommend to those who wish to provide themselves with a sound background for their introduction to Spiritual Science. There are very many today who would like to speak of the spirit once again, who would welcome any and every opportunity to revive knowledge of the spirit. I do not wish to lecture or criticize, least of all a person such as Hermann Bahr for whom I feel great affection. Even if it is far from our intention to sermonize, we none the less have the strange feeling that an outlook such as that of Hermann Bahr has contributed to the corruption of thought and has infected human thinking with original sin.

Now in his Berlin lecture Hermann Bahr expressed many fine and admirable sentiments; but many astonishing things come to light. He began by saying that this war had taught us something completely new. It had taught us to integrate the individual once again into the community in the right way, to sacrifice our individualism, our ego centricity for the benefit of the whole. This war has taught us, he said, to make a clean sweep of the past with its antiquated ideas and to fill our inner life with something completely new. And he proceeded to describe the inestimable benefits this war has brought us. I have no wish to criticize, quite the reverse. But after a lengthy disquisition on how the war has transformed us all, how we shall be completely` changed through the war, it is strange to come upon the concluding passage: “Man always cherishes hope of a better future, but himself remains incorrigible. Even the war will leave us much as we are.” As I said before, I have no wish to criticize, but I cannot help being touched by these high hopes. These people are motivated by the best of intentions; they wish to find once again the path to the spiritual. And Bahr therefore emphasized that we had relied too much upon the individual; we had practised the cult of individualism far too long. We must learn once again to surrender to the whole. Those who belong to a nation have learned to merge with the nation, to sacrifice their separativeness. And nations too, he believes, are only totalities of individual characteristics, parts of a greater whole which will later emerge. Thus Bahr sometimes betrays, and especially in this lecture, the paths he none the less follows in order to arrive at the spirit. Sometimes he gives only vague indications, but these indications are most revealing. Ring out the old, the past is dead, is his motto. The Aufklärung wished to found everything on a basis of reason; but all to no purpose, everything has ended in chaos. We must find something that brings us in touch with Reality and saves us from chaos. And in this context Bahr once again makes astonishing revelations:

“Perhaps nations and individuals would then have learned what is most difficult for them to learn—to grant to others the right to individuality that each individual claims for himself, for, in the final analysis, the individuality of others is the precondition of one's own. If we were all alike there would be no distinguishing features. And they would have learned that just as each individual with his distinctive gifts in his own particular field is necessary to the nation, in order through his self-fulfilment to sustain the nation and thus at the same time to be self-sufficient and also to serve the nation, so too the universality of mankind, the common membership of all mankind that reaches to the Divine grows out of nations and transcends nations.”

That is a hint, if not a broad hint, at least it is a clear hint. People are striving to find the way to God, but are unwilling to follow the path that is appropriate to our time. They are looking therefore for a different path which already exists, but it never occurs to them that this traditional path was indeed effective up to 1914 and now, in order to obviate its consequences, they want to return to it again!

The symptoms manifested here are, I think, deserving of quiet examination, for these are the views not of a single individual, but of a vast number of people who feel and think in this way. A book by Max Scheler 6Max Scheler (1874–1928). Professor of Philosophy at Cologne, 1920–21. His writings have a strong theistic flavour and he was a subtle advocate of Catholicism. recently appeared with the title Der Genius des Krieges and der deutsche Krieg. It is a good book and I can safely recommend it. Bahr too thinks highly of it. He is a man of taste and well informed and has every reason to commend it. But he also wishes to publicize the book and proposes to write a highly favourable review, a puff to boost Scheler. He wonders how best to proceed. To scandalize the public is not the right approach; some other way must be found to attract their attention. What was he to do? Now Hermann Bahr is a very sincere and honest man and leaves no doubt as to what he would do in such a case. In his article on Scheler he begins by saying: Scheler has written many articles to show how we could escape from our present predicament. Scheler caught the public eye. But, says Bahr, people today do not approve of being told whom to read; it goes against the grain. And so Hermann Bahr characterizes Scheler in the following way: “People were curious about him and yet rather suspicious of him; we Germans want to know above all where we stand in relation to an author. We do not like indefinition.”

Let us have therefore a clear picture. This is not achieved by reading books and accepting their arguments; something more is needed. Bahr now gives a further hint: “Even the Catholics preferred to reserve judgement (on Scheler) lest they should be disappointed. His idiom displeased them. For every mental climate creates in the course of time its own native idiom which gives a particular flavour and meaning to words of common usage. In this way one recognizes who `belongs’, with the result that ultimately one pays less attention to what is said than to how it is said.”

Hermann Bahr decided to announce Scheler with a flourish of trumpets. Now, like Bahr himself, Scheler hints at those remarkable catholicizing endeavours—always tentatively at first, he never commits himself immediately. Now according to Bahr, Scheler does not speak like a genuine Catholic. But Catholics want to know where they stand in relation to Scheler, and especially Bahr himself since he intends to puff Scheler in the Catholic periodical “Hochland”. After all, people must know that Scheler can be safely recommended to Catholics. They do not like to be left in the dark, they want to know the truth.

And this is the crux of the matter. People will know where they stand if they are told that it is perfectly safe for Catholics to read Scheler! The fact that he is exceptionally clever and witty is of no consequence; Catholics have no objection to that. Bahr, however, proposes to hold up Scheler as an outstanding personality in order to boost his importance, but at the same time he does not wish to offend people. First of all he bewails the fact that mankind has become empty and vapid, that man has lost all connection with the spirit; but he must find his way back to the spirit once again. I quote a few passages from Hermann Bahr on Scheler which touch upon this subject:

“Reason broke away from the Church and arrogantly assumed that of itself it could understand, determine, order, command, shape and direct life.”

Hermann Bahr lacks the courage to say: reason must now seek contact with the spiritual world. He therefore says: reason must look to the Church once again.

“Reason bloke away from the Church and arrogantly assumed that of itself it could understand, determine, order, command, shape and direct life. It (reason) had scarcely begun to take the first steps in this direction than it took fright and lost confidence in itself. This self-awareness of reason, the consciousness of its boundaries, of the limitations of its own power when bereft of the divine afflatus, began with Kant. He recognized that reason of itself cannot achieve that which by its very nature it is constrained to will; it cannot achieve the goal it has set itself. He called a halt to reason at the very moment where it promised to be fruitful. Kant set boundaries to reason, but his disciples extended these boundaries and each went his own way. Ultimately godless reason had no other choice but to abdicate. It realized finally that it can know nothing. It searched for truth so long until it discovered that either truth was non-existent or that there was no truth to which man could attain.”

Enough has now been said in defence of the modern outlook and all those fine sentiments about the “boundaries of knowledge.”

“Since that time we have lived without truth, believing there is no truth. We continued to live however as if truth must none the less exist. In fact, in order to live we had to live by denying our reason. And so we preferred to abandon reason completely. We committed intellectual suicide. Soon man was regarded simply as a bundle of impulses. He was proud of his dehumanisation. And the consequence was 1914.”

And so Hermann Bahr praises Scheler because of his Catholicizing bent. Then he proceeds to give a somewhat distorted picture of Goethe, for he had been at pains for some time to depict him as a dyed-in-the-wool Catholic. And then goes on to say:

“The modern scientist denied his spiritual birthright. Science abandoned presuppositions. Reason no longer derived from the divine the ‘impulse’ which is imperative for its effectiveness. What other path was open to it? None, save the appeal to the instincts. The man without established values was suspended over an abyss. And the result was—1914.”

“If we are to build afresh it must be from totally new foundations. If we are to bring about a spiritual renewal we must make a complete break with the past. It would be presumptuous to aim at the immediate spiritual rehabilitation of Europe. We must first rehabilitate man and restore his lost innocence; he must become aware once again that he is a member of the spiritual world. Freedom, individuality, dignity, morality, science and art have vanished from the world since faith, hope and love are no more. And only faith, hope and love can restore them. We have no other choice, either the end of the world or—omnia instaurare in Christo” (to renew all things in Christ).

But this “omnia instaurare in Christo” does not imply a search for the spirit, a move towards the investigation or exploration of the spirit, but the inclusion of the nations in the Catholic fold. How is it, Bahr asks, that men are able to think for themselves and yet are able to remain good Catholics? We must look to those who are suited to the present age. And Scheler fits the bill for he is not such a fool as to speak for example of an evolution into the spiritual world, or to specify a particular spiritual teaching. He is not such a fool as to commit himself openly, as is the case with those who speak of the spirit and then suggest: the rest will he added unto you if you enter the Church, i.e. the Catholic Church—for that is implied both by Bahr and Schelerwhich in their opinion is sufficiently all-embracing. In this way conflicting opinions can be reconciled under the umbrella of the Church. None the less people today want to think for themselves and Scheler adapts himself to their thoughts. Indeed, Bahr believes that Scheler in this respect is a master of giving people what they want:

“Scheler attracts attention because he does not gesticulate or raise his voice. Involuntarily people ask who can it be who appears to be so sure of his influence that he does not feel it necessary to raise his voice. It is a favourite device of seasoned orators to open on a quiet note and thus command the silent attention of the audience; the orator must also have the power to hold them spellbound. Scheler can do this in masterly fashion. He so captivates his listener that the listener is unaware whither he is being led and suddenly finds himself at a destination that was wholly unforeseen. Starting from unexpected propositions which the listener innocently accepts, Scheler forces him imperceptibly to conclusions which he would have actively resisted had he been in any way forewarned. In this respect Scheler's art of persuasion is unrivalled. He is a born educator; I know of no one who can lead us so easily but firmly to the truth.”

Indeed it is a special art to be able to take people by surprise in this way. First one makes statements that are unexceptionable; then the argument proceeds slowly and leads to a conclusion at which the audience would have demurred had they been aware of it from the start. How does one account for this, Bahr asks, and what must be done in order to act with the right intentions? In this review of Scheler Bahr gives his honest and candid opinion:

“The question now is whether the average German can grasp the magnitude of the moment and all that it portends. He is animated by the best of intentions, but still fondly imagines that belief is no longer possible for modern man since it has been scientifically refuted. He does not suspect that this `science or dogma of unbelief’ has itself long been refuted scientifically. He knows nothing of the quiet preparatory work in this direction of the outstanding German philosophers of our time—Lotze, Franz Brentano, Dilthey, Eucken, and Husserl.”.7Lotze (1817–81), Dilthey (1833–1911), R. Eucken (1846–1929), Husserl (1859–1938) were philosophers of idealism. They were opposed to the mechanistic scientific philosophy of the age and pleaded the cause of ethical idealism.

I now beg you to give special attention to the following:

“The ordinary person still hears in the last faint echo of the Münchausen posthorn, the latest aberration which, unbeknown to him, has already been refuted. Amidst this confusion a calm clear voice will soon be heard which gives no suspicion of the sentimental day dreaming, romanticism or mysticism which fills the ordinary person with unholy dread. And precisely because Scheler pleads the cause of a recovery of faith straightforwardly and unemotionally and in the customary jargon of the ’cultivated man of our time’, he is the man we need today.”

So now we know! Now we know why Bahr approves of Scheler. He (Scheler) cannot be accused of being a visionary or a mystic, for the average German is mortally afraid of them. And woe betide anyone who does not respect this fear, for if he were take it into his head to banish this fear or recognize the need to struggle against it, it would need more than a little courage to venture on such an undertaking.

Because I have great respect and affection for Hermann Bahr I would like to show that he is typical of those who find great difficulty in accepting a spiritual teaching of which our time stands in need. But there is promise of hope only if we overcome that terrible fear, if we have the courage to acknowledge that Spiritual Science is not an idle fancy, that the greatest clarity of thought is called for if we wish to make the right approach to Spiritual Science, for there is little evidence of clear thinking in the few examples which I have quoted to you today from Hermann Bahr and other contemporary writers. Spiritual courage is called for if we wish to develop ideas that are strong and effective. We need not go all the way with Nietzsche, nor need we wholly share the view he expresses in a passage which none the less may attract our attention; but when this sensitive spirit, stimulated perhaps by his illness, expresses his boldest and most courageous opinions we must nevertheless go along with him. The fear of being misunderstood must not deter us. It would he the greatest calamity that could befall us today if we were to be afraid of being misunderstood. We must sometimes perhaps pass judgements like the following judgement of Nietzsche, even though it may not be sound in every detail; that is not important. In his treatise “On the History of Christianity” he wrote:

“Christianity as a historical reality must not be confused with that one root which its name recalls: the other roots from which it has sprung are by far the more important. It is an unprecedented abuse of language to associate such manifestations of decay and such monstrosities as the ‘Christian Church’, ‘Christian belief’ and ‘Christian life’ with that Holy Name. What did Christ deny?—Everything which today is called Christian!”

Although this is perhaps an extreme view, Nietzsche nevertheless touched upon something which has a certain truth; but he expressed it somewhat radically. It is true to the extent that one could say: What would Christ most vigorously condemn if He were to appear in our midst today? Most probably what the majority of people call “Christian” today, and much else besides, which I will discuss in our lecture on Tuesday next.

Sechzehnter Vortrag

Wir haben zum Teil in diesen Betrachtungen Ältestes, älteste Ereignisse der abendländischen Kulturentwickelung besprochen. Aber Sie haben gesehen, wir haben das immer getan, um aus den Gedanken, die uns aus diesen Betrachtungen über Ältestes aufsprießen können, dasjenige zu finden, was in der Gegenwart vorzustellen notwendig ist. Und in dieser Absicht werden auch des ferneren hier diese Betrachtungen von mir angestellt.

Es ist eine Zeit, diese Zeit der Gegenwart, der man es ja auch schon oberflächlich ansehen kann, daß nur Gedanken in ihr Durchschlagskraft haben können, welche aus den Geheimnissen der Menschheitsentwickelung heraus genommen worden sind. Man muß allerdings dann, um die ganze Tragweite einer solchen Behauptung zu empfinden, in bezug auf manches recht klar, aber auch bis zu einem gewissen Grade tief in die Bedürfnisse und in die Mängel des gegenwärtigen Denkens, Empfindens und Wollens hineinschauen. Gerade daraus wird man dann die Notwendigkeit hervorgehend empfinden, daß unsere Gegenwart neue Einschläge, neue Gedanken, neue Ideen braucht, und zwar gerade solche Einschläge, solche Gedanken, welche aus den Tiefen des geistigen Lebens, die Gegenstand der Geisteswissenschaft sein sollen, heraus kommen.

Sehen Sie, auf manches in der Gegenwart muß man wirklich mit einer gewissen Betrübnis hinsehen, wenn auch diese Betrübnis niemals etwas sein soll, was niedergeschlagen macht, sondern im Gegenteil etwas sein soll, das gerade zur Arbeit, zum Streben in der Gegenwart geeignet und reif machen kann. In diesen Wochen ist ein Buch erschienen, und, ich möchte sagen, als mir dieses Buch in die Hand kam, hatte ich das Gefühl, daß ich mich am allerliebsten über dieses Buch freuen möchte, recht freuen möchte. Denn es ist geschrieben von einem Mann, der zu den, man darf sagen, wenigen gehört, die interessiert werden konnten für unsere geisteswissenschaftlichen Bestrebungen, und bei dem man wünschen möchte, daß er in sein eigenes geistiges Schaffen einfließen lassen könnte dasjenige, was aus den geisteswissenschaftlichen Bestrebungen heraus kommt. Ich meine das Buch: «Der Staat als Lebensform» von Rudolf Kjellén, dem schwedischen Nationalökonomen und Staatsforscher. Als ich das Buch gelesen hatte, kann ich sagen, empfand ich Wehmut, weil ich gerade an einem Geiste, der, wie gesagt, interessiert werden konnte für die geisteswissenschaftlichen Bestrebungen, sehen konnte, wie weit entfernt seine Gedanken noch sind von denjenigen Gedanken, die der Gegenwart vor allen Dingen not tun würden, die in der Gegenwart vor allen Dingen Gestalt gewinnen müssen, damit sie einschlagen können in den Entwickelungsgang dieser Gegenwart. Kjellén versucht den Staat zu studieren, und man bekommt das Gefühl, daß er nirgends über Vorstellungen, über Ideen verfügt, welche ihn in die Lage versetzen, nun wirklich auch nur im allerentferntesten seine Aufgabe zu lösen, ja, der Lösung dieser Aufgabe auch nur irgendwie nahezukommen. Es ist schon ein betrübendes Gefühl das ja, wie gesagt, nicht niedergeschlagen machen darf, sondern im Gegenteil die Kräfte stählen soll, wenn man sich in Wahrheit der Zeit gegenüberstellen muß -, es ist ein betrübendes Gefühl, gewissermaßen immer wieder und wiederum solche Entdeckungen machen zu müssen.

Bevor ich nun aber einiges gerade über diese Erscheinungen sage, möchte ich Ihren Blick wiederum zunächst auf Ältestes lenken, auf dasjenige Älteste, das ja, wie Sie sich leicht vorstellen können aus den Angaben, die ich Ihnen letzthin über das zerstörende Element in der christlichen Kulturentwickelung geltend gemacht habe, für die äußere Geschichte nur sehr getrübt sich der Gegenwart zeigen kann, das daher um so mehr durch die Geisteswissenschaft zum Verständnis der Gegenwart gebracht werden muß. Ich habe ja das letzte Mal erwähnt, mit welch ungeheurer Wut das sich in den ersten Jahrhunderten ausbreitende Christentum die alten Kunstdenkmäler zerstört hat, gewissermaßen wieviel dieses sich ausbreitende Christentum wegrasiert hat von dem Erdendasein. Man kann, glaube ich, nicht unbefangen sich heute dem Christentum gegenüberstellen, wenn man nicht auch diese andere Seite der Sache in voller Objektivität anzuschauen vermag. Allein betrachten Sie im Zusammenhang damit etwas anderes noch, betrachten Sie die Tatsache, daß Sie ja heute aus den verschiedenen Büchern, die es über diesen Gegenstand gibt, ein Bild bekommen. Jeder Mensch, der nur einige Schulbildung hat, bekommt ein Bild von der geistigen Entwickelung des Altertums, von der geistigen Entwickelung, die dem Christentum vorausgegangen ist. Aber denken Sie einmal nach, wie anders dieses Bild wäre, das heute jeder Mensch bekommt, wenn der Erzbischof Theophilos von Alexandrien im Jahre 391 nicht siebenmal hunderttausend Rollen verbrannt hätte mit den allerwichtigsten Kulturdokumenten über römische, über ägyptische, über indische, über griechische Literatur und deren Geistesleben! Also stellen Sie sich nur einmal vor, was anders heute in den Büchern stehen würde, wenn diese siebenhunderttausend Rollen im Jahre 391 nicht verbrannt worden wären! Und daraus werden Sie doch sich ein Bild machen können, was eigentlich Geschichte der Vergangenheit, wenn sie sich nur auf Dokumente stützt, ist, beziehungsweise was sie nicht ist.

Nun, fußen wir auf den Gedankengängen, die ich das letztemal hier angeschlagen habe. Seien wir uns klar darüber, daß in vieler Beziehung gerade das Kultusleben des Christentums, wie wir gesehen haben, seine Anregungen, seine Impulse empfangen hat aus den alten Mysteriensymbolen, Mysterienkulten; daß es aber auf der anderen Seite dafür gesorgt hat, daß diese Mysterienkulte, diese Mysteriensymbole in ihrer Gestaltung gründlich ausgerottet worden sind für die äußere Forschung. Das Christentum hat gewissermaßen Tabula rasa gemacht, damit man nicht wissen könne, was vorausgegangen ist, damit man sich nur hingebe demjenigen, was dieses Christentum selbst bietet. Ja, so geht eben der Gang der menschheitlichen Entwickelung; und man muß sich, ohne von pessimistischen Anwandlungen gepeinigt zu sein, darauf einlassen, nicht anzuerkennen, daß der Gang der menschheitlichen Entwickelung so ein gerader Fortschritt sei.

Ich habe schon das letztemal darauf aufmerksam gemacht, daß vieles, was in die Kulte eingeflossen ist, zurückführt auf der einen Seite auf die Eleusinien, die aber in ihrer Entwickelung abgebrochen worden sind, weil, wie wir gesehen haben, Julian der Apostat nicht zu seinem Rechte, nicht zur Ausbildung seiner Absicht gekommen ist; aber noch mehr ist in dasjenige, was in der folgenden Zeit dann spielte, eingeflossen von den Mithras-Mysterien. Aber gerade dasjenige, was der Geist der Mithras-Mysterien war, was ihnen ihre Berechtigung gab, woraus sie ihren eigentlichen Inhalt, ihren geistigen Inhalt schöpften, das ist für die äußere Forschung deshalb verlorengegangen, weil man eben die Spuren zu verwischen wußte. Das kann also in seiner wahren Gestalt nur wiederum gefunden werden, wenn man aus der geisteswissenschaftlichen Forschung versucht, Vorstellungen über die entsprechenden Dinge zu gewinnen. Ich will heute nur eine Seite gerade der Mithras-Mysterien Ihnen vor die Seele führen. Es wäre natürlich viel, viel mehr und weiteres zu sagen über diese Mithras-Mysterien, als ich heute sagen kann, aber man muß ja die Dinge kennenlernen dadurch, daß man sich nach und nach mit ihren Einzelheiten bekannt macht.

Wenn man die Mithras-Mysterien, die auch noch in den ersten Jahrhunderten der Ausbreitung des Christentums bis tief selbst nach Westeuropa hinein eine große Rolle spielten, in ihrem eigentlichen Geiste begreifen will, dann muß man wissen, daß sie aufgebaut waren ganz auf der Grundanschauung, welche berechtigt war in der alten Welt; bis zum Mysterium von Golgatha völlig berechtigt war in dieser alten Welt. Sie bauten auf, diese Mithras-Mysterien, auf der Grundanschauung, daß die menschliche Gemeinschaft, oder daß die einzelnen menschlichen Gemeinschaften, zum Beispiel Völkergemeinschaften oder andere Gemeinschaften innerhalb der Völkergemeinschaften, nicht bloß aus den einzelnen Atomen, die man Menschen nennen kann, bestehen, sondern daß in den Gemeinschaften ein Gruppengeist, ein Gemeinsamkeitsgeist, der aber übersinnliches Dasein hat, lebt und leben muß, wenn die Dinge überhaupt in der Realität wurzeln sollen. Eine Gemeinschaft aus so und so vielen Köpfen war nicht bloß die Zahl, welche diese Köpfe angab, sondern eine Gemeinschaft drückte aus für diese alten Leute die äußere Ausgestaltung, ich möchte sagen die Inkarnation, wenn ich den Ausdruck dabei gebrauchen darf, für den wirklich vorhandenen gemeinsamen Geist. Und leben mit diesem Geiste, mitmachen die Gedanken dieses Gruppengeistes, das war die Absicht derjenigen, die in diese Mysterien aufgenommen wurden. Nicht vereinzelter Mensch bleiben draußen mit seinen eigenen eigensinnigen, egoistischen Gedanken und Empfindungen und Willensimpulsen, sondern so leben, daß die Gedanken des Gruppengeistes in einen hineinspielen, das war die Absicht. Und gerade in den Mithras-Mysterien sagte man sich: Erreicht werden kann das nicht, wenn man eine menschliche größere Gemeinschaft nur ansieht als dasjenige, was gegenwärtig da ist. Durch das, was gegenwärtig da ist, wird eigentlich im wesentlichen dasjenige getrübt, was im Gemeinsamkeitsgeiste lebt. Zu dem Gegenwärtigen — sagte man sich — gehören die Verstorbenen hinzu, und man lebt um so besser, um so richtiger in der Gegenwart, je mehr man auch mit denen leben kann, welche längst verstorben sind. Ja, je länger die Betreffenden verstorben waren, desto besser fand man es, mit ihrem Geiste zu leben. Am besten fand man es, mit dem Geiste des Urvaters eines Stammes, einer Volksgemeinschaft, eines Geschlechtes leben zu können, indem man sich mit seiner Seele in Verbindung setzte. Denn man setzte voraus von seiner Seele, daß sie ja ihre Weiterentwickelung erlangt, wenn sie durch die Pforte des Todes geschritten ist, und daß sie Besseres weiß über das, was hier auf der Erde zu geschehen hat, als diejenigen, die unmittelbar auf dieser Erde im gegenwärtigen Leibe leben. So war alles Bestreben in diesen Mysterien, solche Verrichtungen, solche Kulte anzustellen, die den Zögling in Verbindung bringen konnten mit den Geistern, die mehr oder weniger lange, ja sehr lange durch des Todes Pforte gegangen waren.

Eine erste Stufe, die durchzumachen hatten diejenigen, die zu diesen Mysterien zugezogen waren, bezeichnete man gewöhnlich mit einem Ausdruck, der aus dem Vogelgeschlecht entnommen war: die «Raben» sagte man zum Beispiel. Ein Rabe war ein, sagen wir, im ersten Grade Eingeweihter. Dasjenige, was man in ihm durch die besonderen Mysterienkulte, durch stark wirkende Symbole und namentlich durch künstlerisch-dramatische Veranstaltungen erreichte, bestand darin, daß der Betreffende nun wissen lernte nicht nur, was man durch seine Augen sieht in der Umgebung, oder was man von den gegenwärtigen Menschen erfährt, sondern was die Toten denken. Er bekam gewissermaßen eine Art Erinnerungsvermögen an die Toten und die Fähigkeit, dieses Erinnerungsvermögen auszubilden. Ein solcher Rabe hatte eine Pflicht. Es wurde ihm streng zur Pflicht gemacht, nicht zu schlafen, indem er in der Gegenwart lebte, sondern die Gegenwart mit offenen, klaren Augen zu betrachten, sich bekanntzumachen mit den menschlichen Bedürfnissen, sich bekanntzumachen mit den Naturerscheinungen. Jemand, der das Dasein verschläft, der keinen Sinn hat für das, was im Menschen und in der Natur lebt, den betrachtete man als nicht geeignet, in die Mysterien aufgenommen zu werden. Denn nur eine richtige Beobachtung im Leben draußen machte ihn geeignet zu der Aufgabe, die er in den Mysterien zu erfüllen hatte. Die Aufgabe bestand darin, daß er so viel als möglich versuchte, in die verschiedenen Lebenslagen der äußeren Welt hineinzukommen, um recht, recht viel zu erleben, recht viel mitzuleiden und sich mitzufreuen mit den Ereignissen, mit den Vorgängen der Gegenwart. Einen Stumpfling gegenüber den Ereignissen der Gegenwart konnte man nicht brauchen. Denn das, was er innerhalb des Mysteriums zunächst zu leisten hatte, bestand darin, daß er die Erfahrungen, die er draußen machte, in den Mysterien reproduzierte, in den Mysterien vorbrachte. Dadurch, daß er also diese Erfahrungen in den Mysterien vorbrachte, wurden sie zu Mitteilungen für die Verstorbenen, für diejenigen, deren Rat man suchte. Sie könnten nun fragen: Wäre dazu nicht ein höher Graduierter noch geeigneter? Nein, gerade die Erstgraduierten waren dazu besonders geeignet, aus dem Grunde, weil die Erstgraduierten doch alle Empfindungen, alle Sympathien und Antipathien hatten, mit denen sich so recht hineinleben läßt in die äußere Welt, während die höher Graduierten sie mehr oder weniger abgestreift hatten. Daher waren sie besonders geeignet, diese Erstgraduierten, das Leben der Gegenwart so zu erleben, wie es eben ein gewöhnlicher Mensch erlebt, und es hineinzutragen in die Mysterien. Das war also ihre besondere Aufgabe, daß die Raben die Vermittelung zwischen der Außenwelt und den längst Verstorbenen übernahmen. Das hat sich ja in der Sage forterhalten. Sagen beruhen ja in der Regel, wie öfter auseinandergesetzt, auf tiefen Grundlagen. Und wenn die Sage behauptet, daß Friedrich Barbarossa, der längst Verstorbene, in seinem Berge von Raben unterrichtet wird, oder daß Karl der Große im Salzburger Untersberg unterrichtet wird von Raben, um ihm zu übermitteln dasjenige, was draußen vorgeht, so sind das Nachklänge an die alten Mysterien, gerade an die Mithras-Mysterien.

War dann einer reif für den zweiten Grad, dann wurde er im eigentlichen Sinne ein «Okkulter»; Geheimschüler, Okkultist, so würden wir es heute nennen, wurde er dann. Dadurch wurde er dann fähig, nicht nur das Äußerliche in die Mysterien hineinzutragen, sondern auch nun zu hören - auf die Weise, wie man eben die Mitteilungen empfing von den Verstorbenen -, zu hören die Mitteilungen von seiten der Verstorbenen —, über gewissermaßen die Impulse, welche die übersinnliche Welt, diese konkrete übersinnliche Welt, in der die Verstorbenen sind, für die Außenwelt zu geben hatte. Und erst, wenn er dadurch gewissermaßen eingegliedert war in das ganze geistige Leben, das vom Übersinnlichen her mit dem Äußeren, Sinnlichen in Zusammenhang steht, dann wurde er für den dritten Grad reif befunden, und es war ihm die Möglichkeit gegeben, in der äußeren Welt nun auch anzuwenden dasjenige, was er an Impulsen in den Mysterien drinnen erhalten hatte. Er wurde nun ausersehen, gewissermaßen ein »Kämpfer» zu werden für dasjenige, was aus der übersinnlichen Welt für die sinnliche geoffenbart werden muß,

Sie könnten nun fragen: Ja, war es nicht eine tiefe Ungerechtigkeit, die ganze Masse des Volkes gewissermaßen in Unwissenheit zu lassen über die wichtigsten Dinge und nur Einzelne einzuweihen? — Darüber aber, was da dahinter liegt, gewinnen Sie nur ein richtiges Verständnis, wenn Sie eben das voraussetzen, was ich von vorneherein gesagt habe, daß man mit einem Gruppengeist, mit einer Gruppenseele rechnete. Es genügte eben, wenn die Einzelnen für die ganze Gruppe der Menschen wirkten. Man fühlte sich nicht als Einzelner, sondern man fühlte sich als Glied der Gruppe. Deshalb war es nur möglich, so zu handeln in der Zeit, in der die Gruppenbeseelung, das unegoistische Sich-Drinnenfühlen in der Gruppe ganz lebendig war.

Und dann, wenn man eine Zeitlang also gewissermaßen ein Kämpfer war für die übersinnliche Welt, dann wurde man für geeignet befunden, innerhalb der großen Gruppe kleinere Gruppen selber zu begründen, kleinere Gemeinschaften, wie sie sich ja als notwendig ergeben innerhalb großer Gruppen. Man gab in jenen alten Zeiten nichts darauf, wenn irgendeiner einfach aufgestanden wäre und wie heute einen Verein hätte begründen wollen. Solch ein Verein wäre nichts gewesen. Um eine solche Vereinigung, einen solchen Verein zu begründen, mußte man in den Mithras-Mysterien, wie man sagte, ein «Löwe» sein, denn das war der vierte Grad der Einweihung. Man mußte in sich selbst befestigt haben das Leben in den übersinnlichen Welten durch den Zusammenhang mit jenen Impulsen, welche nicht nur unter den Lebenden waren, sondern welche die Lebenden mit den Toten verbanden.

Von diesem vierten Grad stieg man dann auf dazu, eine schon vorhandene Gruppe, der auch die Toten angehörten, eine Volksgemeinschaft führen zu dürfen durch irgendwelche Maßnahmen. Wenn man ins achte, neunte, zehnte Jahrhundert vor dem Mysterium von Golgatha zurückgeht, so sind das ganz andere Zeiten als heute. Da wäre es niemandem eingefallen zu beanspruchen, daß man wählen solle denjenigen, der irgend etwas zu tun hat, sondern da mußte derjenige, der irgend etwas mit der Gemeinschaft zu tun hatte, eben eingeweiht sein bis zum fünften Grad. Und dann ging es weiter bis zu jenen Erkenntnissen, welche das ja neulich angedeutete Sonnen-Mysterium selber in die menschliche Seele hineinlegte; und dann bis zum siebenten Grad. Diese brauche ich nicht weiter auszuführen, denn ich möchte ja nur den Charakter des Entwickelungsganges eines solchen Menschen anführen, welcher sich aus der geistigen Welt heraus die Fähigkeit erwerben sollte, draußen in der Gemeinschaft zu wirken.

Nun wissen Sie aber, daß es in der selbstverständlich notwendigen Entwickelung des Menschengeschlechtes liegt, daß die Gruppenseelenhaftigkeit allmählich zurückgetreten ist. Das ist es ja, was wesentlich gleichzeitig mit der Tatsache des Mysteriums von Golgatha war: daß die Menschenseelen von ihrem Ich bewußt ergriffen worden sind. Das hat sich vorbereitet jahrhundertelang, aber zur Zeit des Mysteriums von Golgatha war ein Höhepunkt, eine Krisis auf diesem Gebiete. Man konnte nicht mehr die Voraussetzung machen, daß gewissermaßen der Einzelne die Kraft habe, die ganze Gemeinschaft wirklich mit sich zu reißen, seine Empfindungen, seine Impulse unegoistisch auf die ganze Gemeinschaft zu übertragen.

Es wäre töricht, zu glauben, daß die Geschichte hätte anders verlaufen sollen, als sie verlaufen ist. Aber manchmal kann man durch einen solchen Gedanken befruchtet werden wie den, was doch geschehen wäre, wenn nun in der Zeit, in der das Christentum anfing, seine Aufgabe in die Menschheitsentwickelung einzuführen, nicht alles mit Stumpf und Stiel ausgerottet worden wäre, sondern wenn geschichtlich ein gewisses Wissen, das auch für diejenigen durchsichtig wäre, die nur an Dokumente glauben, in die Nachwelt herein sich fortgepflanzt hätte. Aber das wollte das Christentum nicht. Wir werden über die Gründe, warum es das nicht wollte, noch sprechen; aber heute wollen wir uns zunächst nur mit dieser Tatsache bekannt machen, daß dies das Christentum nicht wollte. Es stand ja auch dieses Christentum einer ganz anderen Menschheit gegenüber, einer Menschheit, welche nicht mehr so, wie die Menschheit früher, zu den alten Gruppengeistern stand; eine Menschheit, bei der man sich dem Einzelnen gegenüber in ganz anderer Weise zu stellen hat als in alten Zeiten, wo man den Einzelnen gar nicht besonders berücksichtigte, sondern zum Gruppengeist sich wendete und vom Gruppengeiste aus wirkte. Jedenfalls hat das Christentum dadurch, daß es gewissermaßen für die äußere Welt alles Dokumentarische dieser alten Zeit ausgelöscht hat, eine gewisse Dunkelheit gelassen, Dunkelheit sogar geschaffen, für dasjenige Zeitalter, in das zunächst die Entwickelung des Christentums hineinfiel. Das Christentum hat dasjenige, was es hat brauchen können, in seine Traditionen, in seine Dogmen, aber namentlich in seinen Kult hineingenommen, und dann den Ursprung dieser Kulte verwischt. In den Kulten liegt ungeheuer viel drinnen; aber alles ist umgedeutet worden, alles ist anders aufgefaßt worden. Die Dinge waren da, die Dinge traten den Leuten noch vor Augen, aber die Leute sollten nicht wissen, an welche Urweisheit die Dinge anknüpfen.

Denken Sie an eine solche Tatsache: Man kennt die Bischofsmütze, die Bischofsmütze aus dem achten Jahrhundert. Diese Bischofsmütze aus dem achten Jahrhundert hat lauter Zeichen; aber alle diese Zeichen sind eigentlich gleich, nur verschieden angeordnet, und alle diese Zeichen sind Swastiken. Die Swastika ist in mannigfaltiger Anordnung auf dieser Bischofsmütze. Dieses uralte Henkelkreuz in vielfacher Gestaltung auf der Bischofsmütze! Die Swastika führt uns zurück in die Urzeiten der Mysterien, führt zurück auf alte Zeiten, in denen man beobachten konnte, wie im menschlichen ätherischen und astralischen Organismus die Lotosblumen wirken; wie überhaupt dasjenige, was in den sogenannten Lotosblumen lebt, zu den Grunderscheinungen des Ätherischen und Astralischen gehört. Aber es war ein totes Zeichen geworden. Der Bischof trug es als Zeichen seiner Macht. Es war ein totes Zeichen geworden, man hatte den Ursprung verwischt. Und was man heute in der Kulturgeschichte über den Ursprung solcher Dinge mitteilt, das ist auch noch nichts Lebendiges, wahrhaftig nichts Lebendiges. Erst durch die Geisteswissenschaft kann man wiederum das Lebendige für diese Dinge ins geistige Auge fassen.

Nun sagte ich: Gewissermaßen Dunkelheit wurde geschaffen. Aber aus dieser Dunkelheit muß wieder aufgetaucht werden. Und ich denke, ich habe im Laufe der Zeit schon mannigfaltig und genug gesagt, um verständlich zu machen, daß in unserer Zeit es ganz besonders notwendig ist, Ohren zu haben für diese Dinge, um zu hören, und Augen für diese Dinge zu haben, um zu sehen. Denn unsere Zeit ist eine Zeit, in welcher die notwendige Dunkelheit ihr Genügendes geleistet hat, und in welcher das Licht wiederum einschlagen muß, das Licht des geistigen Lebens. Zunächst möchte man wünschen, daß recht viele Seelen, recht viele Herzen, im allerernstesten, im aller-allerernstesten Sinne fühlen würden, daß dies unserer Zeit notwendig ist, und daß dasjenige, was unserer Zeit abgeht, was in unserer Zeit unendliches Leid hervorruft, mit all diesen Dingen zusammenhängt. Es wird sich schon zeigen, daß es nicht genügt, die Dinge nur an der Oberfläche zu betrachten; daß es nicht genügt, über die Ursachen des heutigen Geschehens nur von den Dingen aus zu sprechen, die an der Oberfläche liegen. Denn solange man nur sprechen wird von Dingen aus, die an der Oberfläche liegen, so lange wird man nicht Gedanken finden, wird man nicht Impulse haben können, die die Durchschlagskraft haben, um aus der Dunkelheit, die doch die Veranlassung zu allem anderen ist, was heute geschieht, herauszukommen.

Es ist ja merkwürdig, wie in unserer Zeit die Menschen — aber das braucht wiederum nicht niedergeschlagen zu machen, einen auch nicht zum Kritiker zu machen, sondern bloß zum notwendigen Beobachter und Ausleger dessen, was heute geschieht -, es ist merkwürdig, wie in unserer Zeit die Menschen doch nicht heranwollen, weil sie meistens noch nicht herankönnen an dasjenige, was eigentlich not tut zu sehen, zu schauen in der Entwickelung. Ich möchte sagen, herzzerbrechend ist es ja gerade zu sehen, wie ein Geist, der bis zur schlimmsten Erkrankung stark an den Wirrnissen und Verwirrungen der zweiten Hälfte des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts gelitten hat, wie der empfunden hat über dasjenige, was in der Finsternis, in der Wirrnis der Zeit lebt. Man wird mit einem solchen Geiste, wie Friedrich Nietzsche war, nicht fertig, wenn man auf der einen Seite ihn bloß enthusiastisch für jemanden hält, dem man nachläuft, wie es so viele gemacht haben. Denn solchen Nachläufern hielt er seinen eigenen Ausspruch entgegen:

Ich wohne in meinem eignen Haus,
Hab niemandem nie nichts nachgemacht,
Und - lachte noch jeden Meister aus,
Der nicht sich selber ausgelacht.

Das ist auch die Grundstimmung des ganzen «Zarathustra» Nietzsches. Aber das hat nicht gehindert, daß es doch viele bloße Nachläufer gegeben hat. Das ist das eine Extrem. Dieses eine Extrem ist jedenfalls nicht dasjenige, was fruchtbar ist für die Gegenwart. Aber auch das andere Extrem ist sicher nicht fruchtbar, das darin etwa bestehen könnte — zwischen diesen beiden Extremen liegen ja alle möglichen anderen Stimmungen -, daß man sagt: Ja, er hat ja manches recht Geniale gesagt; aber er ist schließlich ein Narr geworden, närrisch geworden, und man braucht nichts auf ihn zu geben. - Er ist schon eine eigentümliche Erscheinung, dieser Friedrich Nietzsche, dem man sich gewiß nicht einfach zu ergeben braucht, aber der selbst noch in den Jahren seiner Erkrankung mit feiner Sensitivität empfunden hat, was in der Gegenwart für Dunkelheit und Wirrnis vorhanden ist. Und man möchte sagen, daß insbesondere für die gegenwärtigen Tage man sich vielleicht einen ganz guten Hintergrund der Betrachtung schaffen könnte dadurch, daß man einiges von den Mitteilungen über das Leid, das ihm aus dieser Gegenwart wurde, von Nietzsche entgegennimmt. Ich will Ihnen zwei Stellen aus Nietzsches nachgelassenen Schriften: «Versuch einer Umwertung aller Werte» lesen, die damals geschrieben wurden von einem kranken Geiste, die aber vielleicht auch geschrieben werden könnten in ganz anderer Absicht, als sie Nietzsche geschrieben hat, unmittelbar heute, und geschrieben werden könnten so, daß man gerade damit tiefere Ursachen der Gegenwartswirkungen ausdrücken wollte. Da sagt Nietzsche:

«Was ich erzähle, ist die Geschichte der nächsten zwei Jahrhunderte. Ich beschreibe, was kommt, was nicht mehr anders kommen kann: die Heraufkunft des Nihilismus. Diese Geschichte kann jetzt schon erzählt werden: denn die Notwendigkeit selbst ist hier am Werke. Diese Zukunft redet schon in hundert Zeichen, dieses Schicksal kündigt überall sich an; für diese Musik der Zukunft sind alle Ohren bereits gespitzt. Unsere ganze europäische Kultur bewegt sich seit langem schon mit einer Tortur der Spannung, die von Jahrzehnt zu Jahrzehnt wächst, wie auf eine Katastrophe los: unruhig, gewaltsam, überstürzt: einem Strom ähnlich, der ans Ende will, der sich nicht mehr besinnt, der Furcht davor hat, sich zu besinnen.»

Ermessen Sie mancherlei, was Sie in der Gegenwart empfinden können, an diesen Worten eines sensitiven Menschen, die am Ende der achtziger Jahre des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts niedergeschrieben sind, halten Sie sie zusammen mit einer anderen Stelle, die ich Ihnen vorlesen will, und die einem wirklich lebendig machen kann Tiefstes, das jeder von uns selber erleben könnte.

«Meine Freunde, wir haben es hart gehabt, als wir jung waren: wir haben an der Jugend selber gelitten wie an einer schweren Krankheit. Das macht die Zeit, in die wir geworfen sind - die Zeit eines großen inneren Verfalles und Auseinanderfalles, welche mit allen ihren Schwächen und noch mit ihrer besten Stärke dem Geiste der Jugend entgegenwirkt. Das Auseinanderfallen, also die Ungewißheit, ist dieser Zeit eigen: nichts steht auf festen Füßen und hartem Glauben an sich: man lebt für morgen, denn das Übermorgen ist zweifelhaft. Es ist alles glatt und gefährlich auf unserer Bahn, und dabei ist das Eis, das uns noch trägt, so dünn geworden: wir fühlen alle den warmen unheimlichen Atem des Tauwindes - wo wir noch gehen, da wird bald niemand mehr gehen können!»

Man kann durchaus nicht sagen, daß diese Dinge nicht tief aus der Wirklichkeit der Gegenwart heraus empfunden sind. Wer diese Gegenwart verstehen will, und namentlich das verstehen will, was der Einzelne sich als Aufgabe setzen kann, wer nur über den Alltag hinaus denken will, der wird eben ähnlich empfinden, wie es in diesen Stellen ausgedrückt ist, und er wird dann vielleicht sagen: Der Nietzsche war zwar verhindert, als schon Krankheit seinen Geist umnachtete, sich so recht kritisch zu stellen zu dem, was ihm aufstieg an Ideen; aber was ihm aufstieg an Ideen, war wirklich oftmals fein aus der unmittelbaren Wirklichkeit der Gegenwart heraus empfunden. Vielleicht wird man einmal vergleichen mit solcher Empfindung der Gegenwart alles dasjenige, was sonst uns entgegentritt aus den «erleuchteten Köpfen», was nicht einmal das alleroberste Wellenkräuseln der Ursachen, die der heutigen schweren Zeit zugrunde liegen, berührt. Dann wird man andere Ansichten bekommen über die Notwendigkeit, Geisteswissenschaft gerade in unserer Zeit zu hören. Denn daß man sie gerne hört heute, das ist nicht der Fall. Und indem ich davon spreche, wie wenig man sie gerne hört, diese Geisteswissenschaft, will ich nichts Tadelndes aussprechen. Wie gesagt, ich bin ganz weit entfernt, den einen oder anderen zu tadeln. Diejenigen, von denen ich spreche, sind zumeist solche Leute, die ich gerade außerordentlich schätze, und bei denen ich am allerehesten glauben würde, daß sie zugänglich sein könnten für die Geisteswissenschaft. Nur das will ich begreiflich machen, wie schwierig es dem Einzelnen wird, seine Seele dieser Geisteswissenschaft zugänglich zu machen, wenn er ganz drinnensteckt in dem, was man eben in seiner Seele erreichen kann, wenn man sich so ganz dem Strom der Gegenwart, diesem oberflächlichen Strom der Gegenwart auf allen Gebieten überläßt. Das muß man so recht fühlen.

Und jetzt bin ich so weit, daß ich mit ein paar Worten zurückkommen kann auf Kjelléns Buch über den «Staat als Lebensform». Dieses Buch ist ganz merkwürdig; schon aus dem Grunde merkwürdig, weil sein Verfasser wirklich mit allen Fasern seiner Seele danach strebt, sich klar zu werden: Was ist denn das eigentlich, der Staat? — und weil er nun gar kein Vertrauen hat zum menschlichen Vorstellungs- und Ideenvermögen, um irgend etwas auszumachen über die Frage, über das Problem: Was ist denn das eigentlich, der Staat? - Gewiß, er sagt allerlei schöne Dinge, die, wie ich gesehen habe, von den Kritikern der Gegenwart durchaus bewundert werden; er sagt allerlei schöne Dinge, aber dasjenige, was gewußt werden muß, zum Heil der Menschheit gewußt werden muß, das ahnt er gar nicht einmal. Sehen Sie, ich kann Ihnen nur einen hauptsächlichsten Gesichtspunkt anführen. Zunächst einmal frägt sich dieser Kjellén: Ja, wie ist das Verhältnis des einzelnen Menschen zum Staat? — Und indem er sich eine Idee, eine Vorstellung über diese Frage bilden will, da kommt ihm sogleich etwas in die Quere. Er will ja den Staat als etwas Reales, als etwas Ganzes vorstellen, als etwas, man möchte sagen, das etwas Lebendiges ist; also sagen wir als einen Organismus, zunächst als einen Organismus. Manche haben schon den Staat als einen Organismus vorgestellt, dann tappen sie immer herum um die Frage, die dann sogleich auftaucht: Ja, ein Organismus besteht aus Zellen; was sind nun die Zellen dieses Staates? Das sind die einzelnen Menschen! — Und so ungefähr denkt auch Kjellén: Der Staat ist ein Organismus, so wie der menschliche Organismus oder der tierische Organismus ein Organismus ist, und wie der menschliche Organismus nun aus einzelnen Zellen besteht, so eben der Staat auch aus einzelnen Zellen, aus Menschen; die sind seine Zellen.

Man kann keine verkehrtere, keine schlimmere, keine irreführendere Analogie überhaupt aufstellen! Denn wenn man auf diese Analogie einen Gedankengang aufbaut, dann kann der Mensch niemals zu seinem Rechte kommen. Niemals! Denn warum? Sehen Sie, die Zellen, die im menschlichen Organismus sind, grenzen aneinander, und gerade in diesem Aneinandergrenzen liegt etwas Besonderes. Die ganze Organisation des menschlichen Organismus hängt mit diesem Aneinandergrenzen zusammen. Die Menschen im Staate grenzen nicht so aneinander wie die einzelnen Zellen. Es ist gar keine Rede davon. Die menschliche Persönlichkeit ist weit davon entfernt, im Ganzen des Staates so etwas zu sein, wie die Zellen im Organismus. Und wenn man zur Not den Staat mit einem Organismus vergleicht, so muß man sich klar sein darüber, daß man ganz gewiß ganz furchtbar danebenhaut, mit aller Staatswissenschaft furchtbar danebenhaut, wenn man übersieht, daß der einzelne Mensch keine Zelle ist, sondern das nur ist, was den Staat tragen kann, das Produktive selber ist, während die Zellen zusammen den Organismus bilden und in ihrer Gesamtheit dasjenige ausmachen, worauf es ankommt. Deshalb kann der heutige Staat, wo der Gruppengeist nicht mehr so ist wie in alten Zeiten, niemals so sein, daß das, was ihn vorwärtsbringt, von etwas anderem getragen wird als vom einzelnen menschlichen Individuum. Das ist aber niemals zu vergleichen mit der Aufgabe der Zellen. In der Regel ist es gleichgültig, womit man irgend etwas vergleicht, man muß nur, wenn man Paare von Vergleichungen heranzieht, richtig vergleichen; Vergleiche werden in der Regel irgendwie Geltung haben, nur dürfen sie nicht so weit gehen, wie der Vergleich des Kjellén. Er kann ganz gut den Staat mit einem Organismus vergleichen, er könnte ihn auch vergleichen mit einer Maschine, das wird auch nichts schaden, oder meinetwegen mit einem Taschenmesser — es lassen sich da auch noch Berührungspunkte finden -, es muß nur, wenn man dann den Vergleich durchführt, die Sache richtig gemacht werden. Aber bis zu diesem Grade kennen die Leute gar nicht das Grundgefüge des Denkens, daß sie so etwas einsehen könnten.

Also lassen wir ihm das Recht, den Staat mit einem Organismus zu vergleichen. Dann muß er nur die richtigen Zellen suchen; und dann können die richtigen Zellen, wenn man nun wirklich den Staat mit einem Örganismus vergleichen will, nicht gefunden werden. Er hat ganz einfach keine Zellen! Geht man mit wirklichkeitsgemäßem Denken an die Sache heran, so läßt sich der Gedanke einfach nicht durchführen. Ich will Ihnen nur klarmachen, begreiflich machen, daß man nur, wenn man abstrakt denkt, wie Kjellén, man jenen Gedanken durchführen kann; sobald man aber wirklichkeitsgemäß denkt, so stößt man an, weil der Gedanke nicht in der Wirklichkeit wurzelt. Man findet die Zellen nicht; es gibt keine Zellen. Dagegen findet man etwas anderes, etwas ganz anderes. Man findet, daß die einzelnen Staaten sich mit Zellen etwa vergleichen lassen; und das, was die Staaten zusammen auf der Erde ausmachen, das läßt sich dann mit einem Organismus vergleichen. Dann kommt man auf einen fruchtbaren Gedanken; nur muß man sich erst die Frage vorlegen: Was ist das für ein Organismus? Wo kann man etwas Gleichartiges draußen in der Natur finden, wo die Zellen in ähnlicher Weise ineinanderwirken, wie die einzelnen Staatzellen zum ganzen Erdenorganismus? — Und da findet man, wenn man weitergeht, daß man nur vergleichen kann die ganze Erde mit einem PflanzenOrganismus, nicht mit einem tierischen, geschweige denn mit einem Menschen-Organiismus — nur mit einem Pflanzen-Organismus. Während das, was wir in der äußeren Wissenschaft haben, sich mit Unorganischem, mit dem Mineralreich beschäftigt, muß man hinaufdenken ins Pflanzenreich, wenn man Staatswissenschaft begründen will.

Man braucht nicht bis zum Tierischen zu gehen, geschweige denn bis zum Menschlichen, aber man muß wenigstens sich frei machen von dem bloß mineralischen Denken. Aber bei solchen Denkern bleibt es dabei; sie machen sich nicht frei vom bloß mineralischen Denken, von dem wissenschaftlichen Denken. Sie denken nicht hinauf bis ins Pflanzenreich, sondern wenden nun die Gesetze, die sie im Mineralreich gefunden haben, auf den Staat an und nennen das Staatswissenschaft.

Ja, aber sehen Sie, um einen solchen fruchtbaren Gedanken zu finden, muß man eben mit seinem ganzen Denken in der Geisteswissenschaft wurzeln. Dann wird man aber auch dazu kommen, sich zu sagen, also ragt der Mensch mit seinem ganzen Wesen als eine Individualität über den Staat hinaus; er ragt ja hinein in die geistige Welt, in die der Staat nicht hineinragen kann. Wenn Sie also vergleichen wollen den Staat mit einem Organismus und den einzelnen Menschen mit den Zellen, dann würden Sie, wenn Sie wirklichkeitsgemäß denken, zu einem merkwürdigen Organismus kommen, zu einem solchen Organismus, der aus einzelnen Zellen bestünde, aber die Zellen würden überall über die Haut hinauswachsen. Sie würden einen Organismus haben, der über die Haut vorsteht; die Zellen würden sich ganz draußen für sich entfalten, unabhängig vom äußeren Leben. Sie müßten also überall den Organismus sich so vorstellen, wie wenn lebendige Borsten, die sich als Individualitäten fühlen, über die Haut hinauswachsen würden. Sie sehen, wie lebendiges Denken Sie in die Wirklichkeit hineinführt, wie es einem die Unmöglichkeiten zeigt an denen man straucheln muß, wenn man irgendeine Idee, die fruchtbar sein soll, fassen will. Kein Wunder also, daß solche, von der Geisteswissenschaft nicht befruchtete Ideen gar keine Tragkraft haben, um die Wirklichkeit zu organisieren. Wie soll man denn dasjenige, was auf der Erde sich ausbreitet, organisieren, wenn man keinen Begriff hat, was es ist. Man kann noch so viele Wilsonsche Kundgebungen erlassen von allerlei inter-staatlichen — was weiß ich -— Verbänden und so weiter, wenn es nicht in der Wirklichkeit wurzelt, dann ist es doch ja bloße Rederei. Daher ist so vieles Rederei bloß, was in der Gegenwart gemacht wird.

Hier haben Sie einen Fall, wo Sie sehen können, wie unmittelbar notwendig es ist, daß Geisteswissenschaft mit ihren Impulsen in die Gegenwart eingreifen kann. Das ist ja das Unglück unserer Zeit, daß diese unsere Zeit ohnmächtig ist, solche Begriffe zu bilden, welche das, was wirklich organisch ist, beherrschen könnten. Daher kommt natürlich alles ins Chaos hinein, selbstverständlich kommt alles chaotisch durcheinander. Aber Sie sehen jetzt, wo die tieferen Ursachen liegen. Daher ist es kein Wunder, wenn solche Bücher wie «Der Staat als Lebensform» von Kjellén in merkwürdigster Art schließen. Denken Sie einmal, nun stehen wir in einer Zeit, wo die Menschen alle nachdenken wollen: Was soll man denn eigentlich tun, damit die Menschen wiederum miteinander leben können auf der Erde, nachdem sie immer mehr und mit jeder Woche mehr vorläufig beschließen, nun, nicht miteinander zu leben, sondern sich gegenseitig zu töten. Wie sollen sie wieder miteinander leben? -— Aber die Wissenschaft, welche davon handeln will, wie die Menschen im Staate wiederum nebeneinander leben sollen, die schließt bei Kjellén mit folgenden Worten:

«Das muß unser letztes Wort in dieser Untersuchung des Staates als Lebensform sein. Wir haben gesehen, daß der Staat unserer Zeit aus zwingenden Gründen sehr geringe Fortschritte auf einem solchen Weg gemacht hat und sich einer derartigen Aufgabe noch nicht recht bewußt geworden ist. Aber wir glauben dennoch an einen höheren Staatstypus, der einen Vernunftzweck klarer erkennen läßt und diesem Ziel mit sicheren Schritten entgegenstreben wird.»

Nun, das ist der Schluß. Wir wissen nichts, wir sind uns nicht bewußt, was werden soll! Das ist das Fazit eines angestrengten, hingebungsvollen Denkens, das ist das Fazit eben eines Denkens, das mit seiner Seele so schwimmt mit dem Strom der Gegenwart, daß es das Nötige nicht in sich aufnehmen kann. Man muß diesen Dingen eben wirklich ins Auge schauen; denn erst dann entspringt sogar, ich möchte sagen, der Impuls, sich überhaupt in diesen Dingen Erkenntnis erwerben zu wollen, wenn man diesen Dingen wirklich ins Auge schaut, wenn man weiß, welche treibenden Kräfte in der Gegenwart sind. Man braucht nicht tief zu schauen, so findet man für die Gegenwart ein gewisses Drängen und Streben nach einer Art Sozialisierung, ich sage nicht nach Sozialismus, sondern nach Sozialisierung des Erdenorganismus. Aber Sozialisierung — weil sie aus Bewußtsein hervorgehen muß, nicht aus Unbewußtheit, wie sie zwei Jahrtausende lang hervorgegangen ist —, Sozialisierung, Neuorientierung, Neuordnung ist nur möglich, wenn man weiß, wie der Mensch ist, wenn man den Menschen wieder kennenlernt — denn den Menschen kennenzulernen war ja auch das Bestreben der alten Mysterien für die alten Zeiten —, wenn man den Menschen wieder kennenlernt. Sozialisierung ist für den physischen Plan; aber es ist unmöglich, eine soziale Ordnung zu begründen, wenn man nichts weiß davon, daß hier auf dem physischen Plan nicht nur physische Menschen herumwandeln, sondern Menschen mit Seele und Geist. Es ist nichts zu verwirklichen, nichts zu realisieren, wenn man nur vom äußeren Menschen redet. Sozialisieren Sie ruhig nach den Ideen, die man heute hat, machen Sie Ordnung, es wird in zwanzig Jahren schon wiederum Unordnung sein, wenn Sie absehen davon, daß im Menschen nicht nur dasjenige herumläuft, was die heutige Naturwissenschaft kennt, sondern daß im Menschen Seele und Geist herumläuft. Denn wirksam sind sie schon, Seele und Geist; vergessen kann man sie nur in seinen Ideen und Vorstellungen, aber man kann sie nicht abschaffen. Die Seele braucht aber, wenn sie in einem Körper wohnen soll, der in einer für unsere heutige Zeit entsprechenden äußeren Ordnung ist, vor allen Dingen dasjenige, was man Freiheit der Anschauung, Freiheit des Denkens nennt. Und es läßt sich nicht eine Sozialisierung durchführen ohne eine Gedankenfreiheit. Und es läßt sich nicht Sozialisierung und Gedankenfreiheit durchführen, ohne daß der Geist wurzelt in der geistigen Welt selber.

Gedankenfreiheit als Gesinnung, und Pneumatologie, Geistesweisheit, Geisteswissenschaft als wissenschaftliche Grundlage, als Grundlage aller Anordnungen, das ist dasjenige, was untrennbar ist voneinander. Wie aber diese Dinge eigentlich zum Menschen sich verhalten, und wie sie äußere Ordnung werden können, das kann man nur aus der geisteswissenschaftlichen Betrachtung erfahren. Gedankenfreiheit, das heißt ein solches Gesinntsein zu den anderen Menschen, das wirklich im vollsten Sinne des Wortes die Freiheit des Gedankens im anderen Menschen anerkennt, ist undurchführbar, ohne daß man auf der Grundlage der wiederholten Erdenleben steht, denn sonst steht man einem Menschen wie einem Abstraktum gegenüber. Man steht ihm nie richtig gegenüber, wenn man ihn nicht als ein Ergebnis der wiederholten Erdenleben ansieht. Die ganze Reinkarnationsfrage muß im Zusammenhang betrachtet werden mit der Frage jener Gesinnung der Freiheit der Anschauung, der Freiheit der Gedanken. Und das Bewegen innerhalb der Wirklichkeit wird ganz unmöglich sein in der Zukunft, wenn der Einzelne mit seiner Seele nicht im geistigen Leben drinnen wurzelt. Ich sage nicht, daß er hellsehend werden muß — einzelne werden es gewiß werden -, aber ich sage: er muß im geistigen Leben drinnen wurzeln. Ich habe es ja öfter ausgeführt, daß man ganz gut im geistigen Leben wurzeln kann, ohne selber Hellseher zu sein. Wenn man sich nur ein wenig umsieht, dann kommt man schon darauf, wo eigentlich die hautpsächlichsten Hindernisse sind, wohin man den Blick richten muß, daß man auf die Hindernisse komme. Denn die Menschen sind nicht so — wie gesagt, ich will kein Tadler, kein zeternder Kritiker sein —, daß sie nicht an das Richtige heran wollten. Aber es sind eben so viele Hindernisse für die Seele da; so furchtbar viele Hindernisse sind für die Seele da.

Sehen Sie, manchmal ist das Einzelne, das man bemerken kann, so aufklärend, daß man ganze Zeiterscheinungen aus solchen Symptomen heraus richtig verstehen kann. Man muß in bezug auf gewisse Erscheinungen der Gegenwart sagen: Es ist eigentlich recht, recht merkwürdig, wie die Menschen gleich furchtbar ängstlich werden, schrecklich ängstlich werden - sonst sind ja die Menschen in der Gegenwart mutig und so tapfer —, aber sie sind furchtbar ängstlich, wenn sie irgend etwas hören, daß geistiges Wissen, geistige Erkenntnis geltend gemacht werden soll. Da finden sie sich nicht mehr zurecht. Ich habe ja schon öfter erzählt: Ich bin Menschen genug begegnet, die haben ein, zwei Vorträge von mir gehört, dann hat man sie lange nicht mehr gesehen. Man begegnet ihnen auf der Straße, frägt sie, warum sie nicht wiedergekommen sind. Ja, ich kann nicht - sagen sie —, ich fürchte mich, überzeugt zu werden! Derjenige, der so spricht, für den ist mit dem Überzeugtwerden gewiß recht, recht viel Fatales, Unangenehmes verbunden, und er hat nicht die Kraft, nicht den Mut, dieses Fatale, Unangenehme mit in Kauf zu nehmen. Man könnte in dieser Beziehung noch manche andere Erfahrungen anführen, aber ich will lieber Symptome aus dem mehr öffentlichen Leben bringen.

Ich habe vor einiger Zeit hier gesprochen davon, wie solch ein Mensch wie Hermann Bahr, der neulich hier in Berlin einen Vortrag gehalten hat, der geheißen hat «Die Ideen von 1914», wie solch ein Mensch - Sie brauchen nur seinen letzten Roman «Himmelfahrt» zu lesen — versucht, nicht nur so ein wenig an die Geisteswissenschaft auch heranzukommen, sondern sogar versucht, auf seine alten Tage, jetzt noch Goethe kennenzulernen, also den Weg zu gehen, den ich schon auch als richtig finden würde für den, der heute mit einem guten Grund und Boden sich in die Geisteswissenschaft hineinfinden will. Ja, vom Geiste sprechen möchten.schon heute viele Leute wiederum; sie möchten durchaus irgendwie sich die Möglichkeit erwerben, vom Geiste, vom Geistigen zu sprechen. Ich will nicht schulmeistern, am wenigsten einen Menschen, den ich so sehr liebe wie Hermann Bahr. Aber wie dieses Geistesleben gewirkt hat, um die Gedanken zu korrumpieren, ich möchte sagen die Erbsünde in die Gedanken hineinzutreiben, das wird einem wirklich, wenn man auch ganz fern davon ist, schulmeistern zu wollen, manchmal doch auf eine sehr sonderbare Weise klar.

Sehen Sie, da hat dieser Hermann Bahr neulich hier in Berlin diesen Vortrag gehalten über die Ideen von 1914, hat selbstverständlich allerlei Schönes, Nettes gesagt; aber allerlei merkwürdige Entdeckungen konnte man machen. So hat er etwa begonnen, daß er sagte: Dieser Krieg hat uns etwas ganz Neues gelehrt. Dieser Krieg hat uns gelehrt, in der richtigen Weise das Individuum wieder in die Gesamtheit hineinzustellen. Dieser Krieg hat uns gelehrt, Individualismus, den Egoismus, zu überwinden, dem Ganzen wiederum zu dienen. Er hat uns gelehrt, mit den alten Ideen aufzuräumen, etwas ganz Neues, ganz, ganz Neues in unsere Seelen aufzunehmen. — Und nun wußte er furchtbar viel zu charakterisieren, zu definieren, was wir nun alles mit diesem Kriege an Neuem aufgenommen haben. Das will ich nicht tadeln, ganz im Gegenteil. Aber es ist doch eigentümlich, wenn lang gesprochen wird darüber, wie dieser Krieg uns alle umwandelt, wie wir alle ganz anders werden durch diesen Krieg, und wenn dann zu den letzten Sätzen gehört: «Der Mensch hofft immer auf bessere Zeiten, bleibt aber selbst unverbesserlich. Auch der Krieg wird uns im Grunde kaum sehr ändern.» Wie gesagt, ich will nicht schulmeistern, aber ich kann halt schon nicht anders, als solche Dinge zu empfinden. Dabei meinen es solche Leute wirklich gut; sie möchten wiederum heran an das Geistige. Bahr hebt darum hervor: Ja, wir haben zu lange auf das Individuum gebaut. Wir haben zu lange Individualismus getrieben. Wir müssen wiederum lernen, einem Ganzen uns zu fügen. Die Menschen, die einem Volk angehören, meint er, haben nun gelernt, in dem Ganzen dieses Volkes sich zu fühlen, also den Individualismus abzutöten. Aber Völker seien auch wiederum nur Individualitäten, meint er. Es müsse ein größeres Ganzes herauskommen. - Manchmal schlägt so durch, schlägt auch bei diesem Vortrag so merkwürdig durch, welche Wege Bahr nun doch einschlägt, um den Geist zu finden. Er deutet es ja manchmal nur undeutlich an, aber diese Andeutungen verraten gar manches. Mit dem Alten ist es nichts, sagt er. Die Aufklärung haben die Menschen so benützt, daß sie sich haben alle auf die Vernunft stellen wollen; aber damit ist nichts geworden, alle sind ins Chaos hineingekommen. Wir müssen wiederum etwas finden, was ans Absolute, nicht an das Chaos anknüpft. — Und dabei kommen wiederum so merkwürdige Sachen durch:

«Was Völkern wie Individuen am schwersten wird, hätten sie dann vielleicht gelernt, hätten das Recht auf Eigenart, das ein jedes für sich fordert, auch andern zugestehen gelernt, deren Eigenart ja schließlich die Bedingung der eigenen ist, da doch, wären alle gleich, keine mehr eigen wäre, und hätten gelernt, daß, wie der Nation jedes Individuum mit seiner besonderen Kraft an seiner besonderen Stelle notwendig ist, um, eben indem es sich auswirkt, die Nation zu tragen, mitzutragen, und so zugleich sein eigener Zweck, aber auch ihr dienendes Glied zu sein, so auch über den Nationen wieder aus den Nationen sich der katholische Dom der Menschheit erhebt, der mit seiner Turmspitze Gott berührt.»

Das ist ein Wink, wenn auch nicht mit dem Zaunpfahl, so doch mit dem Zundhölzchen, nicht wahr, aber doch ein deutlicher Wink. Man strebt, den Zugang zu Gott, zur geistigen Welt zu finden, aber man will nur ja nicht heran an den Zugang, der unserer Zeit angemessen ist; also sucht man einen anderen Zugang, der schon da ist, ohne auf den Gedanken auch nur zu kommen: Dieser Zugang hat ja bloß bis zum Jahre 1914 gewirkt, und um nun dasjenige, was er gebracht hat, zu überwinden, wollen wir zu ihm zurückkehren!

Aber die Symptome, die da zutage treten, sind schon ein bißchen wert, möchte ich sagen, im Verborgenen aufgesucht zu werden; denn das denkt ja nicht ein einzelner, nach demselben Muster denken ungeheuer viele und empfinden namentlich ungeheuer viele. Sehen Sie, da ist ein Buch erschienen: «Der Genius des Krieges und der deutsche Krieg» von Max Scheler. Ich lobe es, ich kann es loben, es ist ein gutes Buch. Bahr lobt es auch. Bahr ist ein geschmackvoller Mensch, ein kenntnisreicher Mensch, hat alle Gründe, das Buch zu loben. Aber er will es auch laut loben; mit anderen Worten, er will eine recht günstige Rezension über das Buch schreiben. Worüber denkt er nun zunächst nach? Ich will eine recht günstige Rezension schreiben, einen richtigen Trompetenstoß für den Scheler überhaupt schreiben. Aber wie soll ich das machen? Mache ich das so, daß ich bei den Seelen der Menschen jetzt recht anstoße. Bei allem Anstoßen geht es ja nicht. Ich muß irgendwie einen Weg suchen, um an die Menschen heranzukommen, muß einen Weg suchen. Also was mache ich denn eigentlich? - Nun, Hermann Bahr ist zugleich ein recht aufrichtiger, ehrlicher Mensch, und erklärt es eigentlich mit ziemlicher Offenheit, was er in einem solchen Falle macht. Sehen Sie, in dem Aufsatz, den er über Scheler geschrieben hat, da sagt er im Anfang: Der Scheler hat viele Aufsätze, viele Dinge geschrieben, wie man aus der Misere der Gegenwart herauskommt. Man wurde aufmerksam auf ihn. Aber man liebt heute nicht — meint Hermann Bahr -, daß man so ohne weiteres auf einen Menschen aufmerksam wird; man liebt das heute nicht, so einfach aufmerksam zu werden auf einen Menschen. — Und so charakterisiert Hermann Bahr den Scheler zunächst einmal so, daß er sagt: «Man war neugierig auf ihn und etwas mißtrauisch gegen ihn; der Deutsche will vor allem wissen, woran er mit einem Autor ist: unklare Verhältnisse mag er nicht.»

Also die klaren Verhältnisse! Die werden aber nicht geschaffen, indem man die Bücher liest und auf ihre Gründe eingeht, sondern, sehen Sie, da gehört etwas anderes noch dazu. Unklare Verhältnisse mag man nicht. Jetzt kommt wiederum solch ein Wink:

«Auch in der katholischen Welt hielt man sich eher zurück, um lieber nicht enttäuscht zu werden. Auch hier war es seine Mundart, die befremdete. Denn in jeder geistigen Atmosphäre bildet sich mit der Zeit ein eigenes Idiom, das von denselben Worten der allgemeinen Sprache doch einen besonderen Hausgebrauch macht; daran erkennt man, wer zum Hause gehört, und so kommt es, daß man zuletzt eigentlich weniger darauf achtet, was einer sagt, als wie er es sagt.»

Nun, was hat sich denn Hermann Bahr eigentlich überlegt? Er hat sich überlegt, er will einen rechten Trompetenstoß loslassen. Scheler ist nun so wie Bahr selber, daß er jene merkwürdigen katholisierenden Bestrebungen immer — na, zunächst mit Zündhölzern, nicht gleich mit Zaunpfählen andeutet. Aber nun, sagt Bahr, spricht doch der Scheler nicht so wie ein waschechter Katholik. Aber die Katholiken wollen doch wissen, wie sie dran sind mit dem Scheler, insbesondere ich selber — meint Hermann Bahr von sich -, der ich jetzt einen Trompetenstoß loslassen will, in dem katholischen Blatt «Hochland» schreiben will — da muß man doch wissen, daß der Scheler schon den Katholiken empfohlen werden darf. Unklare Verhältnisse liebt man nicht, man will Klarheit haben.

Sehen Sie, das ist das, worauf es ankommt, Klare Verhältnisse werden aber geschaffen, indem man den Leuten andeutet: Es wird ganz gut gehen für die Katholiken mit dem Scheler! Das macht nichts, wenn er auch ein ganz geistreicher Mensch ist: es wird doch ganz gut gehen auch innerhalb des Katholizismus. — Nun will aber Bahr den Scheler als einen ganz großen Mann hinstellen, um einen recht starken Trompetenstoß loszulassen. Und da will er auch nach dieser Richtung hin den Leuten doch nicht allzu wehe tun. Zuerst zetert er allerdings, wie die Menschen geistlos geworden sind, wie sie den Zusammenhang mit dem Geiste verloren haben, daß sie aber wieder zurück müssen zum Geist. Darüber einzelne Sätze aus Hermann Bahr über Scheler:

«Die Vernunft riß sich von der Kirche los in der Anmaßung, aus sich allein das Leben erkennen, bestimmen, ordnen, beherrschen, leiten und gestalten zu können.»

Etwa zu sagen: Die Vernunft müsse nun die geistige Welt aufsuchen, dazu bringt doch Hermann Bahr nicht den Mut auf! Also sagt er: Die Vernunft muß wiederum die Kirche suchen.

«Die Vernunft riß sich von der Kirche los in der Anmaßung, aus sich allein das Leben erkennen, bestimmen, ordnen, beherrschen, leiten und gestalten zu können. Sie hatte noch kaum begonnen, es zu versuchen, als ihr schon Angst, als sie schon selber an sich irre wurde. Diese Besinnung der Vernunft auf sich selbst, auf ihre Grenzen, auf das Maß ihrer eigenen, von Gott verlassenen Kraft fängt mit Kant an. Kant erkannte, daß die Vernunft aus eigener Kraft gerade das nicht kann, was zu wollen sie doch immer wieder von sich selbst genötigt wird. Er gebot ihr Halt gerade dort, wo sie sich doch eben erst lohnen würde. Er verbot ihr zu fliegen, aber schon seine Schüler überflogen sie wieder und verflogen sich um die Wette. Der gottverlassenen Vernunft blieb zuletzt nichts übrig als Entsagung. Sie wußte schließlich nur noch, daß sie nichts wissen kann. Sie suchte die Wahrheit so lange, bis sie fand, daß es keine gibt, entweder überhaupt keine, oder doch jedenfalls keine, die der Mensch erreichen könnte.»

Nun, jetzt ist ja wohl, nicht wahr, den Seelen der Gegenwart genügend geschmeichelt; denn all die schönen Dinge von «Grenzen des Erkennens» und so weiter sind ja präsentiert.

«Seitdem lebten wir ohne Wahrheit, glaubten zu wissen, daß es keine Wahrheit gibt, und lebten aber fort, als ob es dennoch eine geben müßte. Um nämlich zu leben, mußten wir gegen unsere Vernunft leben. So gaben wir dann lieber die Vernunft ganz auf. Der Kopf wurde dem Menschen amputiert. Der Mensch bestand bald nur noch aus Trieben. Er wurde zum Tier und rühmte sich noch. Das Ende war — 1914.»

So also charakterisiert Hermann Bahr dasjenige, was der Scheler alles gut macht dadurch, daß er eine Art katholisierender Richtung enthält. Dann maltraitiert er etwas Goethe, indem er sich ja schon seit längerer Zeit bemüht, Goethe zum waschechten Katholiken zu machen, und sagt dann weiter: «Diesen Glauben, ein edles Glied der Geisterwelt zu sein, gab der moderne «Mann der Wissenschaft auf. Die Wissenschaft wurde voraussetzungslos. Den «Impuls», den die Vernunft, um wirken zu können, nun einmal nicht entbehren kann, holte sie sich nicht mehr von Gott. Woher also sonst? Aus den Trieben. Es blieb ihr nichts anderes übrig. Der voraussetzungslose Mensch war bodenlos geworden. Der Rest ist - 1914.»

«Wenn wir jetzt wieder aufbauen sollen, muß es von Grund aus geschehen. Es wäre vermessen, gleich Europa wieder aufzubauen. Wir müssen ganz still von unten anfangen. Der Mensch muß erst wieder aufgebaut, der natürliche Mensch muß hergestellt, der Mensch muß sich erst wieder bewußt werden, ein Glied der Geisterwelt zu sein. Freiheit, Persönlichkeit, Würde, Sittlichkeit, Wissenschaft und Kunst sind weg, seit Glaube, Hoffnung und Liebe weg sind. Nur Glaube, Hoffnung und Liebe bringen sie wieder. Wir haben keine andere Wahl: Weltuntergang oder — omnia instaurare in Christo.»

Aber mit diesem «omnia instaurare in Christo» ist nicht gemeint ein Hingehen zum Geiste, zur Erforschung, zur Ergründung des Geistes, sondern das Wölben des katholischen Domes über den Nationen. Aber wie machen wir das, meint Bahr, wie macht man das, daß die Menschen denken können und doch wiederum ganz gute Katholiken werden können, wie macht man das nur? Da müssen wir schon hinschauen auf solche Leute, die für diese Gegenwart geeignet sind. Da ist ihm nun der Scheler recht, denn der Scheler blamiert sich nicht dadurch, daß er etwa von einer Evolution in die geistige Welt hinein redet, daß er von einer besonderen Geisteswissenschaft redet, er blamiert sich nicht dadurch, daß er mehr sagt, als wie man — nun, wie man eben so redet vom Geist und dann hinweist: Das andere findet ihr, wenn ihr in die Kirche geht, und zwar in die katholische — denn die ist damit gemeint sowohl bei Bahr als auch bei Scheler -, die ist genügend international, meinen Bahr und Scheler. So kann man wiederum die Menschen unter einen Hut, will sagen unter einen Dom bringen. Und die Menschen wollen doch heute trotzdem denken, und so, wie sie denken wollen, so denkt Scheler. Ja, er trifft es sogar gut, meint Bahr, so zu denken, wie die Menschen es haben wollen:

«Scheler schreit nicht, er gestikuliert auch nicht; gerade dadurch fällt er auf, und man fragt unwillkürlich, wer das sein mag, der seiner Wirkung so sicher zu sein scheint, daß er es nicht für nötig hält, Lärm zu schlagen. Es ist ein bewährter Kunstgriff kluger Redner, mit ganz leiser Stimme zu beginnen und so die Versammlung zu zwingen, daß sie still wird und aufmerkt; der Redner muß nur dann freilich auch die Kraft haben, sie zu bannen. Das kann Scheler meisterlich. Er läßt den Hörer nicht mehr los, der gar nicht merkt, wohin er ihn führt, und sich plötzlich an einem Ziele sieht, auf das er gar nicht gezielt. Die Kunst Schelers, von ganz unverdächtigen Sätzen aus, auf die sich der Leser arglos einläßt, ihn unmerklich zu Folgerungen zu zwingen und in Folgerungen zu fangen, denen er sich, bei der leisesten Warnung, mit aller Macht widersetzt hätte, ist unvergleichlich. Er ist ein geborener Erzieher; ich wüßte keinen, der unsere aufgeschreckte Zeit mit so gelinde starker Hand zur Wahrheit leiten kann.»

Es ist allerdings eine besondere Kunst, wissen Sie, wenn man die Menschen so überfallen kann: erst sagt man ihnen Dinge, die unverfänglich sind, und dann geht es so sachte weiter, bis man sie zu demjenigen bringt, wogegen sie sich verwahrt hätten, wenn man sie gleich damit angefaßt hätte. Woher kommt das, und was muß man tun, damit man im rechten Sinne handelt? — meint Bahr. Er ist ganz aufrichtig, ganz ehrlich, und deshalb spricht er sich auch darüber aus in dieser Rezension über Scheler:

«Es wird nun darauf ankommen, ob der Deutsche, der gute, brave Durchschnittsdeutsche, die furchtbare Größe des Augenblicks begreifen lernt. Er ist des besten Willens, bildet sich aber ja noch immer ein, der moderne Mensch könne nicht mehr glauben, der Glaube sei wissenschaftlich widerlegt. Daß diese Wissenschaft des Unglaubens inzwischen selbst längst schon wieder wissenschaftlich widerlegt worden ist, ahnt er nicht. Von der stillen Vorarbeit der großen deutschen Denker unserer Zeit, Lotzes, Franz Brentanos, Diltheys, Euckens, Husserls, weiß er nichts.»

Und jetzt bitte ich Sie, auf die folgenden Worte ganz besonders hinzuhören:

«Im Ohr der Durchschnittsmenschen tönt immer das eben erst auftauende Posthorn des gerade schon wieder überwundenen letzten Irrtums nach. Durch sein betäubendes Gewirr wird noch am ehesten eine ganz ruhige, klare Stimme dringen, die sich nicht von vornherein der Schwärmerei, Romantik, Mystik verdächtig macht, wovor der Durchschnittsdeutsche nun einmal eine heillose Angst hat. Gerade weil Scheler die Sache der Bekehrung zum Geiste ganz unschwärmerisch, ganz unromantisch führt und im gewohnten Jargon der «modernen Bildung», ist er der Mann, den wir jetzt brauchen.»

Nun also, nun haben Sie es! Nun haben Sie gleich, was eigentlich dem Bahr an Scheler gefällt: er kann nicht in den Geruch kommen, dieser Scheler, ein Schwärmer zu sein, ein Mystiker zu sein, «denn davor hat der Durchschnittsdeutsche eine heillose Angst». Und diese Angst muß man nur ja, bei Gott, respektieren, denn wenn man sich gar beifallen ließe, diese Angst auszutreiben, wenn man für notwendig erkennen würde, gegen diese Angst anzukämpfen, dann, ja dann, dann reicht es halt eben nicht aus; dann reicht halt eben nicht aus die Puste des Mutes, die man zu solch einer Unternehmung wagen kann.

Gerade weil ich Hermann Bahr recht schätze und sehr lieb habe, möchte ich zeigen, wie er charakteristisch ist für diejenigen, denen es recht schwer wird, heranzukommen an dasjenige, was unserer Zeit not tut. Aber erst daraus kann ein wenig Heil sprießen, wenn man nicht mehr Halt macht vor jener heillosen Angst, sondern wenn man den Mut hat zu bekennen, daß Geisteswissenschaft durchaus keine Schwärmerei ist, sondern daß gerade eine höchste Klarheit notwendig ist, auch des Denkens, wenn man zu dieser Geisteswissenschaft in der rechten Weise kommen will, während wahrhaftig, nun, nicht wahr, Klarheit des Denkens ja nicht gerade aus den paar Proben gesprochen hat, die ich Ihnen verschiedentlich heute aus Hermann Bahr und sonstigen Zeitgenossen zum Vortrage gebracht habe. Aber einiger Mut auf geistigem Gebiete gehört dazu, wenn man durchschlagende, tragkräftige Ideen finden will. Man braucht wirklich nirgends weit mit Nietzsche zu gehen, man braucht auch nicht überall das zu teilen, was er in einem Satze, der einem immerhin auffallen kann, ausspricht; aber man muß doch mitgehen können da, wo gerade dieser sensitive Geist vielleicht, ich möchte sagen, gerade unterstützt durch seine Krankheit, das Mutvollste ausspricht. Und so darf man nicht davor zurückschrecken, mißverstanden zu werden. Das wäre heute das Heilloseste, was passieren könnte, wenn man zurückschrecken würde davor, daß man von dem oder jenem mißverstanden werden könnte, sondern man muß schon manchmal vielleicht gerade solche Urteile fällen, wie es das folgende von Nietzsche ist, wenn dasselbe auch nicht bis in die Einzelheiten durchaus richtig zu sein braucht; darauf kommt es aber nicht an. Nietzsche sagt in seinem Aufsatze «Zur Geschichte des Christentums»:

«Man soll das Christentum als historische Realität nicht mit jener einen Wurzel verwechseln, an welche es mit seinem Namen erinnert: die andern Wurzeln, aus denen es gewachsen ist, sind bei weitem mächtiger gewesen. Es ist ein Mißbrauch ohnegleichen, wenn solche Verfall-Gebilde und Mißformen, die «christliche Kirche, «christlicher Glaube und

Nun, wenn das auch vielleicht radikal ausgesprochen ist, so ist aber doch etwas getroffen, was schon bis zu einem gewissen Grade gilt; nur, Nietzsche hat es radikal ausgesprochen. Es ist schon bis zu einem gewissen Grade richtig, daß man sagen könnte: Wovon wäre Christus heute am meisten Gegner, wenn er nun unmittelbar in die Welt treten würde? Höchst wahrscheinlich von etwas, was sich heute in weitesten Kreisen «christlich» nennt, und noch von manchem anderen, was bei anderer Gelegenheit charakterisiert werden soll.

Davon dann am nächsten Dienstag weiter.

Sixteenth Lecture

In these reflections, we have discussed some of the oldest events in the development of Western culture. But you have seen that we have always done this in order to find, from the thoughts that spring from these reflections on the most ancient, that which is necessary to present in the present. And it is with this intention that I will continue these reflections here.

It is a time, this present time, in which it is already apparent, even on the surface, that only thoughts taken from the mysteries of human development can have any impact. However, in order to feel the full significance of such a statement, it is necessary to look quite clearly, but also to a certain degree deeply, into the needs and deficiencies of present-day thinking, feeling, and willing. It is precisely from this that one will then feel the necessity for our present age to need new impressions, new thoughts, new ideas, and precisely those impressions and thoughts that come from the depths of spiritual life, which should be the subject of spiritual science.

You see, there are some things in the present that one must indeed view with a certain sadness, although this sadness should never be something that makes one despondent, but rather something that can make one fit and ready for work and striving in the present. A book has been published in recent weeks, and I must say that when I first picked it up, I felt that I would like to rejoice over this book, to rejoice heartily. For it is written by a man who belongs to the few, one might say, who could be interested in our spiritual-scientific endeavors, and in whom one would wish that he could allow what comes out of spiritual-scientific endeavors to flow into his own spiritual work. I am referring to the book “The State as a Form of Life” by Rudolf Kjellén, the Swedish economist and political scientist. When I had read the book, I felt a sense of melancholy because I could see in a mind that, as I said, could be interested in the spiritual-scientific endeavours, how far removed his thoughts still were from those thoughts that are most needed in the present, that must take shape in the present above all else in order to have an impact on the course of development of the present. Kjellén attempts to study the state, and one gets the feeling that he has no ideas or concepts that would enable him to even remotely solve his task, or even come close to solving it in any way. It is indeed a sad feeling, but one that, as I said, must not discourage us; on the contrary, it should strengthen our resolve when we are forced to face the truth of our times. It is a sad feeling to have to make such discoveries again and again.

But before I say anything about these phenomena, I would like to draw your attention once again to the most ancient, to that which, as you can easily imagine from the information I gave you recently about the destructive element in the development of Christian culture, can only appear very clouded to the present day in terms of external history, which must therefore be brought to an understanding of the present through spiritual science. Last time, I mentioned the tremendous fury with which Christianity, spreading in the first centuries, destroyed the ancient monuments of art, how much this spreading Christianity, so to speak, razed to the ground from earthly existence. I believe that it is impossible to approach Christianity today with an open mind unless one is able to view this other side of the matter with complete objectivity. But consider something else in connection with this: consider the fact that today you get a picture from the various books that exist on this subject. Anyone with even a little schooling gets a picture of the spiritual development of antiquity, of the spiritual development that preceded Christianity. But think for a moment how different this picture would be that everyone has today if Archbishop Theophilus of Alexandria had not burned seven hundred thousand scrolls in 391 containing the most important cultural documents on Roman, Egyptian, Indian, and Greek literature and their spiritual life! Just imagine what would be written in books today if those seven hundred thousand scrolls had not been burned in 391! And from that you will be able to form a picture of what the history of the past actually is, if it is based solely on documents, or rather what it is not.

Now, let us build on the lines of thought I touched on last time. Let us be clear that in many respects, as we have seen, the cultic life of Christianity received its inspiration and impetus from the ancient mystery symbols and mystery cults; but that, on the other hand, it ensured that these mystery cults and mystery symbols were thoroughly eradicated in their form for external research. Christianity has, in a sense, made a clean sweep so that no one can know what went before, so that people devote themselves only to what Christianity itself offers. Yes, such is the course of human development; and without being tormented by pessimistic impulses, one must accept that the course of human development is not such a straight line of progress.

I already pointed out last time that much of what has flowed into the cults can be traced back on the one hand to the Eleusinian mysteries, which, however, were interrupted in their development because, as we have seen, Julian the Apostate did not come into his rights and was unable to carry out his intentions; but even more has flowed into what then took place in the following period from the mysteries of Mithras. But precisely that which was the spirit of the Mithras mysteries, that which gave them their justification, that from which they drew their actual content, their spiritual content, has been lost to external research because people knew how to cover up the traces. So it can only be found again in its true form if we try to gain ideas about the corresponding things through spiritual scientific research. Today I want to present just one aspect of the Mithras mysteries to you. There is, of course, much, much more to say about these Mithras mysteries than I can say today, but one must get to know things by gradually familiarizing oneself with their details.

If one wants to understand the true spirit of the Mithras mysteries, which played a major role even in the first centuries of the spread of Christianity, even deep into Western Europe, one must know that they were based entirely on a fundamental view that was justified in the ancient world; which remained entirely justified in this ancient world until the mystery of Golgotha. These Mithras mysteries were based on the fundamental view that the human community, or that individual human communities, for example, communities of peoples or other communities within communities of peoples, do not consist merely of individual atoms that can be called human beings, but that a group spirit, a spirit of community, which has a supersensible existence, lives and must live in communities if things are to have any roots in reality at all. A community of so many heads was not merely the number indicated by those heads, but a community expressed for these old people the external form, I would say the incarnation, if I may use the expression, of the truly existing common spirit. And to live with this spirit, to participate in the thoughts of this group spirit, was the intention of those who were initiated into these mysteries. The intention was not to remain isolated individuals with our own stubborn, selfish thoughts, feelings, and impulses, but to live in such a way that the thoughts of the group spirit played into us. And in the Mithras mysteries in particular, it was said that this cannot be achieved if one regards a larger human community only as what is present at the moment. What is present actually clouds what lives in the spirit of community. The dead, it was said, belong to the present, and the more one can live with those who have long since died, the better and more truly one lives in the present. Indeed, the longer the deceased had been dead, the better it was considered to live with their spirit. It was considered best to be able to live with the spirit of the forefather of a tribe, a community, or a family by connecting with his soul. For it was assumed that the soul continued its development after passing through the gate of death and that it knew better than those living on earth in their present bodies what was to happen here on earth. Thus, all efforts in these mysteries were directed toward performing such acts and such cults that could bring the pupil into contact with spirits who had passed through the gate of death for a shorter or longer period of time, even for a very long time.

The first stage that those who were drawn to these mysteries had to go through was usually described with an expression taken from the bird family: the “ravens,” for example. A raven was, let us say, an initiate of the first degree. What was achieved in him through the special mystery cults, through powerful symbols and, in particular, through artistic and dramatic events, was that the person concerned now learned not only what one sees with one's eyes in one's surroundings, or what one learns from the people present, but also what the dead think. He acquired, as it were, a kind of memory of the dead and the ability to develop this memory. Such a raven had a duty. He was strictly obliged not to sleep while living in the present, but to observe the present with open, clear eyes, to familiarize himself with human needs, to familiarize himself with natural phenomena. Someone who slept through existence, who had no sense of what lives in human beings and in nature, was considered unfit to be admitted to the mysteries. For only correct observation of life outside made him fit for the task he had to fulfill in the mysteries. The task consisted in trying as much as possible to enter into the various situations of the outer world in order to experience a great deal, to suffer a great deal, and to rejoice with the events and processes of the present. Someone who was indifferent to the events of the present was of no use. For what he had to accomplish within the mystery at first was to reproduce the experiences he had gained outside in the mysteries, to bring them forward in the mysteries. By bringing these experiences forward in the mysteries, they became messages for the deceased, for those whose advice was sought. You might now ask: Wouldn't someone with a higher degree be more suitable for this? No, it was precisely the first graduates who were particularly suited to this, because the first graduates still had all the feelings, all the sympathies and antipathies that enable one to really empathize with the outer world, whereas the higher graduates had more or less shed them. Therefore, these first graduates were particularly suited to experiencing the life of the present as an ordinary person experiences it and to carrying it into the mysteries. It was therefore their special task, that of the ravens, to mediate between the outer world and those who had long since passed away. This has been preserved in legend. Legends are usually based on deep foundations, as has often been discussed. And when the legend claims that Frederick Barbarossa, long since deceased, is taught in his mountain by ravens, or that Charlemagne is taught in the Untersberg near Salzburg by ravens in order to convey to him what is happening outside, these are echoes of the ancient mysteries, specifically the Mithras mysteries.

When someone was ready for the second degree, they became an “occultist” in the true sense of the word; they became a secret student, an occultist, as we would call it today. This enabled him not only to bring the external into the mysteries, but also to hear — in the same way that one received messages from the deceased — to hear the messages from the deceased, through the impulses, so to speak, which the supersensible world, this concrete supersensible world in which the deceased are, for the outer world. And only when he was thus integrated, as it were, into the whole spiritual life that is connected with the outer, sensory world through the supersensible, was he found ready for the third degree, and he was given the opportunity to apply in the outer world what he had received as impulses in the mysteries. He was now chosen to become, as it were, a “fighter” for what had to be revealed from the supersensible world to the sensible world.

You might now ask: Was it not a profound injustice to leave the entire mass of the people in ignorance, as it were, about the most important things and to initiate only a few individuals? — But you can only gain a proper understanding of what lies behind this if you assume what I said from the outset, namely that one reckoned with a group spirit, with a group soul. It was enough for individuals to work for the whole group of people. People did not feel themselves to be individuals, but rather members of the group. That is why it was only possible to act in this way at a time when group animation, the unselfish feeling of belonging to the group, was very much alive.

And then, when one had been a fighter for the supersensible world for a certain time, one was found suitable to form smaller groups within the large group, smaller communities, as they are necessary within large groups. In those ancient times, no one would have paid any attention if someone had simply stood up and wanted to form an association, as we do today. Such an association would have been nothing. In order to found such an association, such a club, one had to be a “lion” in the Mithraic mysteries, as they said, because that was the fourth degree of initiation. One had to have established within oneself life in the supersensible worlds through connection with those impulses that were not only among the living, but also connected the living with the dead.

From this fourth degree, one then rose to be allowed to lead an already existing group, to which the dead also belonged, a community of people, through various measures. If we go back to the eighth, ninth, and tenth centuries before the Mystery of Golgotha, those were very different times from today. It would not have occurred to anyone to demand that someone who had something to do should be elected; rather, anyone who had anything to do with the community had to be initiated up to the fifth degree. And then it continued until those insights which the Sun Mystery itself recently hinted at were placed into the human soul; and then up to the seventh degree. I do not need to go into this further, because I only want to describe the character of the development process of such a person who was to acquire the ability to work outside in the community from the spiritual world.

Now you know, however, that it lies in the naturally necessary development of the human race that the group soul nature has gradually receded. This is what was essentially simultaneous with the fact of the Mystery of Golgotha: that human souls were consciously seized by their I. This had been preparing for centuries, but at the time of the mystery of Golgotha there was a climax, a crisis in this area. It was no longer possible to assume that the individual had the power, so to speak, to really carry the whole community with him, to transfer his feelings and impulses unselfishly to the whole community.

It would be foolish to believe that history should have taken a different course than it did. But sometimes one can be inspired by thoughts such as what would have happened if, at the time when Christianity began to introduce its task into human evolution, everything had not been eradicated root and branch, but if a certain knowledge had been preserved in history that would also be transparent to those who believe only in documents, had been passed down to posterity. But Christianity did not want that. We will talk about the reasons why it did not want that later; but today we will first acquaint ourselves with the fact that Christianity did not want that. Christianity was also confronted with a completely different kind of humanity, a humanity that no longer stood in the same relationship to the old group spirits as humanity had in earlier times; a humanity in which one had to relate to the individual in a completely different way than in ancient times, when the individual was not particularly taken into account, but rather one turned to the group spirit and acted from the group spirit. In any case, by erasing, as it were, all the documentation of this ancient time for the outer world, Christianity left a certain darkness, even created darkness, for the age into which the development of Christianity initially fell. Christianity took what it needed into its traditions, into its dogmas, but especially into its cult, and then obliterated the origin of these cults. There is an enormous amount in the cults, but everything has been reinterpreted, everything has been understood differently. The things were there, the things were still visible to people, but people were not supposed to know what ancient wisdom the things were connected to.

Think of such a fact: we know the bishop's miter, the bishop's miter from the eighth century. This bishop's mitre from the eighth century is covered with symbols, but all these symbols are actually the same, only arranged differently, and all these symbols are swastikas. The swastika appears in many different arrangements on this bishop's mitre. This ancient cross with handles in many different forms on the bishop's mitre! The swastika takes us back to the primeval times of the mysteries, back to ancient times when one could observe how the lotus flowers work in the human etheric and astral organism; how everything that lives in the so-called lotus flowers belongs to the fundamental phenomena of the etheric and astral. But it had become a dead symbol. The bishop wore it as a sign of his power. It had become a dead symbol; its origin had been obscured. And what is communicated today in cultural history about the origin of such things is still not something living, truly nothing living. Only through spiritual science can we once again perceive the living in these things with the spiritual eye.

Now I said: In a sense, darkness was created. But we must emerge from this darkness again. And I think that over time I have said enough and in many different ways to make it clear that in our time it is particularly necessary to have ears for these things in order to hear, and eyes for these things in order to see. For our time is a time in which the necessary darkness has done its work, and in which the light must shine again, the light of spiritual life. First of all, one would wish that many souls, many hearts, would feel in the most serious, in the most serious sense, that this is necessary for our time, and that what is lacking in our time, what is causing infinite suffering in our time, is connected with all these things. It will become clear that it is not enough to look at things only on the surface; that it is not enough to speak about the causes of today's events only from the perspective of things that lie on the surface. For as long as we only talk about things that lie on the surface, we will not be able to find ideas or gain the impetus needed to emerge from the darkness that is the cause of everything else that is happening today.

It is strange how in our time people — but this need not make us despondent or turn us into critics, but merely into necessary observers and interpreters of what is happening today — it is strange how in our time people do not want to approach what is actually necessary to see, because they are mostly still unable to approach it. to look at development. I would say that it is heartbreaking to see how a mind that suffered greatly from the turmoil and confusion of the second half of the nineteenth century, even to the point of serious illness, felt about what lives in the darkness and confusion of the times. One cannot come to terms with a spirit such as Friedrich Nietzsche's if one merely regards him enthusiastically as someone to follow, as so many have done. For he countered such followers with his own saying:

I live in my own house,
I have never imitated anyone,
And I have laughed at every master Who did not laugh at himself.

This is also the basic mood of Nietzsche's entire “Zarathustra.” But that did not prevent there from being many mere followers. That is one extreme. In any case, this extreme is not what is fruitful for the present. But the other extreme is certainly not fruitful either, which could consist in saying that, although he said some quite brilliant things, he ultimately became a fool, went mad, and that one should not pay any attention to him. He is certainly a peculiar phenomenon, this Friedrich Nietzsche, to whom one certainly does not need to simply surrender, but who, even in the years of his illness, felt with fine sensitivity what darkness and confusion exist in the present. And one might say that, especially for the present day, one could perhaps gain a very good background for consideration by taking some of Nietzsche's statements about the suffering that this present situation caused him. I would like to read to you two passages from Nietzsche's posthumous writings, “Attempt at a Revaluation of All Values,” which were written at that time by a sick mind, but which could perhaps also be written today with a completely different intention than Nietzsche wrote them, and could be written in such a way as to express the deeper causes of the effects of the present. Nietzsche says:

“What I am telling you is the history of the next two centuries. I am describing what is coming, what cannot come any other way: the advent of nihilism. This history can already be told, for necessity itself is at work here. This future is already speaking in a hundred signs, this fate is announcing itself everywhere; all ears are already pricked up for this music of the future. Our entire European culture has long been moving through an ordeal of tension that has been growing from decade to decade, as if heading toward a catastrophe: restless, violent, hasty: like a stream rushing toward its end, unable to reflect, afraid to reflect."

Consider some of what you may feel in the present in light of these words written by a sensitive person at the end of the 1880s. Consider them together with another passage that I would like to read to you, which can really bring to life the deepest feelings that each of us could experience.

"My friends, we had a hard time when we were young: we suffered from youth itself as if it were a serious illness. That is what makes the time in which we find ourselves—a time of great inner decay and disintegration, which, with all its weaknesses and even with its best strengths, works against the spirit of youth. Disintegration, that is, uncertainty, is characteristic of this time: nothing stands on firm ground or is based on firm belief: one lives for tomorrow, because the day after tomorrow is uncertain. Everything is smooth and dangerous on our path, and the ice that still supports us has become so thin: we all feel the warm, eerie breath of the dew wind—where we still walk, soon no one will be able to walk anymore!”

It cannot be said that these things are not deeply felt from the reality of the present. Anyone who wants to understand this present, and in particular what the individual can set himself as a task, anyone who wants to think beyond everyday life, will feel similarly to what is expressed in these passages, and will then perhaps say: Nietzsche was prevented, when illness clouded his mind, from taking a truly critical stance toward the ideas that arose in him; but the ideas that arose in him were often finely felt from the immediate reality of the present. Perhaps one day we will compare everything that otherwise confronts us from the “enlightened minds,” which does not even touch the uppermost ripples of the causes underlying today's difficult times, with such a perception of the present. Then we will gain a different perspective on the necessity of listening to the humanities, especially in our time. For it is not the case that people like to hear them today. And in saying how little people like to hear these spiritual sciences, I do not mean to express any reproach. As I said, I am far from reproaching anyone. Those I am talking about are mostly people whom I hold in very high esteem and whom I would most likely believe to be open to spiritual science. I just want to make it clear how difficult it is for individuals to open their souls to the humanities when they are completely immersed in what can be achieved in the soul when one surrenders oneself completely to the current, to the superficial current of the present in all areas. One has to really feel this.

And now I am ready to return with a few words to Kjellén's book on “The State as a Form of Life.” This book is quite remarkable, remarkable if only because its author strives with every fiber of his being to understand what the state actually is—and because he has absolutely no confidence in the human capacity for imagination and ideas to come up with any answer to the question or problem of what the state actually is. Certainly, he says all sorts of beautiful things which, as I have seen, are greatly admired by contemporary critics; he says all sorts of beautiful things, but he does not even suspect what must be known, what must be known for the good of humanity. You see, I can only give you one main point of view. First of all, Kjellén asks himself: What is the relationship between the individual and the state? And when he tries to form an idea, a conception of this question, something immediately gets in his way. He wants to imagine the state as something real, as something whole, as something, one might say, that is alive; so let us say as an organism, initially as an organism. Some have already imagined the state as an organism, but then they always stumble around the question that immediately arises: Yes, an organism consists of cells; what are the cells of this state? They are the individual human beings! — And that is roughly how Kjellén thinks: the state is an organism, just as the human organism or the animal organism is an organism, and just as the human organism consists of individual cells, so too does the state consist of individual cells, of human beings; they are its cells.

One cannot draw a more wrong, more terrible, more misleading analogy! For if one builds a train of thought on this analogy, then man can never come into his own. Never! Why? You see, the cells in the human organism are adjacent to one another, and it is precisely in this adjacency that something special lies. The entire organization of the human organism is connected with this adjacency. The people in the state are not adjacent to one another in the same way as individual cells. That is not the case at all. The human personality is far from being, in the whole of the state, something like the cells in an organism. And if, for the sake of argument, one compares the state to an organism, one must be clear that one is certainly terribly mistaken, terribly mistaken in all political science, if one overlooks the fact that the individual human being is not a cell, but is only that which can sustain the state, is the productive force itself, while the cells together form the organism and in their totality constitute that which is essential. That is why the state of today, where the group spirit is no longer what it was in ancient times, can never be such that what drives it forward is sustained by anything other than the individual human being. But this can never be compared to the task of the cells. As a rule, it is irrelevant what you compare something with; you just have to compare correctly when you draw pairs of comparisons; comparisons will usually be valid in some way, but they must not go as far as Kjellén's comparison. He can quite well compare the state to an organism; he could also compare it to a machine, which would do no harm, or, for that matter, to a pocket knife—there are points of contact to be found there as well—but when making the comparison, the matter must be done correctly. But people are not familiar enough with the basic structure of thought to be able to understand something like that.

So let's allow him the right to compare the state to an organism. Then he just has to find the right cells; and then, if you really want to compare the state to an organism, you cannot find the right cells. It simply has no cells! If you approach the matter with realistic thinking, the idea simply cannot be carried out. I just want to make it clear to you, to make you understand that you can only carry out that idea if you think abstractly, like Kjellén; but as soon as you think realistically, you come up against a barrier because the idea is not rooted in reality. You cannot find the cells; there are no cells. Instead, you find something else, something completely different. You find that the individual states can be compared to cells, and what the states together make up on earth can then be compared to an organism. Then you arrive at a fruitful idea, but first you must ask yourself the question: What kind of organism is this? Where can one find something similar in nature, where cells interact in a similar way to the individual cells of the state in relation to the whole organism of the earth? And if one goes further, one finds that one can only compare the whole earth with a plant organism, not with an animal organism, let alone a human organism — only with a plant organism. While what we have in external science deals with the inorganic, with the mineral kingdom, one must think upward into the plant kingdom if one wants to establish political science.

One need not go as far as the animal kingdom, let alone the human kingdom, but one must at least free oneself from purely mineral thinking. But such thinkers remain stuck where they are; they do not free themselves from purely mineral thinking, from scientific thinking. They do not think up to the plant kingdom, but instead apply the laws they have found in the mineral kingdom to the state and call this political science.

Yes, but you see, in order to find such a fruitful idea, one must root one's entire thinking in spiritual science. Then one will also come to say that the human being, with his entire being, as an individuality, rises above the state; he rises into the spiritual world, into which the state cannot rise. So if you want to compare the state with an organism and the individual human being with the cells, then if you think realistically, you would arrive at a strange organism, an organism consisting of individual cells, but the cells would grow everywhere beyond the skin. You would have an organism that protrudes beyond the skin; the cells would unfold entirely outside, independent of external life. You would have to imagine the organism everywhere as if living bristles, feeling themselves as individualities, were growing out beyond the skin. You see how living thinking leads you into reality, how it shows you the impossibilities that you must stumble over if you want to grasp any idea that is to be fruitful. No wonder, then, that such ideas, which have not been fertilized by spiritual science, have no power whatsoever to organize reality. How can one organize what is spreading on earth if one has no concept of what it is? One can issue as many Wilsonian declarations as one likes from all kinds of intergovernmental—whatever—associations and so on, but if they are not rooted in reality, they are nothing but empty talk. That is why so much of what is being done at present is mere talk.

Here you have a case where you can see how immediately necessary it is for spiritual science to intervene in the present with its impulses. It is the misfortune of our time that our age is powerless to form concepts that could master what is truly organic. That is why everything naturally descends into chaos; of course everything becomes chaotic and confused. But now you can see where the deeper causes lie. It is therefore no wonder that books such as Kjellén's “The State as a Form of Life” come to such strange conclusions. Just think, we are now living in a time when everyone wants to think: What should we actually do so that people can live together again on earth, after they have decided more and more, with each passing week, not to live together, but to kill each other? How can they live together again? — But science, which wants to deal with how people should live side by side in the state, concludes with Kjellén's words:

“This must be our final word in this investigation of the state as a form of life. We have seen that the state of our time has made very little progress on this path for compelling reasons and has not yet become fully aware of such a task. But we nevertheless believe in a higher type of state that will allow a rational purpose to be more clearly recognized and will strive toward this goal with sure steps.”

Well, that is the conclusion. We know nothing, we are not aware of what is to come! That is the conclusion of strenuous, devoted thinking; that is the conclusion of thinking that swims with the current of the present with its soul in such a way that it cannot take in what is necessary. One must really look these things in the face; for only then does the impulse arise, I would even say, to want to acquire knowledge of these things at all, when one really looks these things in the face, when one knows what driving forces are at work in the present. One does not need to look deeply to find a certain urge and striving in the present for a kind of socialization—I do not say socialism, but socialization of the earthly organism. But socialization—because it must arise from consciousness, not from unconsciousness, as it has arisen for two millennia—socialization, reorientation, reorganization is only possible if one knows what human beings are like, if one gets to know human beings again—for getting to know human beings was also the endeavor of the ancient mysteries in ancient times—if one gets to know human beings again. Socialization is for the physical plane; but it is impossible to establish a social order if one knows nothing about the fact that here on the physical plane there are not only physical human beings walking around, but human beings with soul and spirit. Nothing can be achieved, nothing can be realized, if one speaks only of the outer human being. Go ahead and socialize according to the ideas of today, establish order, but in twenty years there will be disorder again if you fail to see that there is more to human beings than what modern science knows, that there is soul and spirit in human beings. For soul and spirit are already at work; they can only be forgotten in one's ideas and conceptions, but they cannot be abolished. However, if the soul is to dwell in a body that is in an external order appropriate to our present time, it needs above all what is called freedom of perception and freedom of thought. And socialization cannot be achieved without freedom of thought. And socialization and freedom of thought cannot be achieved without the spirit being rooted in the spiritual world itself.

Freedom of thought as a mindset, and pneumatology, spiritual wisdom, spiritual science as a scientific foundation, as the basis of all arrangements, are inseparable from one another. But how these things actually relate to human beings and how they can become external order can only be learned from spiritual scientific observation. Freedom of thought, that is, such an attitude toward other people that truly recognizes freedom of thought in other people in the fullest sense of the word, is impossible without standing on the foundation of repeated earthly lives, for otherwise one stands before a human being as if he were an abstraction. One never stands before him correctly unless one regards him as the result of repeated earthly lives. The whole question of reincarnation must be considered in connection with the question of that attitude of freedom of perception, freedom of thought. And moving within reality will be completely impossible in the future if the individual is not rooted in spiritual life with his soul. I am not saying that they must become clairvoyant — some will certainly do so — but I am saying that they must be rooted in spiritual life. I have often said that it is quite possible to be well rooted in spiritual life without being clairvoyant oneself. If one looks around just a little, one quickly discovers where the main obstacles are, where one must direct one's gaze in order to encounter these obstacles. For human beings are not — as I have said, I do not want to be a faultfinder or a clamoring critic — such that they do not want to attain what is right. But there are so many obstacles for the soul; there are so many terrible obstacles for the soul.

You see, sometimes the individual things one notices are so enlightening that one can correctly understand entire contemporary phenomena from such symptoms. With regard to certain phenomena of the present, one must say: It is actually quite remarkable how people immediately become terribly anxious, terribly fearful — otherwise people today are courageous and brave — but they are terribly anxious when they hear anything that has to do with spiritual knowledge or spiritual insight. They can no longer find their bearings. I have often said that I have met many people who have heard one or two of my lectures and then have not been seen again for a long time. You meet them on the street and ask them why they did not come back. “Yes, I can't,” they say, “I'm afraid of being convinced!” For those who speak like this, being convinced is certainly associated with something very fatal and unpleasant, and they do not have the strength or the courage to accept this fatality and unpleasantness. One could cite many other examples in this regard, but I would rather mention symptoms from public life.

Some time ago, I spoke here about how someone like Hermann Bahr, who recently gave a lecture here in Berlin entitled “The Ideas of 1914,” how someone like that—you only need to read his latest novel, “Ascension”—tries not only to approach spiritual science a little, but even tries, in his old age, get to know Goethe, to follow the path that I would consider right for anyone who wants to find their way into the humanities today with a good foundation. Yes, many people today want to talk about the spirit; they want to acquire the ability to talk about the spirit, about the spiritual. I don't want to lecture, least of all someone I love as much as Hermann Bahr. But how this intellectual life has worked to corrupt thoughts, I would say to drive original sin into thoughts, becomes clear in a very strange way, even if one is far from wanting to lecture.

You see, Hermann Bahr recently gave a lecture here in Berlin on the ideas of 1914, and of course he said all sorts of nice things, but one could also make all sorts of strange discoveries. For example, he began by saying: This war has taught us something completely new. This war has taught us to put the individual back into the whole in the right way. This war has taught us to overcome individualism, egoism, and to serve the whole again. It has taught us to do away with old ideas and to take something completely new, completely new into our souls. — And now he knew an awful lot about characterizing and defining all the new things we have taken on with this war. I don't want to criticize that, quite the contrary. But it is strange when people talk at length about how this war is transforming us all, how we are all becoming completely different because of this war, and then one of the last sentences is: “People always hope for better times, but they themselves remain incorrigible. Even war will hardly change us very much.” As I said, I don't want to lecture, but I can't help feeling this way. These people really mean well; they want to get back to the spiritual. Bahr therefore emphasizes: Yes, we have relied too long on the individual. We have pursued individualism for too long. We must learn once again to submit to a greater whole. He believes that people who belong to a nation have now learned to feel themselves part of the whole of that nation, thus killing individualism. But peoples are also just individualities, he believes. A greater whole must emerge. Sometimes it becomes apparent, as it does in this lecture, what paths Bahr is taking to find the spirit. He sometimes only hints at it, but these hints reveal a great deal. The old ways are no good, he says. People have used the Enlightenment to try to put themselves on a pedestal of reason, but that has led to chaos. We must find something that connects us to the absolute, not to chaos. And here, once again, some strange ideas come to the fore:

"What is most difficult for peoples, as for individuals, they might then have learned, they might have learned to grant to others the right to individuality that each demands for itself, since the individuality of others is ultimately the condition of their own, for if all were the same, no one would be unique, and they might have learned that, just as every individual is necessary to the nation in his particular place with his particular strength in order to by exerting its influence, to support the nation and thus at the same time to be its own purpose, but also its serving member, so that above the nations, out of the nations, the Catholic cathedral of humanity rises, touching God with its spire."

That is a hint, if not with a sledgehammer, then with a matchstick, isn't it, but still a clear hint. People strive to find access to God, to the spiritual world, but they do not want to approach it in a way that is appropriate to our time; so they look for another way that is already there, without even considering that this way only worked until 1914, and that in order to overcome what it brought, we must return to it!

But the symptoms that are coming to light are, I would say, worth looking into more deeply, because this is not just the opinion of one individual; an enormous number of people think along the same lines and feel the same way. Look, a book has been published: “The Genius of War and the German War” by Max Scheler. I praise it, I can praise it, it is a good book. Bahr also praises it. Bahr is a man of taste, a knowledgeable man, he has every reason to praise the book. But he also wants to praise it loudly; in other words, he wants to write a very favorable review of the book. What does he think about first? I want to write a very favorable review, a real fanfare for Scheler. But how should I do that? Should I do it in such a way that I really strike a chord with people? I can't just strike a chord with everyone. I have to find a way to reach people, I have to find a way. So what do I actually do? Well, Hermann Bahr is also a very sincere, honest person, and he explains quite openly what he does in such a case. You see, in the essay he wrote about Scheler, he says at the beginning: Scheler has written many essays, many things about how to get out of the misery of the present. People took notice of him. But today, according to Hermann Bahr, people don't like it when you take notice of someone so readily; they don't like it when you take notice of someone so easily. And so Hermann Bahr characterizes Scheler initially by saying: “People were curious about him and somewhat suspicious of him; Germans want above all to know where they stand with an author: they don't like unclear circumstances.”

So, clear circumstances! But these are not created by reading books and examining their reasons; you see, there is something else involved. People don't like unclear circumstances. Now comes another hint:

"Even in the Catholic world, people tended to hold back so as not to be disappointed. Here, too, it was his dialect that was disconcerting. For in every intellectual atmosphere, a distinct idiom develops over time, which makes special domestic use of the same words of the general language; this is how one recognizes who belongs to the household, and so it happens that in the end one pays less attention to what someone says than to how they say it.”

So what was Hermann Bahr actually thinking? He decided he wanted to let off a real blast of trumpet. Scheler is like Bahr himself in that he always hints at those strange Catholicizing tendencies — well, with matches at first, not with fence posts. But now, says Bahr, Scheler doesn't speak like a true Catholic. But Catholics want to know where they stand with Scheler, especially me — says Hermann Bahr of himself — who now wants to let off a trumpet blast, who wants to write in the Catholic newspaper Hochland — so you have to know that Scheler can already be recommended to Catholics. People don't like unclear circumstances; they want clarity.

You see, that's what matters. But clear circumstances are created by hinting to people: things will turn out quite well for Catholics with Scheler! It doesn't matter if he is a very witty person: things will turn out quite well within Catholicism. — But now Bahr wants to portray Scheler as a very great man in order to sound a loud trumpet blast. And he doesn't want to hurt people too much in this regard. First, however, he rails against how people have become spiritless, how they have lost touch with the spirit, and that they must return to the spirit. Here are some quotes from Hermann Bahr about Scheler:

“Reason broke away from the church in the presumption that it alone could recognize, determine, order, control, guide, and shape life.”

To say, for example, that reason must now seek out the spiritual world—Hermann Bahr does not have the courage to do that! So he says: Reason must seek out the church again.

"Reason broke away from the church in the presumption that it alone could recognize, determine, order, control, guide, and shape life. It had hardly begun to try when it was already afraid, when it was already losing faith in itself. This reflection of reason on itself, on its limits, on the measure of its own power abandoned by God, begins with Kant. Kant recognized that reason cannot, by its own power, do precisely what it is repeatedly compelled by itself to want. He commanded it to stop precisely where it would have been worthwhile. He forbade it to fly, but his students flew over it again and competed with each other to see who could fly the furthest. In the end, there was nothing left for God-forsaken reason but renunciation. Ultimately, it knew only that it could know nothing. It searched for the truth until it found that there was none, either none at all or at least none that man could attain."

Well, now we have flattered the souls of the present sufficiently, for all the beautiful things about “the limits of knowledge” and so on have been presented.

"Since then we have lived without truth, believing that there is no truth, but continuing to live as if there must be one. For in order to live, we had to live against our reason. So we preferred to abandon reason altogether. The head was amputated from man. Man soon consisted only of instincts. He became an animal and still boasted. The end was—1914.”

This is how Hermann Bahr characterizes what Scheler does well by containing a kind of Catholicizing tendency. He then mistreats Goethe somewhat, having long since endeavored to make Goethe a true Catholic, and goes on to say: “The modern ‘man of science’ abandoned this belief that he was a noble member of the spirit world. Science became unconditional. It no longer drew from God the “impulse” that reason cannot do without in order to function. Where else could it come from? From the instincts. It had no other choice. The unconditional human being had become bottomless. The rest is—1914.”

"If we are to rebuild now, it must be done from the ground up. It would be presumptuous to rebuild Europe right away. We must start quietly from the bottom. Man must first be rebuilt, the natural man must be restored, man must first become aware again that he is a member of the spirit world. Freedom, personality, dignity, morality, science, and art have disappeared since faith, hope, and love disappeared. Only faith, hope, and love can bring them back. We have no other choice: the end of the world or — omnia instaurare in Christo.”

But this “omnia instaurare in Christo” does not mean turning to the spirit, to the exploration and investigation of the spirit, but rather the vaulting of the Catholic cathedral over the nations. But how do we do that, Bahr asks, how do we enable people to think and yet become good Catholics again, how do we do that? We have to look to people who are suited to the present. Here Scheler is right, because Scheler does not embarrass himself by talking about an evolution into the spiritual world, by talking about a special spiritual science; he does not embarrass himself by saying more than one would normally say about the spirit and then pointing out: You will find the other thing when you go to church, namely the Catholic Church—for that is what is meant by both Bahr and Scheler—which is sufficiently international, according to Bahr and Scheler. In this way, it is possible to bring people together under one roof, or rather under one cathedral. And yet people today still want to think, and Scheler thinks the way they want to think. Yes, Bahr thinks he even hits the nail on the head by thinking the way people want to think:

"Scheler does not shout, nor does he gesticulate; this is precisely what makes him stand out, and one wonders involuntarily who this man is who seems so sure of his effect that he does not deem it necessary to make a fuss. It is a tried and tested trick of clever speakers to begin in a very quiet voice, forcing the audience to fall silent and pay attention; of course, the speaker must then have the power to captivate them. Scheler is a master at this. He never lets go of his listeners, who have no idea where he is leading them and suddenly find themselves at a destination they did not intend to reach. Scheler's art of using completely innocuous sentences, which the reader unsuspectingly accepts, to imperceptibly force him to draw conclusions and trap him in conclusions that he would have resisted with all his might at the slightest warning, is incomparable. He is a born educator; I know of no one who can guide our frightened age to the truth with such a gentle but strong hand.”

It is indeed a special art, you know, to be able to take people by surprise in this way: first you tell them things that are innocuous, and then you continue gently until you bring them to the point where they would have resisted if you had approached them directly. Where does this come from, and what must one do to act in the right sense? — asks Bahr. He is completely sincere, completely honest, and that is why he also expresses his opinion on this in his review of Scheler:

“It will now depend on whether the German, the good, decent average German, learns to grasp the terrible magnitude of the moment. He is of the best will, but still imagines that modern man can no longer believe, that faith has been scientifically disproved. He has no idea that this science of unbelief has itself long since been scientifically disproved. He knows nothing of the quiet preparatory work of the great German thinkers of our time, Lotze, Franz Brentano, Dilthey, Eucken, and Husserl."

And now I ask you to listen very carefully to the following words:

“In the ears of the average person, the post horn of the last error that has just been overcome still echoes. Through its deafening din, a calm, clear voice is most likely to penetrate, a voice that is not immediately suspected of enthusiasm, romanticism, or mysticism, things of which the average German is hopelessly afraid. Precisely because Scheler approaches the cause of conversion to the spirit in a completely unsentimental, completely unromantic way and in the familiar jargon of “modern education,” he is the man we need now.”

Well, there you have it! Now you know what Bahr actually likes about Scheler: he cannot be suspected of being a dreamer, a mystic, “because the average German is hopelessly afraid of that.” And this fear must be respected, for God's sake, because if one were to allow oneself to be persuaded to exorcise this fear, if one were to recognize the necessity of fighting against this fear, then, yes, then it would not be enough; then the breath of courage that one can muster for such an undertaking would not be enough.

Precisely because I hold Hermann Bahr in high esteem and am very fond of him, I would like to show how characteristic he is of those who find it quite difficult to grasp what our time needs. But only then can a little healing sprout, when we no longer stop at that hopeless fear, but have the courage to confess that spiritual science is by no means fanaticism, but that the highest clarity is necessary, including clarity of thought, if one wants to approach spiritual science in the right way, whereas, truly, clarity of thought has not exactly been evident in the few examples I have presented to you today from Hermann Bahr and other contemporaries. But some courage in the spiritual realm is necessary if one wants to find striking, powerful ideas. One really does not need to go far with Nietzsche, nor does one need to agree with everything he says in a sentence that strikes one as remarkable; but one must be able to go along with him where this sensitive spirit, perhaps, I would say, supported by his illness, expresses the most courageous ideas. And so one must not shy away from being misunderstood. That would be the most disastrous thing that could happen today if one were to shy away from being misunderstood by this or that person. Instead, one must sometimes make judgments such as the following by Nietzsche, even if they are not entirely correct in every detail; but that is not what matters. Nietzsche says in his essay “On the History of Christianity”:

"One should not confuse Christianity as a historical reality with the one root to which its name refers: the other roots from which it grew were far more powerful. It is an abuse without parallel when such decayed structures and deformities called the “Christian Church,” “Christian faith,” and “Christian life” are distinguished by that sacred name. What did Christ deny? Everything that is called Christian today!”

Now, although this may be expressed in radical terms, it nevertheless hits upon something that is already true to a certain extent; only Nietzsche expressed it in radical terms. It is already true to a certain extent that one could say: What would Christ be most opposed to today if he were to enter the world directly? Most likely something that today calls itself “Christian” in the broadest sense, and many other things that will be characterized on another occasion.