The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Easter is felt by many to be associated on the one hand with the deepest feelings and sensibilities of the human soul, and on the other, with cosmic mysteries and enigmas. The connection with cosmic mysteries becomes clear when we consider that Easter is a so-called movable feast, the date of which is fixed each year with reference to a specific constellation in the heavens. We will have more to say about this in the lectures to come. As for Easter's connection with the human soul, if we examine the customs and rites that have become associated with it through the centuries, we cannot fail to observe the great significance with which a large part of mankind has come to invest this festival.

For Christianity, Easter was not important initially, but it became so during the first few centuries. It is linked to Christianity's basic tenet, the Resurrection of Christ, and to the fundamental impulse to become a Christian provided by that fact. Easter is therefore a celebration of the Resurrection, but as such it points back to times and festivals predating Christianity.

These earlier festivals centered around the spring equinox, an event which, though not identical with Easter, enters into the calculation of its date, and celebrated nature's reawakening in the new life burgeoning forth from the earth. And this leads us directly to the heart of our subject, which is the Easter festival as a stage in the evolution of the Mysteries.

For Christians Easter commemorates the Resurrection. The corresponding pagan festival in a sense celebrated the resurrection of nature, the reawakening of what, as nature, had been asleep throughout the winter. However, there the similarity ends. It must be emphasized that with regard to its inner meaning, the Christian Easter festival in no sense corresponds to the pagan equinox celebrations. Rather, a serious examination of ancient pagan times reveals that Easter, in the Christian sense, is related to festivals that grew out of the Mysteries and that were celebrated in the fall.

This most curious fact demonstrates what serious misunderstandings regarding matters of the highest importance have occurred in the course of humanity's development. In the early Christian centuries, nothing less happened than the confusion of Easter with a completely different festival, with the result that Easter was moved from fall to the spring.

With this we touch upon something of enormous importance in the development of humanity. Consider for a moment the essential content of Easter. First, the figure central to Christian consciousness, Christ Jesus, experiences death, as commemorated by Good Friday. He then remains in the grave for three days, symbolizing his union with earthly existence. Christians observe this interval, the one between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, as a period of mourning. Finally, on Easter Sunday, the central being of Christianity arises from the grave. In essence, then, Easter involves Christ's death, lying in the grave, and resurrection.

Let us now turn to one of the many forms of the corresponding pagan festival, for only in doing so can we grasp the relation of Easter to the Mysteries.

Among many ancient peoples we find celebrations whose rituals enact a content strongly resembling that of the Christian Easter festival. One of these was the festival of Adonis, which was observed by certain Near Eastern peoples over long spans of pre-Christian antiquity. At the center of this festival stood a likeness of the god Adonis, who represented all that manifests itself in human beings as vigorous youth and beauty.

The ancients in many respects undoubtedly confused the god's image with what is represented; hence their religions frequently bordered on fetishism. Many indeed took the image of Adonis to be the actually present god, the god of beauty and youthful strength, of an unfolding seminal power that reveals in splendorous outer existence all the inner nobility and grandeur of which humanity is capable.

To the accompaniment of songs and rites portraying humanity's deepest grief and sorrow, the god's likeness was immersed for a period of three days in the sea if the Mystery site was near the sea, in a lake if it was near a lake, or otherwise in an artificial pond that was dug nearby. For three days a profound and solemn silence took hold of the entire community. When after that time the idol was lifted from the water, the laments gave way to songs of joy and hymns to the resurrected god, the god who had come back to life.

This was an external ceremony, one that profoundly stirred the souls of a great number of people. Even as it did so, however, it hinted at what happened within the sacred Mysteries to every person aspiring to initiation.

In those times every candidate for initiation was led into a special chamber. It was dark and gloomy and its walls were black. The chamber contained nothing but a coffin or at least something like it. Laments and dirges were sung around this coffin by those who had led the neophyte into the chamber. The latter was treated as if he were about to die. His teachers made it clear to him that by being laid in the coffin he was to undergo the experience of death and of the three days following. The candidate was to achieve total inner clarity regarding those experiences.

On the third day, in a spot visible to the occupant of the coffin, a branch appeared, signifying life's renewal. The earlier laments gave way to hymns of joy, and the initiate arose from his grave with transformed consciousness. A new language, a new script were revealed to him, the language and script of the spiritual world. He was permitted to see, and did see, the world from the viewpoint of the spirit.

Compared with these procedures enacted deep within the Mysteries, the external, public rites were symbolic, resembling in their form the initiation ceremonies of the select few. At the proper time these rites, of which the Adonis festival may be taken as typical, were explained to their participants. The rites took place in the fall, and participants were instructed in somewhat the following way:

“Behold, autumn is now upon us; the earth loses its mantle of plants and leaves. All is withering. In place of the greening, burgeoning life that began to cover the earth in spring, snow will now come, or at least a desolating drought. Nature is dying. And as it dies all around you, you shall experience that part of yourself that is similar to nature. Human beings die as well. Each of us has his autumn. And although when life comes to an end it is fitting that the souls of those remaining should be filled with deep sorrow, it is not enough to meet death only when it actually happens. In order that you be confronted with death's full solemnity, that you be able to remind yourselves of death again and again, you are shown each fall the death of that divine being who stands for beauty, youth, and human grandeur. You see that he too goes the way of all nature. Yet, precisely when nature becomes barren and begins to die, you must remember something else. You must remember that although human beings pass through the portal of death, although in this earthly existence they experience only things that are like those that die in autumn, at death they are drawn away from the earth and live their way out into the vast cosmic ether, where for three days they feel their being expand until it encompasses the whole world. Then, while the eyes of those on earth are focused only on death's outer aspect, on what is transitory, in the spirit world the immortal human soul awakens after three days. Three days after death it arises, born anew for the spirit land.”

In a process of intense inner transformation, the candidate for initiation into the Mysteries actually experienced this dying and reawakening within his own soul. The profound shock inflicted upon people by this old method of initiation—we shall see that in our day completely different methods are necessary—awakened within them latent powers of spiritual vision. They knew henceforth that they stood not merely in the world of the senses, but in the spiritual world as well.

What the students of the Mysteries received as timely instruction might be summed up in the following words: “The Mystery ritual is an image of events in the spiritual world, of what occurs in the cosmos; the public rituals in turn are a likeness of the Mysteries.” No doubt was left in the students' minds that the Mysteries encompassed procedures representing what human beings experience in forms of existence other than the earthly, that is, in the vastness of the astral and spiritual cosmos.

Those who could not be admitted to the Mysteries because they were deemed not mature enough to receive directly the gift of spiritual vision were taught appropriate truths in the cultic rituals, which symbolized what occurred in the Mysteries. These rituals, such as the Adonis cult, that took place amid autumn's withering, when all of nature seemed to speak only of the transience of earthly things, of the inexorability of death and decay, served to instill in people the certainty, or at least the idea, that death as experienced by nature in the fall must also overtake human beings, overtake even the god Adonis, representative of all the beauty, youthfulness, and grandeur of the human soul. The god Adonis also dies. He disappears into the earthly representative of the cosmic ether, into water. But just as he is lifted out of it, so too is the human soul raised from the waters of the world, the cosmic ether, about three days after it has passed through the portal of death.

The secret of death itself was thus portrayed in the ancient Mysteries through the corresponding autumnal festivals. These festivals coincided in their first half with the withering and decay of nature, and in their second half with the opposite, namely, with the eternal essence of the human being. Humanity was to contemplate the dying of nature in order to recognize that human beings die as well, but that in accordance with their inner nature they arise anew in the spiritual world. The purpose of these ancient pagan Mystery festivals was thus to reveal the true meaning of death.

As humanity developed, the time came when a particular being, Christ Jesus, carried down into bodily nature the process of death and resurrection that the candidate for initiation had achieved in the Mysteries only on the level of the soul. People familiar with the ancient Mysteries can peer into them and perceive that neophytes were led through death to resurrection within their souls, that is, they awakened to a higher consciousness. It is important to note that their souls, not their bodies, died and that they did so in order to rise again on a higher level of consciousness.

What aspirants to initiation experienced only in their souls, Christ Jesus passed through in the body, that is, on a different level. Because Christ was not of the Earth, but rather a sun-being in the body of Jesus of Nazareth, he could undergo on Golgotha in the entirety of his human nature what initiates had formerly experienced only their souls.

Those who still possessed intimate knowledge of the old Mystery initiation, from that time on to our own, understood the event at Golgotha most profoundly of all. They knew that for thousands of years people had gained knowledge of the spiritual world's secrets through the death and resurrection of their souls. During the process of initiation body and soul had been kept apart, the soul being led then through death to eternal life.

What a number of select people had thus undergone in their souls was experienced all the way into the body by the being who descended from the sun into Jesus of Nazareth at the time of his baptism in the Jordan. An initiation process repeated over many, many centuries became in this way a historical fact.

That was the essence of what people familiar with the Mysteries knew. They knew that because a sun-being had taken possession of the body of Jesus of Nazareth what had formerly occurred for the neophyte only at the level of the soul and its experiences could now take place on the plane of the body as well. In spite of Christ's bodily death, in spite of his dissolution into the mortal earth, the Resurrection could be brought about because Christ ascended higher in soul and spirit than was possible for a candidate for initiation. The neophyte was incapable of bringing the body into such profoundly subsensible regions as Christ did, so that he could not rise as high in resurrection. Except for this difference in cosmic magnitude, however, it was the ancient initiation process that appeared in the historic deed on sacred Golgotha.

In the first Christian centuries very few people knew that a sun-being, a cosmic being, had lived in Jesus of Nazareth, or that the earth had actually been made fruitful by the coming of a being previously visible only in the sun for students of initiation. And for those who accepted it with genuine knowledge of the old Mysteries, Christianity consisted essentially in the fact that Christ, who could be reached in the old Mysteries by ascending through initiation to the sun, had descended into a mortal body. He had come down to earth, into the body of Jesus of Nazareth.

A mood of rejoicing, even of holy elation, filled the souls of those who understood something of this Mystery when it occurred. Living awareness then gradually gave way, through developments we shall discuss presently, to a festival in memory of this historical event on Golgotha.

While this memory was taking shape, awareness of Christ's identity as a sun-being grew dimmer and dimmer. Those familiar with the ancient Mysteries could not be mistaken about that identity. They knew that genuine initiates, by being made independent of the physical body and experiencing death in their souls, had ascended to the sphere of the sun and there found the Christ. From the Christ they received the impulse to resurrection. Having raised themselves up to him, they were cognizant of his true nature. From the events on Golgotha they knew that the being formerly accessible only in the sun had descended to mankind on earth.

Why? Because the old rite of initiation, through which neophytes had risen to Christ in the sun, could no longer be performed. Over time human nature had changed. Evolution had progressed in such a way as to make initiation by means of the old ritual impossible. Human beings on earth could no longer find Christ in the sun. For this reason he came down to enact a deed to which earthly humanity could now turn its gaze. This secret is among the holiest things of which we may speak here on earth.

What was the situation then for those living in the centuries immediately following the Mystery of Golgotha? If I were to draw it, I would have to sketch something like this:

In the old initiation center (red, at right), neophytes gazed up to the sun and through initiation became aware of the Christ. To find him they looked out into space, so to speak. In order to show later developments, I must here represent time in terms of the earth proceeding along a line from right to left—its subsequent positions from year to year represented by arcs beneath the line—even though the earth does not actually move this way through space. At the left, let us say, is the eighth century; the Mystery of Golgotha (cross, at center) had already taken place. Human beings, instead of seeking Christ in the sun from a Mystery temple, now look back toward the turning point of time, to the beginning of the Christian era. They look back in time (yellow arrow in figure) toward the Mystery of Golgotha, and there find Christ performing an earthly deed.

The significance of the Mystery of Golgotha was that it changed a previously spatial perception into perception through time. Furthermore, if we reflect upon what transpired in the Mysteries during initiation, remembering that initiation was an image of human death and resurrection, and then consider the form taken by the cult—the festival of Adonis, for example—which was itself a picture of the Mysteries, then these three things appear raised to the ultimate degree, unified and concentrated, in the historical deed on Golgotha.

The profoundly intimate rites of the Mystery sanctuaries now stood forth as an external, historical event. All humankind now had access to what was previously available only to initiates. No longer was it necessary to immerse an image in the sea and symbolically resurrect it. Instead human beings were to think of, to remember, what actually took place on Golgotha. The physical symbol, referring to a process experienced in space, was to be supplanted by the internal, immaterial thought, by the memory of the historical deed on Golgotha experienced within the soul.

A remarkable development began to take place during the centuries that followed. Human beings were less and less cognizant of spiritual realities, so that the substance of the Mystery of Golgotha could no longer gain a foothold in their souls. Evolution tended toward the development of a sense for material reality. Human beings could no longer grasp in their hearts that precisely where nature presents itself as ephemeral, as dying and desolate, the spirit's vitality can best be witnessed. The autumnal festival thus lost its meaning. It was no longer understood that the best time to appreciate the resurrection of the human spirit was when outer nature was dying, that is, during the fall.

Autumn simply became an unsuitable time for the festival of resurrection, for it could no longer turn people's minds to spiritual immortality by underscoring nature's transience. People began to depend upon material symbols, upon enduring elements of nature, for their understanding of immortal things. They focused upon the seed's germinating force, which, though buried in the fall, sprouts forth again in spring. People adopted material symbols for spiritual things because matter could no longer stimulate them to perceive the spirit in its reality. Human souls lacked the strength to receive autumn's revelation of the spirit's permanence in contrast to the impermanence of nature. Help from nature, in the form of an outwardly visible resurrection, was now necessary. People needed to see plants sprouting from the ground, the sun gaining strength, light and warmth increasing, in other words, a resurrection of nature, in order to celebrate the idea of resurrection itself.

But this meant that the immediate connection to the spirit present in the festival of Adonis, and potentially present in the Mystery of Golgotha, disappeared. An intense inner experience that was possible in ancient times at every human death gradually faded out. In those times people had known that although a departed soul's first experiences beyond the gate of death were indeed a matter for solemn reflection, after three days the living could rejoice, for they knew that then the departed soul arose out of earthly death into spiritual immortality.

Thus the power inherent in the festival of Adonis disappeared. It lay in humanity's nature that this power should at first arise with great intensity. Ancient peoples beheld the death of the god, the death of human beauty, grandeur, and youthful vigor. This god was immersed in the sea on a day of mourning. The mood was somber, for people were at first to develop a feeling for the ephemeral. This mood, however, was to yield in turn to a different one, to that evoked by the human soul's super-sensible resurrection after three days. When the god—or rather his likeness—was raised out of the water, rightly instructed believers saw in it an image of the human soul as it exists a few days after death. The fate of departed souls in the spiritual world was placed before them in the image of the risen god of beauty and youth.

Thus each year in the fall human minds were awakened to a direct contemplation of something deeply connected with human destiny. At that time it would have been deemed inappropriate to convey this by means of outer nature. Truths that could be experienced spiritually were represented in the cult's symbolic rituals. However, when the time came for the ancient, physical idol to be replaced with the inner experience of the unseen Mystery of Golgotha, a Mystery that embodied the same truth, humanity at first lacked the strength, for the spirit had retreated into deeply hidden regions of the human soul.

The need to look to nature for symbols of the spirit has continued into our own time. Nature, however, provides no complete image of our destiny in death; and while the idea of death has survived, that of resurrection has increasingly disappeared. Even though resurrection is spoken of as a tenet of faith, the fact of resurrection is not a living one for people of more recent times. It must, however, once more become so through anthroposophical insight that awakens a feeling for the true concept of resurrection.

If, therefore, as has been said on appropriate occasions, we as anthroposophists must cherish the Michael idea as a heralding thought, and must deepen our understanding of the Christmas idea, so too must our experience of the Easter idea be particularly festive. For it is anthroposophy's task to add to the thought of death that of resurrection, to become an inner celebration of the resurrection of the human soul, imbuing our philosophy with an Easter mood. Anthroposophy will be able to achieve this when people understand how the ancient Mystery concepts can live on in the true concept of Easter, and when once again a proper view prevails of the body, soul, and spirit of the human being and of the fates of these in the physical, soul, and divine-spiritual worlds.

It is beautiful that circumstances permit of our uniting here this evening at this festival. For though the vast majority of our friends are able to celebrate the festival of love and peace outside in the circle of those with whom they are united by the ties of ordinary life, there are many among our anthroposophical friends who to-day are alone in a certain sense. It also goes without saying that those of us who are not thus drawn into this or that circle are, considering the spiritual current in which we stand, least of all excluded from taking part in the festival of love and peace. What should be more beautifully suited to unite us here this evening in the atmosphere, in the spiritual air of mutual love and peace that radiates through our hearts than an anthroposophical movement? And we may also regard it as a happy chance of fate that it is just in this year that we are able to be together on this Christmas Eve, and to follow out a little train of thought which can bring this festival near to our hearts. For in this year we ourselves stand before the birth of that which, if we rightly understand it, must lie very close to our hearts: I mean the

Birth of our Anthroposophical Society.

If we have lived the great ideal which we want to express through the Anthroposophical Society, and if we are accordingly inclined to dedicate our forces to this great ideal of mankind, then we can naturally let our thoughts sweep on from this our spiritual light or means of light to the dawn of the great light of human evolution which is celebrated on this night of love and peace. On this night—spiritually, or in our souls—we really have before us that which may be called the Birth of the Earthly Light, of the light which is to be born out of the darkness of the Night of Initiation, and which is to be radiant for human hearts and human souls, for all that they need in order to find their way upwards to those spiritual heights which are to be attained through the earth’s mission.

What is it really that we should write in our hearts—the feeling that we may have on this Christmas night?

In this Christmas night there should pour into our hearts the fundamental human feeling of love—the fundamental feeling that says: compared with all other forces and powers and treasures of the world, the treasures and the power and the force of love are the greatest, the most intense, the most powerful. There should pour into our hearts, into our souls, the feeling that wisdom is a great thing—that love is still greater; that might is a great thing—that love is yet greater. And this feeling of the power and force and strength of love should pour into our hearts so strongly that from this Christmas night something may overflow into all our feelings during the rest of the year, so that we may truthfully say at all times: we must really be ashamed, if in any hour of the year we do anything that cannot hold good when the spirit gazes into that night in which we would pour the all-power of love into our hearts. May it be possible for the days and the hours of the year to pass in such a way that we need not bo ashamed of them in the light of the feeling that we would pour into our souls on Christmas night!

If such can be our feeling, then we are feeling together with all those beings who wanted to bring the significance of Christmas, of the ‘Night of Initiation,’ near to mankind: the significance and the relation of Christmas night to the whole Christ-Impulse within earthly evolution.

For this Christ Impulse stands before us, we may say, in a threefold figure; and to-day at the Christ-festival this threefold figure of the Christ-Impulse can have great significance for us. The first figure meets us when we turn our gaze to the Gospel according to St. Matthew. The Being who is born—or whose birth we celebrate—on this Christmas Eve, enters human evolution in such a way that three heads of mankind, three representatives of high magic come to pay homage to the kingly Being who is entering man’s evolution. ‘Kings’ in the spiritual sense of the word: magic kings come to pay homage to the great spiritual King Who appears in the high form that He has attained. For as high a being as Zarathustra once was, passed through his stages of development in order to reach the height of the spiritual King whom the magic kings came to welcome. And so does the Spirit-King of St. Matthew’s Gospel confront our spiritual gaze: He brings into human evolution an infinite fount of goodness and an infinite fount of mighty love, of that goodness and that love before which human wickedness feels itself challenged to battle. Thus again do we see the Spirit-King enter human evolution: that which must be enmity against the Spirit-King feels itself challenged in the figure of Herod; and the spiritual King must flee before that which is the enemy of spiritual kingship. So do we see Him in the spirit, in His majestic and magic glory. And before our soul there arises the marvellous image of the Spirit-King, of Zarathustra reincarnate, the flower of human evolution, as He has passed from incarnation to incarnation on the physical plane, and as wisdom has reached perfection, surrounded by the three magic spirit-kings themselves, by flowers and heads of human evolution.

In yet another figure the Christ-Impulse can come before our souls, as it appears in the Gospel according to St. Mark, and in St. John’s Gospel. There we seem to be led towards the cosmic Christ-Impulse, which expresses how man is eternally related to the great cosmic forces. We have this connection with the great cosmic forces when, through an understanding of the cosmic Christ, we become aware how through the Mystery of Golgotha there entered into earthly evolution itself a cosmic impulse. As something yet infinitely more great and mighty than the Spirit-King Whom we see in the spirit surrounded by the magicians, there appears before us the mighty cosmic Being who will take hold of the vehicle of that man who is himself the Spirit-King, the flower and summit of earthly evolution. It is really only the short-sightedness of present day mankind which prevents men from feeling the full greatness and power of this incision into human evolution, wherein Zarathustra became the the bearer of the cosmic Christ-Spirit. It is only this short-sightedness which does not feel the whole significance of that which was being prepared in the moment of human evolution which we celebrate in our ‘night of initiation,’ in our Christmas. Everywhere, if we enter but a little more deeply into human evolution, we are shown how deeply the Christ-Event penetrated into the whole earthly evolution. Let us feel this as we follow this evening a relevant fine of thought, whence something may stream out into the rest of our anthroposophical thought, deepening and penetrating into the meaning of things.

Many things might be brought forward for this purpose. It could be shown how, in times which were still nearer to the spiritual, an entirely new spirit appeared before mankind: new in comparison with the spirit that held sway and was active in earthly evolution in pre-Christian times. For instance, there was created a figure, a figure, however, which lived, which expresses to us how a soul of the early Christian centuries was affected when such a soul, having first felt itself quite immersed in the old Pagan spiritual knowledge, then approached the Christ-Impulse simply and without prejudice, and felt a great change in itself. To-day we more and more have a feeling for such a figure as Faust. We feel this figure, which a more modern poet—Goethe—has, so to speak, reawakened. We feel how this figure is meant to express the highest human striving, yet at the same time the possibility of deepest guilt. It may be said, apart from all the artistic value given to this figure by the power of a modern poet, we can feel deep and significant things of what lived in those early Christian souls, when for example we sink into the poem of the Greek Empress Eudocia. She created a revival of the old legend of Cyprian, which pictures a man who lived wholly in the world of the old heathen gods and could become entwined in it—a man who after the Mystery of Golgotha was still completely given up to the old heathen mysteries and forces and powers. Beautiful is the scene in which Cyprian makes the acquaintance of Justina, who is already touched by the Christ-Impulse, and who is given up to those powers which are revealed through Christianity. Cyprian is tempted to draw her from the path, and for this purpose to make use of the old heathen magical methods. All this is played out between Faust and Gretchen, in the atmosphere of this battle of old Pagan impulses with the Christ-Impulse. Apart from the spiritual side of it, it works out magnificently in the old story of the Cyprian and of the temptation to which he was exposed over against the Christian Justina. And even though Eudocia’s poetry may not be very good, still we must say: there we see the awful collision of the old pre-Christian world with the Christian world. In Cyprian we see a man who feels himself still far from the Christian faith, quite given up to the old Pagan divine forces. There is a certain power in this description.- To-day we only bring forward a few extracts, showing how Cyprian feels towards the magic forces of pre-Christian spiritual powers. Thus in Eudocia’s poem we hear him speak: (‘Confession of Cyprian.’)

‘Ye faithful ones in Christ, who in your hearts
Do cherish true and warm our Saviour great in praise:
Behold my tears outpouring and then hear
While I relate the fountain of my grief.
And ye, who still are lost in dark illusion bound
To idol images, pay heed, ye too, to that
Which I shall tell of their deceit and falsehood.
For never lived a man, who to false Gods
Was given up as I was; never one
So deeply versed in all the demon’s arts.

‘Yea, I am Cyprianus, whom, a child,
My parents brought unto Apollo dedicate.
The orgies’ hue and cry became my lullaby,
What time the fearsome dragon’s feast was celebrate.
At seven years they consecrated me
Unto the Sun-God Mithras. Then I lived
In Athen’s noble city, as a citizen—
Such was my parents’ wish. When I was ten,
I lit Demeter’s torches, and I sank myself
In Kora’s mournful death-complaint. Then as a temple-child
I nourished Pallas’ serpent in the castle’s walls.

‘Then I ascended on the forest-mount,
Olympus’ height, where fools would make believe
The radiant dwelling-place of Gods sublime.
I saw the Horse and the hustling winds,
The days’ long chorus, wafted on on wings
Of fantasy, to speed through life on magic wings.
I saw the spirits’ fiery headlong fray,
And ambuscades deceitful. Some of them anon
Bluster and burst with ridicule and glee,
While others petrified in terror rooted stand.
I saw the ranks of Goddesses and Gods;
For forty days or more I lingered there.
And as the sun did set, I ate the fruits
Of leafy shady bowers. And there, like messengers
From kingly castles, sped the spirit-beings,
Then to descend to earth with thousand ills
To vex the race of men.

‘I numbered fifteen years, already knew
The power and work of spirits and of Gods;
And of high priests my teachers there were seven—
It was my parents’ will that I should gain
Science of all that bides upon the earth,
And in the airy realms, and in the oceans’ depths.
I searched through that which in the human breast
Destruction brews—what ferments in the herb,
In flowery juices; and what sickening creeps
Around the wearied body; nor did I neglect
That which the gaudy snake, prince of the world, conceives
To challenge the eternal goals of God.

‘I wandered on in Argos’ fairest land—
Argos that nourished the rose.
’Twas just the season’s round of Eos’ feast,
Eos white-raimented, Tithonos’ spouse,
There I became their priest.
I learned to know what windy brothers speed
Through airy spaces and this pole’s long round;
What binds the ploughland with the waters’ flood,
And darkens o’er the skies with showering rain.’

Thus had Cyprian learned to know everything that was to be learned by being, so to speak, initiated into the pre-Christian mysteries. Oh! he describes them exactly—those powers to whom those could look up who were entrusted with the ancient traditions of initiation in a time when those traditions no longer held good; his description of them and of all their fruits which were no longer suitable to that age is fascinating.

‘Myself I saw the demon face to face,
When I had won him by my sacrifice.
I spake to him, and he did answer me
With words of flattery. He praised my youth,
My fairness and my skill unto his works,
Assigned to me dominion o’er this world
And spirits to accomplish my behests;
He greeted me by name, what time we parted,
And all his great ones looked on us amazed.
His countenance is like unto the flower
Of purest gold: and on his head a diadem
Of glittering stones; his raiment’s like a flame,
And all the earth doth shiver as he moves.
In dense array around his mighty throne
Spear-bearers stand, their eyes cast on the ground.
Thus he makes up to be a God; he imitates
The Great One’s works, whom boldly challenging,
He yet creates but powerless fantasies—
For all their demons’ being is emptiness.

And then it goes on to describe how the temptation approaches him, and how all this works on him before he comes to know the Christ-Impulse-

‘I wandered from the Persian land away,
And came to Antioch, great town of Syria.
Here I accomplished many a miracle
Of hellish mystery and of enchantments’ crafts.
Here a fair youth, Aglaidas, once sought me out;
And others with him, fired with passionate love.
Towards a maiden was his heart aglow,
Justina was her name. He now entreated me,
Clasping around my knees, to conjure her
Into his arms by means of magic craft.
I hearkened to his prayers and then at first
Appeared to me the demon’s powerlessness.
Many as were the spirit-throngs he ruled,
So many he sent out to tempt her soul;
And every one returned from her abashed.
Me too, who pleaded for Aglaidas, Justina’s faith
And purity and piety could put to shame.
She shewed me then the vanity of mine arts,
And many a sleepless night I fingered on
With manifold enchantments’ drudgery.
Ten weeks the prince of spirits stormed the heart
Of yonder maiden. Till Eros, alas,
Not only sped his shaft to wound Aglaidas:
I too was seized and tom with frenzied love.

And from this confusion into which the old world brought him, Cyprian is healed through the Christ-Impulse, in that he cast aside the old magic to understand the Christ-Impulse in its full greatness. We have later in the Faust poem a kind of shadow of this legend, but filled with greater poetic power. In such a figure as this, it is brought home to us very strongly how the Christ-Impulse, which, with some recapitulations we have just brought before our souls in a twofold figure, was felt in the early Christian centures.

A third figure, as it were a third aspect of the Christ-Impulse, is one which can especially bring home to us how, through that which in the full sense of the word we may call Anthroposophy, we can feel ourselves united with all that is human. This is the aspect which is most uniquely set forth in St. Luke’s Gospel, and which then worked on in that representation of the Christ-Impulse which shows us its preparation in the ‘Child.’ In that love and simplicity and at the same time powerlessness, with which the Christ Jesus of St. Luke’s Gospel meets us, thus it was suited to be placed before all hearts. There all can feel themselves near to that which so simply, like a child—and yet so greatly and mightily—spake to mankind through the Child of St. Luke’s Gospel, which is not shown to the magic kings, but to the poor shepherds from the hills. That other Being of St. Matthew’s Gospel stands at the summit of human evolution and paying homage to him there come spiritual lungs, magic kings. The Child of St. Luke’s Gospel stands there in simplicity, excluded from human evolution, as a child received by no great ones—received by the shepherds from the hills. Nor does he stand within human evolution, this Child of St. Luke’s Gospel, in such a way that we were told in this Gospel, for example, how the wickedness of the world felt itself challenged by his kingly spiritual power. No! but—albeit we are not at once brought face to face with Herod’s power and wickedness—it is clearly shown to us how. that which is given in this Child is so great, so noble, so full of significance, that humanity itself cannot receive it into its ranks. It appears poor and rejected, as though cast into a corner by human evolution and there in a peculiar manner it shows us its extra-human, its divine, that is to say, its cosmic origin. And what an inspiration flowed from this Gospel of St. Luke for all those who, again and again, gave us scenes, in pictures and in other artistic works—scenes which were especially called forth by St. Luke’s Gospel. If we compare the various artistic productions, do we not feel how those, which throughout the centuries were inspired by St. Luke’s Gospel, show us Jesus as a Being with whom every man, even the simplest, can feel akin? Through that which worked on through the Luke-Jesus-Child, the simplest man comes to feel the whole event in Palestine as a family happening, which concerns himself as something which happened among his own near relations. No Gospel worked on in the same way as this Gospel of St. Luke, with its sublime and happy flowing mood, making the Jesus-Being intimate to the human souls. And yet—all is contained in this childlike picture—all that should be contained in a certain aspect of the Christ-Impulse: namely, that the highest thing in the world, in the whole world, is love: that wisdom is something great, worthy to be striven after—for without wisdom beings cannot exist—but that love is something yet greater; that the might and the power with which the world is architected is something great without which the world cannot exist—but that love is something yet greater. And he has a right feeling for the Christ-Impulse, who can feel this higher nature of Love over against Power and Strength and Wisdom. As human spiritual individualities, above all things we must strive after wisdom, for wisdom is one of the divine impulses of the world. And that we must strive after wisdom, that wisdom must be the sacred treasure that brings us forward—it is this that was intended to be shown in the first scene of The Soul's Probation, that we must not let wisdom fall away, that we must cherish it, in order to ascend through wisdom on the ladder of human evolution. But everywhere where wisdom is, there is a twofold thing: wisdom of the Gods and wisdom of the Luciferic powers. The being who strives after wisdom must inevitably come near to the antagonists of the Gods, to the throng of the Light-Bearer, the army of Lucifer. Therefore there is no divine all-wisdom, for wisdom is always confronted with an opponent—with Lucifer.

And power and might! Through wisdom the world is conceived, through wisdom it is seen, it is illumined; through power and might the world is fashioned and built. Everything that comes about, comes about through the power and the might that is in the beings and we should be shutting ourselves out from the world if we did not seek our share in the power and might of the world. We see this mighty power in the world when the lightning flashes through the clouds; we perceive it when the thunder rolls or when the rain pours down from heavenly spaces into the earth to fertilise. it, or when the rays of the sun stream down to conjure forth the seedlings of plants slumbering in the earth. In the forces of nature that work down on to the earth we see this power working blessing as sunshine, as forces in rain and clouds; but, on the other hand, we must see this power and might in volcanoes, for instance, which seem to rise up and rebel against the earth itself—heavenly force pitted against heavenly force. And we look into the world, and we know: if we would ourselves be beings of the world-all, then something of them must work in us; we must have our share in power and in might. Through them we stand within the world: Divine and Ahrimanic powers live and pulsate through us. The all-power is not ‘all-powerful,’ for always it has its antagonist Ahriman against itself.

Between them—between Power and Wisdom—stands Love; and if it is the true love we feel that alone is ‘Divine.’ We can speak of the ‘all-power,’ of ‘all-strength,’ as of an ideal; but over against them stand Ahriman. We can speak of ‘all-wisdom’ as of an ideal; but over against it stands the force of Lucifer. But to say ‘all-love’ seems absurd; for if we love rightly it is capable of no increase. Wisdom can be small—it can be augmented. Power can be small; it can be augmented. Therefore all-wisdom and all-power can stand as ideals. But cosmic love—we feel that it does not allow of the conception of all-love; for love is something unique.

As the Jesus-Child is placed before us in St. Luke’s Gospel, so do we feel it as the personification of love; the personification of love between wisdom or all-wisdom and all-power. And we really feel it like this, just because it is a child. Only it is intensified because in addition to all that a child has at any time, this Child has the quality of forlornness: it is cast out into a lonely comer. The magic building of man—we see it already laid out in the organism of the child. Wherever in the wide world-all we turn our gaze, there is nothing that comes into being through so much wisdom as this magic building, which appears before our eyes—even unspoiled as yet—in the childlike organism. And just as it appears in the child—that which is all-wisdom in the physical body, the same thing also appears in the etheric body, where the wisdom of cosmic powers is expressed; and so in the astral body and in the ego. Like wisdom that has made an extract of itself—so does the child lie there. And if it is thrown out into a comer of mankind, like the Child Jesus, then we feel that separated there lies a picture of perfection, concentrated world-wisdom.

But all-power too appears personified to us, when we look on the child as it is described in St. John’s Gospel. How shall we feel how the all-power is expressed in relation to the body of the child, the being of the child? We must make present in our souls the whole force of that which divine powers and forces of nature can achieve. Think of the might of the forces and powers of nature near to the earth when the elements are storming; transplant yourself into the powers of nature that hold sway, surging and welling up and down in the earth; think of all the brewing of world-powers and world-forces, of the clash of the good forces with the Ahrimanic forces; the whirling and raging of it all. And now imagine all this storming and raging of the elements to be held away from a tiny spot in the world, in order that at that tiny spot the magic building of the child’s body may lie—in order to set apart a tiny body; for the child’s body must be protected. Were it exposed for a moment to the violence of the powers of nature, it would be swept away I Then you may feel how it is immersed in the all-power. And now you may realise the feeling that can pass through the human soul when it gazes with simple heart on that which is expressed by St. Luke’s Gospel. If one approached this ‘concentrated wisdom’ of the child with the greatest human wisdom—mockery and foolishness this wisdom! For it can never be so great as was the wisdom that was used in order that the child-body might lie before us. The highest wisdom remains foolishness and must stand abashed before the childlike body and pay homage to heavenly wisdom; but it knows that it cannot reach it. Mockery is this wisdom; it must feel itself rejected in its own foolishness.

No, with wisdom we cannot approach that which is placed before us as the Jesus-Being in St. Luke’s Gospel. Can we approach it with power?

We cannot approach it with power. For the use of ‘power’ can only have a meaning where a contrary power comes into play. But the child meets us—whether we would use much or little power—with its powerlessness and mocks our power in its powerlessness! For it would be meaningless to approach the child with power, since it meets us with nothing but its powerlessness.

That is the wonderful thing—that the Christ-Impulse, being placed before us in its preparation in the Child Jesus, meets us in St. Luke’s Gospel just in this way, that—be we ever so wise—we cannot approach it with our wisdom; no more can we approach it with our power. Of all that at other times connects us with the world—nothing can approach the Child Jesus, as St. Luke’s Gospel describes it—neither wisdom, nor power—but love. To bring love towards the child-being, unlimited love—that is the one thing possible. The power of love, and the justification and signification of love and love alone—that it is that we can feel so deeply when we let the contents of St. Luke’s Gospel work on our soul.

We live in the world, and we may not scorn any of the impulses of the world. It would be a denial of our humanity and a betrayal of the Gods for us not to strive after wisdom; every day and every hour of the year is well applied, in which we realise it as our human duty to strive after wisdom. And so does every day and every hour of the year compel us to become aware that we are placed in the world and that we are a play of the forces and powers of the world—of the all-power that pulsates through the world. But there is one moment in which we may forget this, in which we may remember what St. Luke’s Gospel places before us, when we think of the Child that is yet more filled with wisdom and yet more powerless than other people’s children and before whom the highest love appears in its full justification, before whom wisdom must stand still and power must stand still.

So we can feel the significance of the fact that it is just this Christ-Child, received by the simple shepherds, which is placed before us as the third aspect of the Christ-Impulse; beside the Spirit-Kingly aspect and the great Cosmic aspect, the Childlike aspect. The Spirit-Kingly aspect meets us in such a way that we are reminded of the highest wisdom, and that the ideal of highest wisdom is placed before us. The cosmic aspect meets us, and we know that through it the whole direction of earthly evolution is re-formed. Highest power through the cosmic Impulse is revealed to us—highest power so great that it conquers even death. And that which must be added to wisdom and power as a third thing, and must sink into our souls as something transcending the other two, is set before us as that from which man’s evolution on earth, on the physical plane, proceeds. And it has sufficed to bring home to humanity, through the ever-returning picture of Jesus’ birth at Christmas, the whole significance of love in the world and in human evolution. Thus, as it is in the Christmas ‘night of initiation’ that the birth of the Jesus-Child is put before us, it is in the same night as it comes round again and again that there can be born in our souls, contemplating the birth of the Jesus-Child, the understanding of genuine, true love that resounds above all. And if at Christmas an understanding of the feeling of love is rightly awakened in us, if we celebrate this birth of Christ—the awakening of love—then from the moment in which we experience it there can radiate that which we need for the remaining hours and days of the year, that it may flow through and bless the wisdom that it is ours to strive after in every hour and in every day of the year.

It was especially through the emphasising of this love-impulse that, already in Roman times, Christianity brought into human evolution the feeling that something can be found in human souls, through which they can come near each other—not by touching what the world gives to men, but that which human souls have through themselves. There was always the need of having such an approaching together of man in love. But what had become of this feeling in Rome, at the time when the Mystery of Golgotha took place? It had become the Saturnalia. In the days of December, beginning from the seventeenth, the Saturnalia took place, in which all differences of rank and standing were suspended. Then man met man; high and low ceased to be; every one said ‘thou’ to the other. That which originated from the outer world was swept away, but for fun and merriment the children were given ‘Saturnalia presents,’ which then developed into our Christmas presents. Thus ancient Rome had been driven to take refuge in fun, in joking, in order to transcend the ordinary social distinctions.

Into the midst of all this, there entered about that time the new principle, wherein men do not call forth joking and merriment, but the highest in their souls—the spiritual. Thus did the feeling of equality from man to man enter Christianity in the time when in Rome it had assumed the merrymaking form of the Saturnalia, and this also testifies to us of the aspect of love, of general human love which can exist between man and man if we grasp man in his deepest being. Thus, for example, we grasp him in his deepest being, when at Christmas Eve the child awaits the coming of the Christmas child or the Christmas angel. How does the child wait at Christmas Eve? It awaits the coming of the Christmas child or angel, knowing: He is coming not from human lands, he comes from the spiritual world I It is a kind of understanding of the spiritual world, in which the child shows itself to be like the grown-up people. For they too know the same thing that the child knows—that the Christ-Impulse came into earthly evolution from higher worlds. So it is not only the Child of St. Luke s Gospel that comes before our souls at Christmas, but that which Christmas shall bring near to man’s heart comes near to every child’s soul in the loveliest way, and unites childlike understanding with grown-up understanding. All that a child can feel, from the moment when it begins to be able to think at all—that is the one pole. And the other pole is that which we can feel in our highest spiritual concerns, if we remain faithful to the impulse which was mentioned at the beginning of this evening’s thoughts, the impulse whereby we awaken the will to the spiritual light after which we strive in our now to be founded Anthroposophical Society. For there, too, it is our will that that which is to come into human evolution shall be borne by something which comes into us from spiritual realms as an impulse. And just as the child feels towards the angel of Christmas who brings it its Christmas presents—it feels itself, in its childlike way, connected with the spiritual—so may we feel ourselves connected with the spiritual gift that we long for on Christmas night as the impulse which can bring us the high ideal for which we strive. And if in this circle we feel ourselves united in such love as can stream in from a right understanding of the ‘night of initiation,’ then we shall be able to attain that which is to be attained through the Anthroposophical Society—our anthroposophical ideal. We shall attain that which is to be attained in united work, if a ray of that man-to- man love can take hold of us, of which we can learn when we give ourselves in the right way to the Christmas thought.

Thus those of our dear friends who are united with us to-night may have a kind of excellence of feeling. Though they may not be sitting here or there under the Christmas-tree in the way that is customary in this cycle of time, our dear friends are yet sitting under the Christmas-tree. And all of you who are spending this ‘initiation night’ with us under the Christmas-tree: try to awaken in your souls something of the feeling that can come over us when we feel why it is that we are here together—that we may already learn to realise in our souls those impulses of love which must once in distant and yet more distant future come nearer and nearer, when the Christ-Impulse, of which our Christmas has reminded us so well, takes hold on human evolution with ever greater and greater power, greater and greater understanding. For it will only take hold, if souls be found who understand it in its full significance. But in this realm, ‘understanding’ cannot be without love—the fairest thing in human evolution, to which we give birth in our souls just on this evening and night when we transfuse our hearts with that spiritual picture of the Jesus- Child, cast out by the rest of mankind, thrown into a comer, born in a stable. Such is the picture of Him that is given to us—as though he comes into human evolution from outside, and is received by the simplest in spirit, the poor shepherds. If to-day we seek to give birth to the love-impulse that can pour into our souls from this picture, then it will have the force to promote that which we would and should achieve, to assist in the tasks that we have set ourselves in the realm of Anthroposophy, and that karma has pointed out to us as deep and right tasks in the realm of Anthroposophy.

Let us take this with us from this evening’s thoughts on the Christmas initiation night, saying that we have come together in order to take out with us the impulse of love, not only for a short time, but for all our striving that we have set before us, inasmuch as we can understand it through the spirit of our anthroposophical view of the world.

In the last two lectures an endeavour was made to call attention to the fact that behind all the material phenomena of the substance of our earth something spiritual is to be sought. We endeavoured to describe the spiritual to be found behind the phenomenon of heat, and then that behind the phenomenon of flowing air. As, in order to do this, it was necessary to turn back to the very early ages of our evolution, we had to glance into our own soul-life to describe the spiritual conditions underlying matter. For it is obvious that the concepts by means of which anything is described must necessarily be drawn from somewhere. Words alone will not suffice; we must have quite definite conceptions. As we have seen, the spiritual conditions to which we referred are so far removed from anything experienced by man at the present time, or of which he can have knowledge—that we had to appeal to certain conditions in our soul-life, conditions by no means universal. We have seen that the deepest being of all conditions of heat and fire must be sought very far away from what we know as external physical fire or heat. To a man of the present day it must appear truly absurd that sacrifice should be recognised as the essence of all conditions of heat: a sacrifice made by very definite Beings to be met with in the old Saturn state of the Earth—the Thrones—who then brought their sacrifice to the Cherubim. And yet in truth we must say that a sacrifice such as possessed its starting point in the world-evolution, appears to us—although in maya or illusion—in all external conditions of heat or fire. In the last lecture we also recognised that behind all that we may call flowing air or flowing gas, there is something very far away, which we have called ‘the virtue of bestowal,’ the devotional pouring forth by spiritual Beings of their own being. This is to be found in every breath of wind, in all flowing air. Thus what is perceived externally, physically, is in reality mere illusion, nothing but maya; and only when we progress from maya to the incorporeal, the spiritual, do we obtain the correct conception of fire and heat; for in fact fire, heat and light bear the same relation to the real world as does the reflected image of a man seen in a mirror to the person himself. For, just as the mirror presents merely an illusion in relation to the man, so in this sense, fire, heat and air are illusions; and the realities behind these bear the same relation to them as the real man to his reflection. Neither fire nor air should be sought in the world of reality, but sacrifice, and the virtue of bestowal.

When we saw the virtue of bestowal added to that of sacrifice we ascend from the life of ancient Saturn to that of ancient Sun. In the latter, the second cosmic embodiment of our earth, we find something which brings us a step nearer to the real conditions of development. Yet another concept must now be introduced, which belongs to the world of reality as concerned with the world of illusion. But before passing to the actual conditions of development we must acquire a definite idea from the following.

When in his external life a man does something, accomplishes something, the impulse of his will as a rule underlies it. Whatever he does, be it the movement of a hand or the greatest of deeds, the impulse of the will underlies them. From his will proceeds everything that leads to an act, to an achievement. Now at first a man would say that a strong, forceful act, one for instance that is to bring about great healing and blessing, must proceed from a stronger impulse of will, while a less important act comes from a weaker impulse. And in general it is assumed that the greatness of the deed depends upon the strength of the impulse of the will. But only in a certain degree is it correct that as we intensify our will we accomplish great things in the world. Certain deeds that man may do—particularly such as bear upon the spiritual world—do not, strange to say, now depend upon the strengthening of our impulses of will. In the physical world, in which we particularly live, the greatness of our deeds certainly does depend upon the strength of our impulses of will, for the more we wish to accomplish, the greater are the efforts we must make. But in the spiritual world this is not so, there the opposite comes to pass. There it is the case that the greatest deeds or better said, the greatest results do not necessitate any strengthening of the positive impulses of will, but far more a certain resignation, a renouncing. Take the very smallest purely spiritual facts. We do not attain any spiritual effects by bringing strong desires into play, or by bestirring ourselves as much as possible; no—in the spiritual world we attain certain results by controlling our wishes and desires, and renouncing all idea of satisfying them. Suppose a man has made up his mind to bring something about in the world by means of inner spiritual workings. To do this he would have to prepare himself by learning above all to suppress his own wishes and desires. For whereas in the physical world we grow stronger when we eat well, when we are well nourished and acquire greater strength thereby, so, in the spiritual world, when we wish to attain something important we can precisely do so with the greatest ease, if, by fasting or other means, we repress and control our wishes and desires; (this is only a statement, and not given by way of advice). The greatest spiritual, magical effects, always require preparation connected with the renunciation of wishes, desires, and impulses of will which may appear within us. The less we ‘will’ the more we say: We will allow life to flow over us, not longing for this or that, but accepting everything just as Karma sends it to us, the more we are able to accept Karma and its workings in this way, keeping quietly ready to renounce all that we should otherwise wish to choose for this life, the more forceful shall we become as regards the activity of our thinking. In the case of a teacher or tutor who is above all things fond of eating and drinking and has other masterful passions, it will be noticeable that his words to his pupils will not accomplish very much, his words will go in at one ear and out at the other. He will think that this is the fault of the pupils, but that is not always the case. A man who has begun to lead a higher life, who lives temperately, who only eats as much as is necessary to support life, who is determined to accept what destiny brings him with equanimity, will gradually notice that his words have great force; he will not even require to look at his pupils, but only to be near them and have encouraging thought without expressing it, and that thought will pass over to the pupil. It all depends on the degree of renunciation and self-denial he has acquired as regards the things usually desired by man.

The right path for spiritual activities intended to lead to spiritual effects in the higher worlds, is that of renunciation. In relation to this many delusions are met with, and delusions while resembling true renunciation, do not lead to the right results. We are all acquainted with what in ordinary life is called ‘asceticism,’ self-inflicted suffering. In many cases the practice of this may be a spiritual self-indulgence, for a person may practise it in order to obtain great results, or from some other source of desire for self-satisfaction. In such cases asceticism produces no results; it is of no avail unless it is a sign of the renunciation rooted in the spirit. Let us then acquire the concept of the creative renunciation, the creative resignation. It is indeed of immense importance that we should accept this renunciation, this creative resignation, which we may experience in the soul, as a conception of something far removed from our everyday life; and then we are guided a step deeper into the evolution of humanity. For in the process of evolution something of the kind really does take place in the transition from the conditions of ancient Sun to those of ancient Moon. Something of the nature of renunciation takes place in the realm of the Beings of the higher worlds, for these Beings, as we know already, are connected with the process of the earth's development. At this juncture let us once again call to mind the ancient Sun evolution. But let us first give our attention to something else with which we are already familiar, but which may until now have appeared in some respects to be somewhat of an enigma.

We have repeatedly drawn attention to occurrences in evolution which must be traced back to those beings who have in the course of evolution ‘remained behind.’ We know that the Luciferic beings have invaded the domain of our earth humanity. It has repeatedly been necessary to draw attention to the fact that these beings are able to enter our astral body during the development of our earth because they did not, during the evolution of the Moon, reach the stage they ought to have attained. A commonplace comparison has often been used, that as in our schools some pupils remain behind, so even in the great cosmic evolution there are cosmic beings who, remaining behind in the stages of their own evolution, subsequently interfere with the evolutionary stages of other beings, with a result similar to that produced by the Luciferic beings, who lingered behind on the ancient Moon. We might easily suppose these to be faulty beings actually injurious to the evolution of the world; for why did they linger behind? Such a thought might occur to us. The thought, however, which we should entertain is this: that man would never have attained his freedom, or the capacity for individual initiative action had not the Luciferic beings remained behind on the Moon. So that on the one hand man owes to the Luciferic beings the fact that he has in his astral body passions, emotions, and desires driving him constantly down from a certain height into lower parts of his nature. But, on the other hand, if man were incapable of wickedness, unable to err from good through the forces of the Luciferic beings in his astral body he could not act freely, or possess what we call freewill, freedom of choice. We must therefore admit that to the Luciferic beings we owe our freedom. The deduction to be drawn from this is that the one-sided view is not valid that claims that they only lead man astray; their remaining behind must be regarded as something beneficial, as something without which he could never have acquired his human dignity, in the true sense of the word.

Now what we call the ‘remaining behind’ of the Luciferic and Ahrimanic beings is based on something much deeper, something already to be encountered in connection with ancient Saturn, although it is there so difficult to perceive that words could hardly be found in any language to describe it. But when we advance to the ancient Sun-existence, we are able to describe it quite distinctly if we bear in mind the idea of resignation or renunciation which we just described at the beginning of this lecture. For what lies beneath all such remaining behind and all its influence is renunciation, resignation by higher Beings. So now, on the Sun we see the following taking place. We have said that the Thrones, the Spirits of Will, offer sacrifice to the Cherubim; and this they do, as we have seen in the last lecture, not only during the Saturn period, but they continue their sacrifice through that of the Sun, so that there too we have the idea of the Thrones or Spirits of Will sacrificing to the Cherubim. In this sacrifice is to be found the actual essence of all the conditions of heat or fire present in the world. Now: if we look back into the Akashic Record of the Sun-age we can quite distinctly notice the following. The Thrones offer and continue their sacrificial activity; so that we have there the sacrificing Thrones and a host of Cherubim to whom, as we see, the sacrifice rises, while they take into themselves the heat which flows forth from it. However, another host of Cherubim accomplish something else; these renounce the sacrifice, they do not accept what is offered them. We must therefore complete the picture we called up before our minds in the last lecture.

In this picture we have the sacrificing Thrones and those Cherubim who accept their sacrifice, and we also have the Cherubim who do not accept it—but give back that which was offered up to them. It is extraordinarily interesting to follow this in the Akashic Record. For by reason of the bestowing virtue of the Spirits of Wisdom now flowing into the sacrificial heat we are able during the ancient Sun-period to see ascending something like sacrificial smoke of which we have said, that it is reflected back by the Archangels from the outermost periphery of the Sun, in the form of light. But now besides this, something altogether different seems to appear in the space of ancient Sun; not merely the sacrificial smoke thrown back by the Archangels in the form of light, but also that smoke which was not accepted by the Cherubim and which as it were flows back again, as though dammed back. So that we have permanent clouds of sacrifice in space; Sacrifice that ascends, Sacrifice that descends, Sacrifice accepted and Sacrifice rejected. The encounter of these intrinsically Spiritual cloud-formations is seen to take place between what in the last lecture we called the ‘outer’ and the ‘inner’, until the separation occurs. Thus in the centre we have the sacrificing Thrones, then in the heights above the Cherubim accepting the sacrifice, and beside these, those other Cherubim who did not accept the proffered sacrifice, but diverted its course back again. Through this diversion arises, as it were, an encircling cloud, and right outside we have the cast-back masses of light. Let us try to form a picture of this in our minds. We must think of this ancient Sun-space, the ancient Sun-mass as a cosmic globe beyond which we conceive of nothing, so that we only imagine space extending as far as the Archangels. Let us further picture in the centre of this globular formation the meeting of the accepted and the rejected sacrifices. From these two, the accepted and rejected sacrifices, there comes into being in the ancient Sun something that we may call a division of the whole Sun-substance, a divergence. If we wish to compare the Sun in that bygone age with any external image, we can only compare it with the form of our present Saturn which is a globe encircled by rings; for that which is in the centre is thrown inwards by volumes of sacrifice and that which was outside is arranged as an encircling mass. Thus we have the Sun's substance divided into two parts by the force of the arrested and dammed up powers of the sacrifice.

What then is brought about by this renunciation of the sacrifice on the part of certain of the Cherubim?

We are now coming to an extremely difficult chapter indeed, and we shall only be able gradually to grasp, by means of meditation, what is comprised in the conceptions about to be set forth. Only after long and profound reflection upon the conceptions about to be given can we discern what the realities are that underlie them. That resignation of which mention has already been made, must be brought into connection with the origin of Time—the scene of which we have laid in ancient Saturn. Time, as we have seen, actually originated on ancient Saturn, with the Archai or Spirits of Time, and there is no sense in referring to Time previous to ancient Saturn. Now at the risk of repeating ourselves, we may say that Time continues. Continuity or Duration is a conception which contains Time within itself. Thus when we say that Time is continuous it means that when we observe Saturn and Sun in the Akashic records, on Saturn we find the origin of Time—and on the Sun we still find Time present. Now if all conditions remained as they were, as we described them in the last two lectures when speaking of Saturn and Sun. Time would then form an element in everything that happens in evolution. We could not in thought eliminate Time from any occurrence in evolution. We have seen that the Spirits of Time came into being on ancient Saturn, and that Time is implanted into everything. All that we have hitherto thought whether in pictures or in imagination concerning evolution we must bring into connection with Time. All that has taken place—sacrifice and the virtue of bestowal, which we have mentioned—would be subject to Time, nothing would not be subject to Time, which means that all arising and passing away which indeed pertains to Time, must be subject to it.

Now those Cherubim who renounced the acceptance of the sacrifice and of that which was, as it were, contained in the smoke of the sacrifice, did so because in so doing, they withdrew from the properties of this sacrificial smoke. And to these properties belongs above all Time, which includes ‘arising’ and ‘passing away.’ The whole renunciation of the sacrifice on the part of these Cherubim signifies that they had grown beyond the conditions of Time. These Cherubim extended beyond Time and withdrew from subjection to it. The combination of circumstances during the evolution of ancient Sun was such, that the sacrificing and the virtue of bestowal, which conditions continued in a direct line from Saturn, remain subject to Time; whilst others, brought about by the other Cherubim who renounced the acceptance of the sacrifice wrested themselves free, and chose Eternity, Duration, permanence, the non-subjection to arising and passing away. It is in the highest degree remarkable; during the evolution of ancient Sun we come to a severance between Time and Eternity. Through the resignation made by the Cherubim during the Sun-evolution, Eternity was gained, as a property of certain conditions which then came about. Just as we saw, on looking into our soul, that in it certain effects were produced through the acquisition by man of the qualities of renunciation and resignation—so we see, speaking now of the ancient Sun alone, that eternity and immortality were acquired by certain divine Spiritual Beings, that they resigned the sacrifice and all that might have come to them from the virtue of bestowal and all its diffused gifts. Whereas we have seen Time coming into being on ancient Saturn, we have also seen certain conditions wresting themselves free from it during the Sun development. But we must take special care to note that this was prepared even during the Saturn-age; so that Eternity does not actually begin during the Sun age. This can however, only be sufficiently clearly and distinctly observed so that it can be expressed in concepts, in the Sun-age: on Saturn the division between Time and Eternity is so faintly perceptible that our ideas and words do not prove precise enough to define anything of the sort for ancient Saturn and its evolution.

We have now learnt the significance of resignation, the renunciation made by the gods during the time of ancient Sun, and the attainment of immortality. What was the further consequence of this?

From the study of the book Occult Science which must in certain respects still be veiled in Maya, we learn that the evolution of ancient Moon followed that of ancient Sun, that at the close of the Sun-age all the existing conditions were immersed in a kind of twilight, in a sort of cosmic chaos, from which emerged the Moon. And we see the sacrifice re-issuing in the form of heat. All that remained as heat on ancient Sun reappears as heat on the Moon; we see the virtue of bestowal reappearing as gas, or air. And with the resignation also continues the renunciation of the sacrifice; all that we have called ‘resignation’ is within whatever takes place on ancient Moon. It is actually the case, that what we can ourselves experience as resignation we must think of in everything on ancient Moon, carried over from ancient Sun, and as we think of everything else in the external world. That which had been sacrifice reappears in Maya as Heat; and that which was bestowing virtue appears in Maya as gas or air. Resignation as it has now become appears in external Maya as Fluidity, as ‘Water’. ‘Water’ is Maya and would not be in the world at all were it not that its spiritual foundation is renunciation, or resignation. Wherever water is to be found in the world there is divine-renunciation. Just as heat is an illusion behind which is sacrifice, and gas or air an illusion behind which is the virtue of bestowal, so is water as a substance, as an external reality, nothing but an illusion of the senses, a reflection; the only reality existing in it, is resignation by certain Beings of that which they receive from other Beings. It might be said, water could only flow in the world because resignation underlies it. Now, we know that while the Sun progressed to Moon, airy conditions condensed to watery conditions. Water first appeared on the Moon; on ancient Sun there was as yet no water. What we see gathering like clouds during the old Sun development coagulated as they interpenetrated each other, to denser substance, to ‘water,’ and this appears on ancient Moon as the Moon-ocean.

If we bear this in mind it will at any rate be possible to grasp a question that may be raised. From resignation comes forth water; water is in literal truth resignation. We acquire a peculiar kind of spiritual insight into the actual nature of water. But now the question may be raised: There is after all a certain difference between the conditions which would have arisen if the Cherubim had not made this resignation, and that which has actually come about through their having done so. Is this difference in any way conveyed? Yes, it is. It is conveyed in the fact that the consequences of that resignation appeared clearly during the Sun-State. If it had never been made, if the Cherubim had accepted the proffered sacrifice, they would—speaking figuratively—have had the sacrificial smoke as part of their own inner substance; what they themselves had done would have found expression in the smoke of the sacrifice. Suppose these Cherubim had accomplished this or that; this would have been apparent, it would have been outwardly expressed by the changing clouds of the air; that is to say: In the outer form of the air would have been expressed what the Cherubim who made no resignation did with the substance of the sacrifice. But they did reject it, and in so doing they passed from mortality to immortality, from a transitory state into a State of Duration. However the substance of the sacrifice is there to begin with; it is released from the forces, so to speak, which it would otherwise have absorbed, and is now obliged to follow the inclinations and impulses of the Cherubim; for they gave it up, they renounced it. What then happens to this substance of sacrifice? The following occurs: It happens that other beings, because the sacrificial substance is not with the Cherubim, take possession of it, become independent of the Cherubim, self-reliant beings; whereas they would otherwise have been directed from the sacrificial substance within the Cherubim, if the latter had accepted it. Thus it became possible for the opposite of resignation to arise; in that certain beings attracted to themselves the substance of the sacrifice that had been poured forth and become active within it. These beings are ‘they who remained behind’; ‘remaining behind’ was therefore a consequence of the resignation made by the Cherubim. Through the very substance which they refused to accept, the Cherubim themselves furnished backward beings with the first possibility of staying behind. Through the rejection of a sacrifice, other beings who did not resign it, but gave way to their wishes and desires, bringing them to expression were enabled to take possession of the object of the sacrifice, of the sacrificial substance, thereby attaining the possibility of taking their place as independent beings side by side with those who here were offering.

Thus, when evolution passed from ancient Sun to Moon, with the immortality of the Cherubim, the possibility was given for other beings to separate in their own substance from the uninterrupted evolution of the Cherubim, generally speaking from the immortal beings. So now, when we learn the deeper reasons of the remaining behind, we see that the original fault—if we may venture to speak of such an original fault—did not lay with those who remained behind. This is the important point, which we must realise: If the Cherubim had accepted the proffered sacrifice, the Luciferic beings could not have remained behind; they would have had no opportunity of embodying themselves in that substance. To make it possible for beings to become thus independent, renunciation previously took place. Thus, in cosmic evolution it is the case that the gods themselves called their opponents into being. If the gods had not renounced the sacrifice, beings would not have been able to oppose them. Put into simple words we may suppose the gods had foreseen as follows: ‘If we merely go on creating as we have done from Saturn to Sun there would never be any free beings, capable of acting from their own initiative. In order that beings of this nature might come into existence, the possibility must be given for opponents to arise against us in the Universe, so that we should meet with resistance in that which is subject to time. If we ourselves ordain everything we shall meet with no such resistance. We could make everything very easy for ourselves by accepting the sacrifice offered to us; then would the whole of evolution be subject unto us. But this will not do, we want beings able to resist us. We will therefore not accept the sacrifice; so that through our resignation and because they accept the sacrifice, they become our opponents!’

So we see that we must not look for the origin of evil in the so-called ‘evil’ beings, but in the ‘good’ Beings, who, through their resignation first brought evil about through those beings who were able to bring it into the world. But now the following objection may easily be made, (and I want you to let these thoughts work profoundly upon your souls): I have till now thought more highly of the gods! I have always believed them able to give freedom to man without creating the possibility of evil. How is it that all these ‘good gods could not produce something like human freedom without bringing evil into the world?’ In this connection I should like to remind you of that Spanish King who considered the world dreadfully complicated, and who said on one occasion that if God had allowed him to create it he would have made it much simpler—Man in his weakness may think that the world might have been made simpler than it is, but the gods knew better and therefore they did not allow man to create the world.

From the standpoint of scientific perception, we might describe these circumstances more accurately. Suppose something required supporting and the suggestion were made that a column might be erected and the weight rested on that. This person in question might say: ‘There must be some other way of doing it!’ Why, indeed, should it not be done in some other way? Or again, when a triangle is made use of in building, it might be said: Why should a triangle have only three angles? Perhaps a god might make a triangle not having three angles? There would be just as little sense in thinking of a triangle without three angles, as in supposing that the gods might have created freedom without the possibility of evil and suffering. Just as three angles are necessary to a triangle, so the possibility of evil, given by the resignation of Divine Beings, is necessary to freedom. It all forms part of the Divine resignation, for the gods created evolution out of immortality, after they had through their renunciation or sacrifice, ascended to immortality, in order to lead back evil to good. The gods did not shrink from the evil, which alone could give the possibility of freedom. Had the gods avoided evil, the world would be poor, without variety. For the sake of freedom the gods had to allow evil to enter the world, and for this reason they had to acquire the power enabling them to lead evil back again to good. This power is such it can only be acquired as a consequence of renunciation and resignation.

Religions always exist for the purpose of showing us the great cosmic mysteries in symbols, in imaginations. In this lecture we have alluded to primordial phases of evolution, and by adding the conception of resignation to those of sacrifice and of the bestowing virtue we have come a step further, from Maya and illusion into the realities. Conceptions such as these are presented to man in religions. And in that of the Bible there is something whereby man can acquire a conception of resignation, of the rejection of the sacrifice. That is the story of the sacrifice about to be made by Abraham who was ready to offer his own son to God, and of the renouncing by God of the sacrifice offered by the patriarch. If we take into our souls this conception of sacrifice, then intuitive visions such as those described, may come to us. On one occasion I suggested that we should suppose that the sacrifice of Abraham had been accepted, that Isaac had been sacrificed. As all the ancient Hebrew people are descended from him, God would then by accepting the sacrifice have taken this whole nation from the earth. Everything derived from Abraham was a gift of God through the renunciation of a sphere to be outside Himself; if He had accepted the sacrifice He would have taken into Himself the whole sphere which played its part within the ancient Hebrew people; for the sacrificed Isaac would have been with God. But He renounced this and therewith He gave over that whole line of evolution to the earth. Thus in the significant picture of the offering made by the old patriarch, the conception of renunciation and of sacrifice can arise within us.

And in yet another part of our earth-history do we find this resigning on the part of Higher Beings, and here too we must again refer to something alluded to in the last lecture—the picture of the ‘Last Supper,’ by Leonardo da Vinci. It represents the scene in which as it were, we have before us the meaning of the earth, the Christ. While trying to penetrate the whole meaning of the picture, let us recollect those words, which are to be found alone in the Gospel: ‘Am I not able to call forth a whole multitude of angels if I wish to avoid the death of sacrifice.’ That which Christ might have accepted at that moment, which would of course have been quite easy for Him to do, He rejected in resignation and renunciation. And the greatest renunciation made by Christ Jesus confronts us when, by having made it, He allows the opponent himself—Judas—to enter His sphere. If we are able to see in Christ Jesus all that is to he seen, we must see in Him an image of those Beings with whom, at a certain stage of evolution, we have just become acquainted, those who were compelled to renounce the proffered sacrifice, those whose very nature was resignation. Christ renounced that which would have occurred if He had not allowed Judas to appear as His opponent just as once upon a time, during the Sun-age, the gods themselves called forth their opponents by the renunciation they made. And we see a repetition of this event in a picture here on earth: that of the Christ seated among the twelve, and Judas, the betrayer, in the centre. In order that that which makes mankind of such immeasurable value might enter into evolution, Christ Himself had to place His opponent in opposition to Him. This picture makes such a profound impression on us because when we contemplate it, it reminds us of such a great cosmic moment; and when we recall the words: ‘He who dips his bread into the bowl with me, he it is who shall betray me,’ we see an earthly reflection of the opponent of the gods, placed in opposition to them by the gods themselves. For this reason I have often ventured to say that if an inhabitant of Mars were able to descend to the earth, he might find things which would be of more or less interest to him although he might perhaps not understand them properly; but as soon as he saw this picture by Leonardo da Vinci he would, through a certain position in the cosmos which has the same connection with Mars as with the earth, learn something which would teach him the meaning of the earth. The incident represented in the earthly picture is of significance to the whole Cosmos: that is the fact that certain powers place themselves in opposition to the immortal Divine power. And this representation of Christ surrounded by His Apostles, He who on the earth overcomes death and thus proves the triumph of immortality, is intended to point to that significant universal moment when the gods severed themselves from temporal existence and gained the victory over Time, that is they became immortal. When we contemplate the ‘Last Supper’ by Leonardo da Vinci, we may feel this in our hearts. Do not object that a person of simple mind may contemplate this picture and not know all that has been referred to to-day. It is not necessary that he should. For such are the mysterious depths of the human soul, that it is not necessary to understand with the intellect what the soul feels. Does the flower know the laws which regulate its growth? No! Yet none the less it grows. What does the flower want with laws or the human soul with intellect to feel the whole immeasurable greatness of the subject, when before our eyes we see depicted a God and His opponents; when the highest that can possibly be expressed, the opposition of immortality to the transitory is brought before our eyes. It is not necessary to know this; for it passes into the soul with magic force when one stands before this picture, which represents in painting an image of the cosmic purpose. The artist [is not required] to be an occultist in this sense in order to paint this picture. But in the soul of Leonardo da Vinci were precisely the necessary forces to enable him to express this, the highest and most significant. That is why great works of art make such a tremendous impression, because they are intimately connected with the purpose of the cosmic order. In earlier ages artists in dim consciousness were in touch with this cosmic purpose without being aware of it. Art would however, die out altogether if nothing were received by way of continuation of this, if, in the future Anthroposophy were not there as the knowledge of these things to give to art a new foundation. Subconscious art has become a thing of the past. The art which submits to the inspiration of Anthroposophy is only at its starting point, its beginning. This will be the art of the future. Just as the artist of old had no need to know what lay behind his works of art, so the artist of the future must know this—but knowledge with those forces which represent afresh an aspect of immortality, something of the perfection of the soul. For a man who uses Anthroposophy as an intellectual science knows nothing of it. That man alone understands who has made it his own, who in every conception that we evolve—sacrifice, bestowing virtue, resignation—is able to feel in every word what it is that is trying to burst forth in that word or idea, what at the most can flow forth in the many-sided significance of the pictures. If a man believes the evolution of the world is accomplished by means of abstract conceptions, he will perhaps make diagrams. If we wish to represent living conceptions such as sacrifice, or the virtue of bestowal and renunciation, diagrams are of no use; we must paint pictures in our minds like those described in the last lectures: of the Thrones offering sacrifice and sending up to the Cherubim the smoke of the sacrifice, ever spreading more widely and of the Archangels sending hack the light; and so on. And when in our next study we pass on to the Moon. existence we shall see how much richer the picture becomes, how something like the liquefying of the dammed up masses of cloud actually had to take place, and that this becomes drizzling rain, into which flashes the lightning of the Seraphim. We must then pass on to richer conceptions still with regard to which we must say: The future of mankind will certainly find the possibility, the artistic ways and means to convey to the consciousness and express to the outer world what can otherwise only be read in the Akashic Records.

In the last two lectures an endeavour was made to call attention to the fact that behind all the material phenomena of the substance of our earth something spiritual is to be sought. We endeavoured to describe the spiritual to be found behind the phenomenon of heat, and then that behind the phenomenon of flowing air. As, in order to do this, it was necessary to turn back to the very early ages of our evolution, we had to glance into our own soul-life to describe the spiritual conditions underlying matter. For it is obvious that the concepts by means of which anything is described must necessarily be drawn from somewhere. Words alone will not suffice; we must have quite definite conceptions. As we have seen, the spiritual conditions to which we referred are so far removed from anything experienced by man at the present time, or of which he can have knowledge—that we had to appeal to certain conditions in our soul-life, conditions by no means universal. We have seen that the deepest being of all conditions of heat and fire must be sought very far away from what we know as external physical fire or heat. To a man of the present day it must appear truly absurd that sacrifice should be recognised as the essence of all conditions of heat: a sacrifice made by very definite Beings to be met with on the old Saturn state of the Earth—the Thrones—who then brought their sacrifice to the Cherubim. And yet in truth we must say that a sacrifice such as possessed its starting point in the world-evolution, appears to us—although in maya or illusion—in all external conditions of heat or fire. In the last lecture we also recognised that behind all that we may call flowing air or flowing gas, there is something very far away, which we have called “the virtue of bestowal,” the devotional pouring forth by spiritual Beings of their own being. This is to be found in every breath of wind, in all flowing air. Thus what is perceived externally, physically, is in reality mere illusion, nothing but maya; and only when we progress from maya to the incorporeal, the spiritual, do we obtain the correct conception of fire and heat; for in fact fire, heat and light bear the same relation to the real world as does the reflected image of a man seen in a mirror to the person himself. For, just as the mirror presents merely an illusion in relation to the man, so in this sense, fire, heat and air are illusions; and the realities behind these bear the same relation to them as the real man to his reflection. We have to seek neither fire nor air in the world of reality, but sacrifice, and the virtue of bestowal.

When we saw the virtue of bestowal added to that of sacrifice we ascend from the life of ancient Saturn to that of ancient Sun. In the latter, the second cosmic embodiment of our earth, we find something which brings us a step nearer to the real conditions of our evolution. Yet another concept must be introduced to-day, which belongs to the world of reality as concerned with the world of illusion. But before passing to the actual conditions of evolution we must acquire a definite idea from the following.

When in his external life a man does something, accomplishes something, the impulse of his will as a rule underlies it. Whatever he does, be it the movement of a hand or the greatest of deeds, the impulse of the will underlies them. From his will proceeds everything that leads to an act, to an achievement. Now at first a man would say that a strong, forceful act, one for instance that is to bring about great healing and blessing, must proceed from a stronger impulse of will, while a less important act comes from a weaker impulse. And in general it is assumed that the greatness of the deed depends upon the strength of the impulse of the will. But only in a certain degree is it correct that as we intensify our will we accomplish great things in the world. From a certain point onwards that is no more the case. Certain deeds that man may do—particularly such as bear upon the spiritual world—do not, strange to say, now depend upon the strengthening of our impulses of will. In the physical world, in which we particularly live, the greatness of our deeds certainly does depend upon the strength of our impulses of will, for the more we wish to accomplish, the greater are the efforts we must make But in the spiritual world this is not so, there the opposite comes to pass. There it is the case that the greatest deeds, or, better said, the greatest results, do not necessitate any strengthening of the positive impulses of will, but far more a certain resignation, a renouncing. Take the very smallest purely spiritual facts. We do not attain any spiritual effects by bringing strong desires into play, or by bestirring ourselves as much as possible; no—in the spiritual world we attain certain results by controlling our wishes and desires, and renouncing all idea of satisfying them. Suppose a man has made up his mind to bring something about in the world by means of inner spiritual workings. To do this he would have to prepare himself by learning above all to suppress his own wishes and desires. For whereas in the physical world we grow stronger when we eat well, when we are well nourished and acquire greater strength thereby, so, in the spiritual world, when we wish to attain something important we can precisely do so with the greatest ease, if, by fasting or other means, we repress and control our wishes and desires; (this is only a statement, and not given by way of advice). The greatest spiritual, magical effects, always require preparation connected with the renunciation of wishes, desires, and impulses of will which may appear within us. The less we “will,” the more we say: We will allow life to flow over us, not longing for this or that, but accepting everything just as Karma sends it to us, the more we are able to accept Karma and its workings in this way, keeping quietly ready to renounce all that we should otherwise wish to choose for this life, the more forceful shall we become as regards the activity of our thinking. In the case of a teacher or tutor who is, above all things, fond of eating and drinking and has other masterful passions, it will be noticeable that his words to his pupils will not accomplish very much, his words will go in at one ear and out at the other. He will think that this is the fault of the pupils, but that is not always the case. A man who has begun to lead a higher life, who lives temperately, who only eats as much as is necessary to support life, who is determined to accept what destiny brings him with equanimity, will gradually notice that his words have great force; he will not even require to look at his pupils, but only to be near them and have encouraging thought without expressing it, and that thought will pass over to the pupil. It all depends on the degree of renunciation and self-denial he has acquired as regards the things usually desired by man.

The right path for spiritual activities intended to lead to spiritual effects in the higher worlds, is that of renunciation. In relation to this many delusions are met with, and delusions while resembling true renunciation, do not lead to the right results. We are all acquainted with what in ordinary life is called “asceticism,” self-inflicted suffering. In many cases the practice of this may be a spiritual self-indulgence, for a person may practise it in order to obtain great results, or from some other source of desire for self- satisfaction. In such cases asceticism produces no results; it is of no avail unless it is a sign of the renunciation rooted in the spirit. Let us then acquire the concept of the creative renunciation, the creative resignation. It is indeed of immense importance that we should accept this renunciation, this creative resignation, which we may experience in the soul, as a conception of something far removed from our everyday life; and then we are guided a step deeper into the evolution of humanity. For in the process of evolution something of the kind really does take place in the transition from the conditions of ancient Sun to those of ancient Moon. Something of the nature of renunciation takes place in the realm of the Beings of the higher worlds, for these Beings, as we know already, are connected with the process of the earth's development. At this juncture let us once again call to mind the ancient Sun evolution. But let us first give our attention to something else with which we are already familiar, but which may until now have appeared in some respects to be somewhat of an enigma.

We have repeatedly drawn attention to occurrences in evolution which must be traced back to those beings who have in the course of evolution “remained behind.” We know that the Luciferic beings have invaded the domain of our earth humanity. It has repeatedly been necessary to draw attention to the fact that these beings are able to enter our astral body during the development of our earth because they did not, during the evolution of the Moon, reach the stage they ought to have attained. A commonplace comparison has often been used, that as in our schools some pupils remain behind, so even in the great cosmic evolution there are cosmic beings who, remaining behind in the stages of their own evolution, subsequently interfere with the evolutionary stages of other beings, with a result similar to that produced by the Luciferic beings, who lingered behind on the ancient Moon. We might easily suppose these to be faulty beings actually injurious to the evolution of the world; for why did they linger behind? Such a thought might occur to us. The thought, however, which we should entertain is this: that man would never have attained his freedom, or the capacity for individual initiative action had not the Lucifer beings remained behind on the Moon. So that on the one hand man owes to the Lucifer beings the fact that he has in his astral body passions, emotions, and desires driving him constantly down from a certain height into lower pats of his nature. But, on the other hand, if man were incapable of wickedness, unable to err from good through the forces of the Lucifer beings in his astral body he could not act freely, or possess what we call freewill, freedom of choice. We must therefore admit that to the Luciferic beings we owe our freedom. The deduction to be drawn from this is that the one-sided view is not valid that claims that they only lead man astray; their remaining behind must be regarded as something beneficial, as something without which he could never have acquired his human dignity, in the true sense of the word.

Now what we call the “remaining behind” of the Luciferic and Ahrimanic beings is based on something much deeper, something already to be encountered in connection with ancient Saturn, although it is there so difficult to perceive that words could hardly be found in any language to describe it. But when we advance to the ancient Sun-existence, we are able to describe it quite distinctly if we bear in mind the idea of resignation or renunciation which we have to-day described. For what lies beneath all such remaining behind and all its influence is renunciation, resignation by higher Beings. So now, on the Sun we can see the following taking place. We have said that the Thrones, the Spirits of Will, offer sacrifice to the Cherubim; and this they do, as we have seen in the last lecture, not only during the Saturn period, but they continue their sacrifice through that of the Sun, so that there too we have the idea of the Thrones or Spirits of Will sacrificing to the Cherubim. In this sacrifice is to be found the actual essence of all the conditions of heat or fire present in the world. Now, if we look back into the Akashic Record of the Sun-age we can quite distinctly remark the following. The Thrones offer and continue their sacrificial activity; so that we have there the sacrificing Thrones and a host of Cherubim to whom, as we see, the sacrifice rises, while they take into themselves the heat which flows forth from it. However, another host of Cherubim accomplish something else; these renounce the sacrifice, they do not accept what is offered them. We must therefore complete the picture we called up before our minds in the last lecture.

In this picture we have the sacrificing Thrones and those Cherubim who accept their sacrifice, and we also have the Cherubim who do not accept it—but give back that which was offered up to them. It is extraordinarily interesting to follow this in the Akashic Record. For by reason of the bestowing virtue of the Spirits of Wisdom now flowing into the sacrificial heat we are able during the ancient Sun-period to see ascending something like sacrificial smoke of which we have said, that it is reflected back by the Archangels from the outermost periphery of the Sun, in the form of light. But now besides this, something altogether different seems to appear in the space of ancient Sun; not merely the sacrificial smoke thrown back by the Archangels in the form of light, but also that smoke which was not accepted by the Cherubim and which as it were flows back again, as though dammed back. So that we have permanent clouds of sacrifice in space; Sacrifice that ascends, Sacrifice that descends, Sacrifice accepted and Sacrifice rejected. The encounter of these intrinsically Spiritual cloud-formations is seen to take place between what in the last lecture we called the “outer” and the “inner,” until the separation occurs. Thus in the centre we have the sacrificing Thrones, then in the heights above the Cherubim accepting the sacrifice, and beside these, those other Cherubim who did not accept the proffered sacrifice, but diverted its course back again. Through this diversion arises, as it were, an encircling cloud, and right outside we have the cast-back masses of light. Let us try to form a picture of this in our minds. We must think of this ancient Sun-space, the ancient Sun-mass as a cosmic globe beyond which we conceive of nothing, so that we only imagine space extending as far as the Archangels. Let us further picture in the centre of this globular formation the meeting of the accepted and the rejected sacrifices. From these two, the accepted and rejected sacrifices, there comes into being in the ancient Sun something that we may call a division of the whole Sun-substance, a divergence. If we wish to compare the Sun in that bygone age with any external image, we can only compare it with the form of our present Saturn which is a globe encircled by rings; for that which is in the centre is thrown inwards by volumes of sacrifice and that which was outside is arranged as an encircling mass. Thus we have the Sun's substance divided into two parts by the force of the arrested and dammed up powers of the sacrifice.

What then is brought about by this renunciation of the sacrifice on the part of certain of the Cherubim?

We are now coming to an extremely difficult chapter indeed, and we shall only be able gradually to grasp, by means of meditation, what is comprised in the conceptions about to be set forth. Only after long and profound reflection upon the conceptions about to be given can we discern what the realities are that underlie them. That resignation of which mention has already been made, must be brought into connection with the origin of Time—the scene of which we have laid in ancient Saturn. Time, as we have seen, actually originated on ancient Saturn, with the Archai or Spirits of Time, and there is no sense in referring to Time previous to ancient Saturn. Now at the risk of repeating ourselves, we may say that Time continues. Continuity or Duration is a conception which contains Time within itself. Thus when we say that Time is continuous it means that when we observe Saturn and Sun in the Akashic records, on Saturn we find the origin of Time—and on the Sun we still find Time present. Now if all conditions remained as they were, as we described them in the last two lectures when speaking of Saturn and Sun, Time would then form an element in everything that happens in evolution. We could not in thought eliminate Time from any occurrence in evolution. We have seen that the Spirits of Time came into being on ancient Saturn, and that Time is implanted into everything. All that we have hitherto thought whether in pictures or in imagination concerning evolution we must bring into connection with Time. All that has taken place—sacrifice and the virtue of bestowal, which we have mentioned—would be subject to Time, nothing would not be subject to Time, which means that all arising and passing away which indeed pertains to Time, must be subject to it.

Now those Cherubim who renounced the acceptance of the sacrifice and of that which was, as it were, contained in the smoke of the sacrifice, did so because in so doing, they withdraw from the properties of this sacrificial smoke. And to these properties belongs, above all, Time, which includes “arising” and “passing away.” The whole renunciation of the sacrifice on the part of these Cherubim signifies that they had grown beyond the conditions of Time. These Cherubim extended beyond Time and withdrew from subjection to it. The combination of circumstances during the evolution of ancient Sun was such, that the sacrificing and the virtue of bestowal, which conditions continued in a direct line from Saturn, remain subject to Time; whilst others, brought about by the other Cherubim who renounced the acceptance of the sacrifice wrested themselves free, and chose Eternity, duration, permanence, the non-subjection to arising and passing away. This is in the highest degree remarkable: during the evolution of ancient Sun we come to a severance between Time and Eternity. Through the resignation made by the Cherubim during the Sun-evolution, Eternity was gained, as a property of certain conditions which then came about. Just as we saw, on looking into our soul, that in it certain effects were produced through the acquisition by man of the qualities of renunciation and resignation—so we see, speaking now of the ancient Sun alone, that eternity and immortality were acquired by certain divine Spiritual Beings, that they resigned the sacrifice and all that might have come to them from the virtue of bestowal and all its diffused gifts. Whereas we have seen Time coming into being on ancient Saturn, we have also seen certain conditions wresting themselves free from it during the Sun development. But we must take special care to note that this was prepared even during the Saturn-age; so that Eternity does not actually begin during the Sun-age. This can however, only be sufficiently clearly and distinctly observed so that it can be expressed in concepts, in the Sun-age: on Saturn the division between Time and Eternity is so faintly perceptible that our ideas and words do not prove precise enough to define anything of the sort for ancient Saturn and its evolution.

We have now learnt the significance of resignation, the renunciation made by the gods during the time of ancient Sun, and the attainment of immortality. What was the further consequence of this?

From the study of the book Occult Science which must in certain respects still be veiled in Maya, we learn that the evolution of ancient Moon followed that of ancient Sun, that at the close of the Sun-age all the existing conditions were immersed in a kind of twilight, in a sort of cosmic chaos, and emerged again as “Moon.” And we see the sacrifice reissuing in the form of heat. All that remained as heat on ancient Sun reappears as heat on the Moon; we see the virtue of bestowal reappearing as gas, or air. And the resignation also continues, the renunciation of the sacrifice; all that we have called “resignation” is within whatever takes place on ancient Moon. It is actually the case, that what we can ourselves experience as resignation we must think of in everything on ancient Moon, carried over from ancient Sun, and as we think of everything else in the external world. That which had been sacrifice reappears in Maya as Heat; and that which was bestowing virtue appears in Maya as gas or air. Resignation as it has now become appears in external Maya as Fluidity, as “Water.” “Water” is Maya and would not be in the world at all were it not that its spiritual foundation is renunciation, or resignation. Wherever water is to be found in the world there is divine-renunciation. Just as heat is an illusion behind which is sacrifice, and gas or air an illusion behind which is the virtue of bestowal, so is water as a substance, as an external reality, nothing but an illusion of the senses, a reflection; the only reality existing in it, is resignation by certain Beings of that which they receive from other Beings. It might be said, water could only flow in the world because resignation underlies it. Now, we know that while the Sun progressed to Moon, airy conditions condensed to watery conditions. Water first appeared on the Moon; on ancient Sun there was as yet no water. What we see gathering like clouds during the old Sun development coagulated as they interpenetrated each other, to denser substance, to “water,” and this appears on ancient Moon as the Moon-ocean.

If we bear this in mind it will at any rate be possible to grasp a question that may be raised. From resignation comes forth water; water is in literal truth resignation. We thus acquire a peculiar kind of spiritual insight into the actual nature of water. But now the question may be raised: is there after all a certain difference between the condition which would have arisen if the Cherubim had not made this resignation, and that which has actually come about through their having done so? Is this difference in any way conveyed? Yes, it is. It is conveyed in the fact that the consequences of that resignation appeared clearly during the Sun-State. If it had never been made, if the Cherubim had accepted the proffered sacrifice, they would—speaking figuratively—have had the sacrificial smoke as part of their own inner substance; what they themselves had done would have found expression in the smoke of the sacrifice. Suppose these Cherubim had accomplished this or that; this would have been apparent, it would have been outwardly expressed by the changing clouds of the air; that is to say: In the outer form of the air would have been expressed what the Cherubim who made no resignation did with the substance of the sacrifice. But they did reject it, and in so doing they passed from mortality to immortality, from a transitory state into a State of Duration. However, the substance of the sacrifice is there to begin with; it is released from the forces, so to speak, which would otherwise have absorbed it, and is now not obliged to follow the inclinations and impulses of the Cherubim; for they gave it up, they renounced it. What then happens to this substance of sacrifice? The following occurs: Other beings, because the sacrificial substance is not with the Cherubim, take possession of it, become independent of the Cherubim, self-reliant beings; whereas they would otherwise have been directed from the sacrificial substance within the Cherubim, if the latter had accepted it. Thus it became possible for the opposite of resignation to arise; in that certain beings attract to themselves the substance of the sacrifice that had been poured forth and become active within it. These beings are “they who remained behind”; “remaining behind” was therefore a consequence of the resignation made by the Cherubim. Through the very substance which they refused to accept, the Cherubim themselves first furnished backward beings with the possibility of staying behind. Through the rejection of a sacrifice, other beings who did not resign it, but give way to their wishes and desires and bring them to expression, were enabled to take possession of the object of the sacrifice, of the sacrificial substance, thereby attaining the possibility of taking their place as independent beings side by side with those who here were offering.

Thus, when evolution passed from ancient Sun to Moon, with the immortality of the Cherubim, the possibility was given for other beings to separate in their own substance from the progressive evolution of the Cherubim, generally speaking from the immortal beings. So now, when we learn the deeper reasons of the remaining behind, we see that the original fault—if we may venture to speak of such an original fault—did not lie with those who remained behind. This is the important point, which we must realise: If the Cherubim had accepted the proffered sacrifice, the Luciferic beings could not have remained behind; they would have had no opportunity of embodying themselves in that substance. To make it possible for beings to become thus independent, renunciation previously took place. Thus, in cosmic evolution it is the case that the gods themselves have called their opponents into being. If the gods had not renounced the sacrifice, beings would not have been able to oppose them. Put into simple words we may suppose the gods had foreseen as follows: “we merely go on creating as we have done from Saturn to Sun there would never be any free beings, capable of acting from their own initiative. In order that beings of this nature might come into existence, the possibility must be given for opponents to arise against us in the Universe, so that we should meet with resistance in that which is subject to time. If we ourselves ordain everything we shall meet with no such resistance. We could make everything very easy for ourselves by accepting the sacrifice offered to us; then would the whole of evolution be subject unto us. But this will not do, we want beings able to resist us. We will therefore not accept the sacrifice; so that through our resignation and because they accept the sacrifice, they become our opponents!”

So we see that we must not look for the origin of evil in the so-called “evil” beings, but in the “good” Beings, who, through their resignation first brought evil about through those beings who were able to bring it into the world. But now the following objection may easily be made (and I want you to let these thoughts work profoundly upon your souls): I have till now thought more highly of the gods! I have always believed them able to give freedom to man without creating the possibility of evil. How is it that all these “good gods” could not produce something like human freedom without bringing evil into the world In this connection I should like to remind you of that Spanish King who considered the world dreadfully complicated, and who said on one occasion that if God had allowed him to create it he would have made it much simpler—Man in his weakness may think that the world might have been made simpler than it is, but the gods knew better and therefore they did not leave it to man to create the world.

From the standpoint of scientific perception, we might describe these circumstances more accurately. Suppose something required supporting and the suggestion were made that a column might be erected and the weight rested on that. This person in question might say: “There must be some other way of doing it!” Why, indeed, should it not be done in some other way? Or again, when a triangle is made use of in building, it might be said: Why should a triangle have only three angles a Perhaps a god might make a triangle not having three angles? There would be just as little sense in thinking of a triangle without three angles, as in supposing that the gods might have created freedom without the possibility of evil and suffering. Just as three angles are necessary to a triangle, so the possibility of evil, given by the resignation of Divine Beings, is necessary to freedom. It all forms part of the Divine resignation, for the gods created evolution out of immortality, after they had through their renunciation or sacrifice, ascended to immortality, in order to lead back evil again to good. The gods did not shrink from the evil, which alone could give the possibility of freedom. Had the gods avoided evil, the world would be poor, without variety. For the sake of freedom the gods had to allow evil to enter the world, and for this reason they had to acquire the power enabling them to lead evil back again to good. This power is such as can only be acquired as a consequence of renunciation, resignation.

Religions always exist for the purpose of showing us the great cosmic mysteries in symbols, in imaginations. In this lecture we have alluded to primordial phases of evolution, and by adding the conception of resignation to those of sacrifice and of the bestowing virtue we have come a step further from Maya and illusion into the realities. Conceptions such as these were presented to man in religions. And in that of the Bible there is something whereby man can acquire a conception of resignation, of the rejection of the sacrifice. That is the story of the sacrifice about to be made by Abraham who was ready to offer his own son to God, and of the renouncing by God of the sacrifice offered by the patriarch. If we take into our souls this conception of sacrifice, then intuitive visions such as those described may come to us. On one occasion I suggested that we should suppose that the sacrifice of Abraham had been accepted, that Isaac had been sacrificed. As all the ancient Hebrew people are descended from him, God would then by accepting the sacrifice have taken this whole nation from the Earth. Everything derived from Abraham was a gift of God through the renunciation of a sphere which is outside Himself; if He had accepted the sacrifice He would have taken into Himself the whole sphere which played its part within the ancient Hebrew people; for the sacrificed Isaac would have been with God. But He renounced this and therewith He gave over that whole line of evolution to the earth. Thus in the significant picture of the offering made by the old patriarch, the conception of renunciation and of sacrifice can arise within us.

And in yet another part of our earth-history do we find this resigning on the part of Higher Beings, and here too we must again refer to something alluded to in the last lecture—the picture of the “Last Supper,” by Leonardo da Vinci. It represents the scene in which as it were, we have before us the meaning of the earth, the Christ. While trying to penetrate the whole meaning of the picture, let us recollect those words, which are to be found in the Gospel: “Am I not able to call forth a whole multitude of angels if I wish to avoid the death of sacrifice?” That which Christ might have accepted at that moment, which would of course have been quite easy for Him to do, He rejected in resignation and renunciation. And the greatest renunciation made by Christ Jesus confronts us when, by having made it, He allows the opponent himself—Judas—to enter His sphere. If we are able to see in Christ Jesus all that is to be seen, we must see in Him an image of those Beings with whom, at a certain stage of evolution, we have just become acquainted, those who must renounce the proffered sacrifice, those whose very nature was resignation. Christ renounced that which would have occurred if He had not allowed Judas to appear as His opponent just as once upon a time, during the Sun-age, the gods themselves called forth their opponents by the renunciation they made. So we see a repetition of this event in a picture here on earth: that of the Christ seated among the twelve, and Judas, the betrayer, in the centre. In order that that which makes mankind of such immeasurable value might enter into evolution, Christ Himself had to place His opponent in opposition to Him. This picture makes such a profound impression on us because when we contemplate it, it reminds us of such a great cosmic moment; and when we recall the words: “He who dips his bread into the bowl with me, he it is who shall betray me,” we see an earthly reflection of the opponent of the gods, placed in opposition to them by the gods themselves. For this reason I have often ventured to say that if an inhabitant of Mars were able to descend to the earth, he might find things which would be of more or less interest to him although he might perhaps not understand them properly; but as soon as he saw this picture by Leonardo da Vinci he would, through a cosmic position which has a connection with Mars just as with the earth, learn something which would teach him the meaning of the earth. The incident represented in the earthly picture is of significance to the whole Cosmos: the fact that certain powers place themselves in opposition to the immortal Divine powers. And this representation of Christ surrounded by His Apostles, He who on the earth overcomes death and thus proves the triumph of immortality, is intended to point to that significant universal moment when the gods severed themselves from temporal existence and gained the victory over Time, that is, they became immortal. When we contemplate the “Last Supper” by Leonardo da Vinci, we may feel this in our hearts. Do not object that a person of simple mind may contemplate this picture and not know all that has been referred to to-day. It is not necessary that he should. For such are the mysterious depths of the human soul, that it is not necessary to understand with the intellect what the soul feels. Does the flower know the laws which regulate its growth? No! yet none the less it grows. What does the flower want with laws or the human soul with intellect to feel the whole immeasurable greatness of the subject, when before our eyes we see depicted a God and His opponents; when the highest that can possibly be expressed, the opposition of immortality to the transitory is brought before our eyes. It is not necessary to know this; for it passes into the soul with magic force when one stands before this picture, which represents in painting an image of the cosmic purpose. The artist did not require to be an occultist in this sense in order to paint this picture. But in the soul of Leonardo da Vinci were precisely the necessary forces to enable him to express this, the highest and most significant. That is why great works of art make such a tremendous impression, because they are intimately connected with the purpose of the cosmic order. In earlier ages artists in dim consciousness were in touch with this cosmic purpose without being aware of it. Art would, however, die out altogether, there would be no continuation, if in the future Anthroposophy were not there as the knowledge of these things to give to art a new foundation. Subconscious art has become a thing of the past. The art which is inspired by Anthroposophy is only at its starting point, its beginning. This will be the art of the future. Just as the artist of old had no need to know what lay behind his works of art, so the artist of the future must know this—but with those forces which represent a kind of immortality, something from the full contents of the soul. For a man who uses Anthroposophy as an intellectual science knows nothing of it. That man alone understands who has made it his own, who in every conception that we evolve—sacrifice, bestowing virtue, resignation—is able to feel in every word what it is that is trying to burst forth in that word or idea, what at the most can flow forth in the many-sided significance of the pictures. If a man believes the evolution of the world is accomplished by means of abstract conceptions, he will perhaps make diagrams. If we wish to represent living conceptions such as sacrifice, or the virtue of bestowal and renunciation, diagrams are of no use; we must paint pictures in our minds like those described in the last lectures: of the Thrones offering sacrifice and sending up to the Cherubim the smoke of the sacrifice, ever spreading more widely and of the Archangels sending back the light; and so on. And when in our next study we pass on to the Moon-existence we shall see how much richer the picture becomes, how something like the liquefying of the dammed up masses of cloud actually had to take place, and that this becomes drizzling rain, into which flashes the lightning of the Seraphim. We must then pass on to richer conceptions with regard to which we must say: The future of mankind will certainly find the possibility, the artistic ways and means to express to the outer world what can otherwise only be read in the Akashic Records.

It affords me great pleasure to speak at greater length for the third time to our friends in Norway and I should like to say briefly, in response to the cordial greetings of our friend Mr. Eriksen, that I reciprocate them in an equally cordial and heartfelt manner.

I hope that the course of lectures, which I am about to undertake, will contribute in some degree to the general understanding of Anthroposophy. In the course of these lectures I should like to draw your attention to the fact that they must of necessity incorporate much that touches upon the fundamental truths of Spiritual Science and, at the same time, something that, as yet, is rather remote from man's thinking today. I therefore beg especially those of our friends who are less familiar with the wider questions of Anthroposophy to bear in mind that we should not make progress in our field of investigation if, from time to time, we did not repeatedly take a great leap forward into those regions of spiritual knowledge which are really somewhat remote from the thinking, feeling and perception of man today.

From this point of view it will sometimes be necessary to ask you to accept what I shall have to say with a certain amount of good-will, since to provide the necessary evidence and proof for my statements in the forthcoming lectures would demand more time than I have at my disposal. We should not break new ground in this sphere if I did not appeal to a modicum of good will in you and to your sympathetic spiritual understanding. Indeed the province we touch upon here is one which hitherto has been more or less eschewed particularly by occultists, mystics and theosophists, and has been eschewed for the very reason that greater objectivity is necessary if we are to accept the information I propose to offer without occasionally arousing a certain degree of opposition.

Perhaps the implications of this will be best understood if you recall that at a certain stage of mystic or occult development one is called a ‘homeless man’. This is a technical expression. And if we wish to characterize without further ado—since we are not discussing the path of knowledge—what we understand by the term ‘homeless man’ we may briefly say that a ‘homeless man’ is one whose understanding and grasp of the great laws of humanity cannot be influenced by whatsoever a person acquires through association with his native country. Furthermore, a ‘homeless man’ is one who is able to identify himself with the great laws of human evolution without allowing the particular shades of feeling and sentiment associated with his native country to colour his outlook. It follows then that a certain degree of maturity in mystical and occult development demands an unprejudiced attitude towards our heritage that we justifiably consider to be an inestimable boon and which, on the other hand, in relation to the individual human life, we describe as the mission of the individual Folk Spirits who, by drawing upon the hidden roots and the spirit of the individual peoples make their individual concrete contributions to the collective mission of humanity.

We propose therefore to describe this heritage from which the ‘homeless man’ must liberate himself to some extent. Now the ‘homeless men’ of all times, from primeval ages down to our own day, have always known that if they were to describe in detail the state of homelessness they would meet with little understanding. In the first place the voice of prejudice would reproach them for having severed their connection with their native soil, for having sacrificed their heritage. This is not so, however. In reality, homelessness is, or may be, a detour, so that, once this sanctuary, the state of homelessness, has been reached, the ‘homeless man’ may rediscover the quintessence of the folk and achieve a harmonious relationship with the stable element in the evolution of mankind. From the outset it is necessary to draw attention to this. On the other hand, we have every reason, especially at the present time, to speak quite impartially about the mission of the individual, Folk Souls. Just as it was justifiable to maintain complete silence about their mission hitherto, so it is in order today to begin to speak of this mission. It is particularly important because the destiny of mankind in the near future will bring men together in far greater measure than has hitherto been the case in order to fulfil a mission common to all mankind. But the members of the individual peoples will only be able to offer their proper, free and positive contributions if they have, above all, an understanding of their ethnic origin, an understanding for what we might call “the self-knowledge of the folk”. The injunction “Know thyself!” played an important part in the Apollonian Mysteries of ancient Greece. In the not too distant future the following injunction will be addressed to the Folk Souls: “Know yourselves as Folk Souls.” This maxim will have a certain significance for the activity of mankind in the future.

Now in our age it is particularly difficult to admit the existence of Beings who are inaccessible to sense perception. Today, however, we may be more prepared to acknowledge that certain members of man's being are super-sensible and invisible. The idea that beings such as man, who at least in their external aspect can be apprehended physically, may also have invisible, super-sensible members will be more readily accepted by the modern materialist outlook. But it is asking a great deal of our present age to believe in the existence of beings who, from the ordinary point of view, have no reality. For what is meant by the term Folk Soul or Folk Spirit which one hears from time to time? At best it is something that is acknowledged to be a common characteristic peculiar to hundreds and millions of people concentrated in a certain geographical area. It is difficult to persuade the man of today that, in addition to the teeming millions in this area, a living reality exists there, a reality that he would find to be identical with the conception of the Folk Spirit and which underlies this conception. If we were to ask—to take a case that is non-controversial—what do we understand today by the Swiss Folk Spirit, we would describe in abstract terms a few characteristics peculiar to the people inhabiting the Swiss regions of the Alps and Jura. It would be perfectly clear to us that this description bears no relation to anything that might be known through external cognition. The first steps towards the understanding of this living reality is the frank admission that it is possible to envisage the existence of real Beings who are not immediately perceptible to the senses; that there exist amongst the beings perceptible to the senses other Beings invisibly at work, who express themselves through visible beings just as the human being expresses himself through his fingers and hands. We may therefore speak of a Swiss Folk Spirit in the same way as we speak of the Spirit of a man. We can just as clearly distinguish between the Spirit of man and his ten fingers which are organs of this Spirit as we can distinguish the Swiss Folk Spirit from the millions of people living in the mountains of Switzerland. The Folk Spirit is something quite different from the people, but nevertheless a spiritual Being, just as man himself is a spiritual being. The difference between man and the Folk Spirit is that man's external form is known through the medium of the senses. Whilst the human being is known through sense-perception, a Folk Spirit has no external manifestation; it is not something that can be known through sense-experience or sensory impressions and yet it is unmistakably a real Being.

Today we shall endeavour as far as possible to form an idea of such a Being. How do we proceed in Spiritual Science if we wish to form an idea of a real Being? I propose to illustrate this by a characteristic example. First, we study the being of man. From the point of view of Anthroposophy we distinguish the physical body, etheric body, astral or sentient body and ‘I’ or ego which we look upon as the highest member. We know therefore that the man of the present day consists of these bodies. Now you already know that we look forward to an evolution of mankind in the future and that the ego works upon the three lower members of the human being, spiritualizes them and transmutes them from the present lower form into the higher form of the future. The ego will transmute the astral body into Manas or Spirit Self, so that it becomes something different from what it is today. In the same way, at a higher level, the ego will refashion and transmute the etheric or life-body into Life Spirit or Buddhi. Finally the highest achievement of man that we can envisage at present is the spiritualisation of the physical body, the most intractable member of his being. When our present physical body, the densest and most material member, is transmitted into Atma or Spirit Man it will be the highest member of man's being. Thus we are familiar with three members of the human organism which were developed in past epochs, the organism in which we are at present incarnated and three others which the ego will fashion into something new in the future.

Between the initial development of the higher members in the past and their further development in the future there lies an intermediate stage. We know that we must think of the ego itself as inwardly organized. The ego works upon a kind of intermediate being. Therefore, between the astral body which man has inherited from the past and the Spirit Self or Manas which he will fashion out of the astral body in the distant future, there are the three preparatory members; the Sentient Soul, the lowest member in which the ego has already worked, the Intellectual or Mind Soul and the Spiritual or Consciousness-Soul. But very little of Spirit Self or Manas that we are in process of developing is present in man today, at most only the first indications. On the other hand ‘ man has laid the foundations of this future development by having learnt to control his three lower members to some extent. He learned to control the astral body by permeating it with his ego and forming the Sentient Soul within it. Just as the Sentient Soul stands in a certain relationship to the sentient body, so does the Intellectual Soul or Mind-Soul to the etheric body, so that the Intellectual or Mind-Soul is a feeble foreshadowing of what the Life Spirit or Buddhi will be—a feeble foreshadowing, it is true, but none the less a foreshadowing. And in the Spiritual Soul (or Consciousness-Soul) the ‘I’ has worked down into the physical body to a certain extent. Therefore the Spiritual Soul is a feeble foreshadowing of what will one day be Spirit Man or Atma. Thus, apart from the limited transformation of his astral body which he has already achieved as a first step towards the development of Spirit Self or Manas, we recognize in man today four different members. We can distinguish:

• the physical body,
• the etheric body,
• the astral body,
• the ego that works within them, and further as a foreshadowing of the higher members:
• the Sentient Soul,
• the Intellectual or Mind-Soul,
• the Spiritual Soul or Consciousness-Soul.

Such is man as we know him today; such is our understanding of man at the present stage of his evolution. We clearly see the ego fashioning the higher members after the Sentient, Intellectual and Spiritual Souls have already prepared the ground. We see the ego working with the forces of the Sentient, Intellectual and Spiritual Souls upon the astral body, upon the embryo of Spirit Self. We see man participating in this stage of his development.

Those of you—no doubt the majority of you—who have concerned yourselves with researches into the Akashic Record, with the evolution of man in the primeval past and the prospect for the distant future, will know that man, such as I have portrayed him in the brief sketch I have given you, has evolved. We can look into a distant past when man required long epochs of time for his evolution in order to prepare the foundations, first for his physical body, then for the etheric body and finally for the astral body, and then to develop these three members further. You will also be aware, no doubt, that man did not complete the earlier evolution of his being, the evolution of his astral body, for example, at a time when the Earth was in the same condition as it is today, but that he developed his astral body in an earlier Earth cycle, the Old Moon epoch. Just as we recognize that our present life is the consequence of earlier incarnations, so too do we realize that the Earth itself has known earlier incarnations. The Sentient Soul and the Intellectual Soul were first created during our present Earth epoch, the astral body during the epoch of the Old Moon, the etheric body in a still earlier stage, that of the Old Sun, and the physical body during ancient Saturn. Thus we look back to three incarnations of the Earth and in each of these incarnations we see one of the members which man bears within him today implanted first as a seed and then perfected further.

In speaking of Old Saturn, Old Sun and Old Moon conditions another factor must be borne in mind. We human beings (on Earth) are now living through the stage of self-consciousness which other Beings under-went during the earlier stages of our Earth-evolution, the stages of Old Moon, Old Sun and Old Saturn. It is immaterial whether we adopt the terminology of the East or the more familiar terminology of the West in order to describe these Beings. Those Beings who underwent their human stage on Old Moon and who therefore are one stage above Man were called in Christian esoteric terminology, Angeloi or Angels. They are one stage higher than man because they completed their stage of human evolution one epoch earlier. Their mode of existence on the Old Moon differed from that of man on Earth today. They were Beings at the human stage, but were not incarnated in a physical body. Their stage of evolution corresponded to the human stage which man is experiencing today. In the same way we find Beings of a higher order who underwent their human stage on the Old Sun. These Beings are the Archangeloi or Archangels who are two stages beyond man and who underwent their human stage two epochs earlier. If we go still further back to the first incarnation of our Earth-existence, to Old Saturn, we find that those Beings whom we called the Spirits of Personality or Archai underwent their human stage on Old Saturn. If we take our starting-point from those Beings who were men in the primeval past, on Old Saturn, and follow the incarnations of the Earth down to our own time, we have a picture of the stages of evolution of the various Beings down to the present day. To summarize: the First Beginnings, the Archai, were men on Old Saturn, the Archangels or Archangeloi were men on Old Sun, the Angels or Angeloi were men on Old Moon and men are men on our Earth.

Since we know that we continue our evolution into the future and that we further develop our present astral body, etheric or life-body and our physical body, the question arises: is it not equally natural that the Beings who have already experienced the human stage have now reached the stage when they are transmuting their astral body into Spirit Self or Manas? Just as during the next incarnation of the Earth, the Jupiter stage, we shall complete the transmutation of our astral body into Spirit Self or Manas, so the Angeloi who underwent the human stage on Old Moon have completed the transmutation of their astral bodies into Spirit Self or Manas, or will do so during our Earth evolution, a stage that we shall first have to undergo in the next incarnation of the Earth. If we look still further back to the Beings who underwent the human stage on Old Sun, we realize that they already experienced on Old Moon the stage we shall have to experience for the first time in the next incarnation of the Earth. They are performing the work which will be the prerogative of man when, in his ego, he transmutes his etheric or life-body into Life Spirit or Buddhi. These Archangels, therefore, are Beings who are two stages beyond man; they have reached the stage that will one day be ours when from within our ego, we shall transform the life-body into Life Spirit or Buddhi. When we contemplate these Beings, we recognize them as Beings who are two stages beyond ourselves, who foreshadow what we ourselves will experience in the future; they are Beings who are now working upon their etheric or life-body and are transmuting it into Life Spirit or Buddhi. In the same way we are aware of yet higher Beings, the Spirits of Personality (Archai). They are at a still higher stage than the Archangels, a stage which man will reach in a still more distant future when he will be able to transmute his physical body into Atma or Spirit Man.

As surely as man is at the present stage of development, so surely are these higher Beings at the respective stages of development which I have just characterized. We doubt their reality as little as we doubt their superiority to ourselves. Now this reality is not unrelated to our life on Earth; it penetrates into it and acts upon it. The question now is: what form does the activity of these higher Beings take? In order to understand this, we must bear in mind that from a spiritual aspect the activity of such Beings will be different from that of man today. Indeed there is a considerable difference between these Beings who are higher than man and those who are now only at the human stage. Strange as this may seem, it will become perfectly clear to you in the course of the following lectures. True spiritual investigation shows that man, such as we know him today, is, to a certain extent, at an intermediate stage of his existence. His ego will not always work upon his lower vehicles in the same way as it does today. The whole human entity at the present time is to some extent an interrelated whole and forms, as it were, an unbroken unity. This situation will be considerably modified in the future evolution of mankind. When ultimately man will have developed so far that he will be able to work upon his astral body in full consciousness and, by means of his ego, transmute his astral body into Spirit Self or Manas, then he will experience in full consciousness a condition akin to the unconscious or subconscious state of man during sleep.

Consider for a moment the condition of man in sleep. His astral body and ego relinquish his physical and etheric bodies which he leaves behind in the bed, and float outside them. Now imagine that in this condition man awakens to self-consciousness, that he is as fully conscious in his spiritual body as in his waking life. How remarkable would be man's impression of himself! At one moment he would feel: “Here am I; below me, perhaps some distance away, are lying my physical and etheric bodies which are part of me, whilst I with my other members am floating outside and above them.” If, at the present time, man becomes conscious in his astral body, i.e. outside his physical and etheric bodies, then he is limited to the free and random movements of his astral body and can be active in the world independently of his physical body, activities which are denied to his physical and etheric bodies. In the distant future, however, he will be able to direct them from outside—for example, from a place in the north of Europe to some other place; he will be able to command their movements and direct them externally. That is not yet possible at present, but it will be a possibility when he has evolved from the stage of Earth-evolution to that of Jupiter, the next stage in the evolution of man. We shall then feel that we can direct ourselves from without. That is the essential step. And this implies a transformation of man's present condition. Here materialistic consciousness is at a loss. It is unable to realize that the spiritual activities now at work to some extent in the external world will also be active within the human being at some future time.

Such phenomena exist already and man could perceive them if only he would give heed to them. He would then see that there are certain entities, for example, who have developed prematurely. Just as man, if he waits for the appropriate moment, will attain the Jupiter state at the right time so that he will then be able to direct his physical and etheric bodies, so there are beings who in a certain respect have developed prematurely. Such prematurely developed beings are to be found amongst the birds, especially the migratory birds. Here we have an example of the group-soul to which the etheric body of each individual bird is related. Just as the group-soul directs the regular migrations of birds, so will man, after he has developed Spirit Self or Manas, command his physical and etheric bodies; he will control and direct them. He will do this in a still higher sense from without when he has so far perfected himself that he is still in the process of transmuting his etheric or life-body. The Beings who can already do this today are the Archangels or Archangeloi. They are Beings who can already do what man will be able to do some day, Beings who are able to compass what is called ‘directing the physical and etheric bodies from without’, but who are able at the same time to work upon their own etheric body.

Try to form an idea of Beings living and working as it were with their ego in the spiritual atmosphere of our Earth, whose ego has already transformed the astral body and who with their fully developed Spirit Self or Manas continue to work on our Earth and into human beings, transforming our etheric or life body; Beings who are themselves at the stage of transmuting their etheric or life-body into Buddhi or Life Spirit. If you imagine such Beings who are at the Archangel stage among the spiritual Hierarchies, you will then have an idea of what are called the “Folk Spirits”, the directing Folk Spirits of the Earth. The Folk Spirits belong to the rank of the Archangels or Archangeloi. We shall see how they, for their part, direct their own etheric or life-body, and how they thereby work down into mankind and thus draw mankind into the sphere of their own activity. If we survey the various peoples on Earth and select out individual examples, then we see in the life and activity of these peoples, in the characteristic attributes peculiar to these peoples, a reflection of what we regard as the mission of the Folk Spirits.

When we recognize the mission of these Beings—for they are inspirers of the nations—we are then able to say what a nation really is. A nation is a homogeneous group of people directed by one of the Archangels. All that the individual members of a nation perform or undertake is inspired by them, i.e. the Archangels. Hence if we can conceive that these Folk Spirits, like human beings, betray individual differences, we shall have no difficulty in understanding that the individual peoples reflect the Particular mission of their individual Archangels. If we have a Clear mental picture of how in the history of the world nation succeeds nation, how peoples work side by side, we can then imagine, at least theoretically—and we shall have more and more concrete evidence in the following lectures—how all these changing circumstances are inspired by these spiritual Beings. But at the same time it will be clear to us that, in addition to this activity of successive peoples, something else takes place in human evolution. In the period of time which we reckon from the beginning of the great Atlantean catastrophe and which so completely changed the face of the Earth that the continent which lay between the Africa, America and Europe of today was submerged, one can distinguish the epochs of the post-Atlantean cultures—the old Indian, the Persian, the Egypto-Chaldean, the Graeco-Latin and our present culture which in the course of time will pass over into the sixth cultural epoch. We also realize that various inspirers of the peoples have successively been at work in these civilizations. We know that the Egypto-Chaldean civilization continued long after the Greek civilization had begun, and that this in its turn perished after the birth of the Roman Civilization. We are in a position therefore to observe the coexistence and continuity of the peoples.

But in addition to the evolution of the peoples and all that is associated with their evolution, a progressive evolution of mankind takes place. Whether we consider one particular civilization to be superior to another is of no consequence. To express a preference for the old Indian culture is a matter of personal opinion. But he who is not swayed by personal opinions will be indifferent to value judgments. Human progress follows ineluctably upon the necessary course of events, although some may later regard this as a decline. When we compare the various periods, 5,000 BC, 3,000 BC and AD 1,000 we are aware of the existence of something that transcends the Folk Spirits, something in which the several Folk Spirits participate. You can observe this at the present time. How is it that so many persons are able to sit together in this hall, people who have come here from many different countries and who understand each other or try to understand each other when they touch upon vital questions that have brought them together here? They come from the spheres of activity of widely different Folk Spirits and yet they have some common ground of understanding. In the same way various people were able to understand one another in Atlantean times because in every age there is something that transcends the Folk Soul, which can bring the various Folk Souls together, something that is more or less universally understood. This is the Zeitgeist or Time Spirit, the Spirit of the Age, to use an unfortunate term which is in common usage. Each epoch has its particular Zeitgeist; the Zeitgeist of the Greek epoch is different from that of our own age. Those who understand the Spirit today are drawn towards Spiritual Science. It is this Spirit which, reflecting the Spirit of the Age, transcends the individual Folk Souls. At the time when Christ Jesus appeared on Earth, His forerunner John the Baptist characterized the Spirit, which might be described as Zeitgeist, in these words: “Repent, change your mental attitude, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”

Thus for every epoch we can discover the Spirit of the Age, which is something that permeates the activity of the Folk Spirits, an activity we have already described as the activity of the Archangels. To the materialist of today the Spirit of the Age is an abstraction, devoid of reality; still less would he be prepared to accept the Spirit of the Age as an authentic entity. Nevertheless the term ‘Spirit of the Age’ conceals the existence of a real Being, who is three stages above man. It conceals the identity of the Beings, the Archai, who underwent their human stage on Old Saturn and who at the present time are working from the spiritual aura of the Earth at the transformation of the Earth and are thus undergoing the last stage in the transformation of their physical body into Spirit Man or Atma. We are here dealing with exalted Beings and the contemplation of their attributes might well overwhelm us. They are the Beings who might be described as the inspirers—or if we choose to use the technical expression of occultism—the “intuitors” of the Spirit or Spirits of the Age. They work in such a way that they take over from one another and mutually support each other. From epoch to epoch they pass on their mission to their successor. The Spirit of the Age who was active in the Greek epoch handed on his mission to his successor, and so on. As we have already observed, there are a number of such Time Spirits, of such Spirits of Personality who work as Spirits of the Age. These Spirits of Personality, these inspirers of the Spirit of the Age, are of a higher order than the Folk Spirits. In every epoch one of these Spirits of Personality is predominant and sets his seal upon the whole epoch, assigns to the Folk Spirits their specific tasks, so that the whole spirit of the epoch is determined by the special or individual characteristics of the Folk Spirit. Then, in the following epoch, another Spirit of Personality, another of the Archai, takes over.

After a certain number of epochs have elapsed, a Spirit of the Age has evolved further. We must picture this in the following way: when we die, having completed our present stage of evolution, our personality transmits the achievements of this Earth-life to the next Earth-life. The same holds good for the Spirits of the Age. In each Age we have one such Spirit of the Age, and at the end of the epoch he hands over to his successor, who, in his turn, hands over to his successor, and so on. The earlier Spirits, meanwhile, continue their own development. Then the original Spirit takes over again, so that in a later epoch, whilst the others are proceeding with their own evolution, he takes over again and infuses intuitively into mankind what he himself has acquired for his higher mission, for the benefit of the more developed humanity. We look up to these Spirits of Personality, to these Beings who may be characterized by the somewhat colourless term ‘Spirit of the Age’. Now we human beings pass from incarnation to incarnation; but we know for certain that, whilst we ourselves progress from epoch to epoch, when we look into the future, we see ever different Spirits of the Age determining events on Earth. But our Spirit of the Age will return too and we shall meet him once again. Because a characteristic feature of these Spirits of Personality is to perform cyclic revolutions and return to their starting-point, they are therefore called “Spirits of Cyclic Periods”. (We shall justify the use of this expression by giving further details later.) These higher Spiritual Beings then who issue their commands to the Folk Spirits are also called Spirits of Cyclic Periods. We are here referring to those cyclic periods which man himself has to go through when from epoch to epoch he returns to earlier conditions and repeats them in a higher form. Now this repetition of the characteristics of earlier forms may surprise you. If you examine carefully the stages of man's evolution on Earth in the light of Spiritual Science, you will find that these occurrences recur in many different forms. Thus the seven consecutive epochs following upon the Atlantean catastrophe which we call the post-Atlantean culture-epochs, are a repetition. The Graeco-Latin epoch marks the turning point in our cycle and will not therefore be repeated. This stage is followed by a repetition of the Egypto-Chaldean epoch in our own age. This will be followed by a repetition of the Persian epoch, but in a somewhat different form. Then will follow the seventh epoch which will be a repetition of the ancient Indian civilizations the epoch of the Holy Rishis, so that in this coming epoch certain aptitudes which had been implanted in ancient India will reappear in a new form. The direction of these occurrences devolves upon the Spirits of the Age.

In order that, distributed amongst the various peoples of the Earth, the progressive development of successive epochs may be realized, in order that the widely differing ethnic types may be moulded by a particular geographical area or community of language, in order that a particular form—language, architecture, art or science may flourish and their various metamorphoses receive all that the Spirit of the Age can pour into mankind—for this we need the Folk Spirits, who, in the hierarchy of higher Beings, belong to the Archangels.

Now we require yet another intermediary agent between the higher missions of the Folk Spirits and those beings here on Earth who are to be inspired by them. You will readily perceive at least theoretically at first, that the mediator between the two different kinds of Spirits is the Hierarchy of the Angels. They are the intermediaries between the single human being and the Archangel of the folk. In order that the individual may receive into himself that which the Folk Spirit has to pour into the whole people, in order that the single human being may be instrumental in fulfilling the mission of his people, this intermediary agent between the human being and the Archangel of his people is indispensable.

Thus we have looked up to the Beings who attained their human stage three stages above man and have noted how they placed themselves consciously at the service of mankind and influenced our Earth-evolution. In the next lecture we propose to show how far the activity of the Archangels working down from above, from within their Ego which has already developed Manas or Spirit Self and is perfecting the etheric or life-body of man, is expressed in the achievements, attributes and character of a people.

Man is directly associated with the work of the higher Beings, for, as a member of a nation, he is an integral part of it. It is true that man is, in the first place, an individual, a creation of his Ego being; but he is not only an individual, he is also a member of a particular people, something over which, as an individual, he has no control. As a member of a particular people the individual has no choice but to speak the language of his people. He does not acquire this by his own efforts, it does not stem from his individual initiative, it is the legacy of his inheritance. Individual human progress is something totally different. As we watch the life and activity of the Folk Souls, we must bear in mind what is involved in the progress of man and what is demanded of him in order to achieve it. We shall see what determines not only his own particular development but also the development of wholly different Beings.

Thus we see how man is integrated into the ranks of the Hierarchies, how, from age to age, from epoch to epoch, Beings whom we already know from another aspect, cooperate in his evolution, And we have seen how opportunities are provided for these Beings to express themselves in a variety of ways peculiar to themselves and that what they have to offer can be imparted to man.

The guiding principles of the several epochs are determined by the Time Spirits (Zeitgeister). The single folk-individualities are responsible for disseminating the Spirit of the Age over the whole Earth. Whilst the Time Spirits inspire the Folk Spirits, the Angels act as mediators between the Folk Spirit and the single human beings, so that these individuals may fulfil the mission of the Folk Spirits. One of the purposes of these lectures will be to show how this wonderful pattern reveals the working of the various folk-individualities, past and present. In the next lecture we shall begin to throw light upon how this pattern is woven which we have indicated only sketchily today, that spiritual pattern which represents our immediate destiny in the world.

The thoughts contained in the last lecture will in that form have seemed to many incomprehensible, perhaps even matters of doubt; but if we go further into the subject to-day they will become clearer.

What was it that was presented to us in the last lecture? For the whole being of man it was somewhat similar to what a man accomplishes when he is in some position in life where he has to reflect upon earlier occurrences and experiences, and call them back into his memory. Memory and remembrance are experiences of the human soul which, in ordinary consciousness, are really connected only with the course of the soul's life between birth and death—or more exactly, with the period of time which begins in the later years of childhood and lasts until death.

We know that in ordinary consciousness our memory goes back only to a definite point of time in our childhood, and we have to be told about earlier events by our parents, elder relations or friends. When we consider this stretch of time, we speak of it in relation to the soul-life as “remembered.” It is not, of course, possible here to go more deeply into the meaning of the words “power of remembering”or “memory,” nor is it necessary for our purpose. We need only bring clearly before our souls that everything designated by these words is bound up with reflecting on past events or experiences. What we spoke of in the last lecture is akin to this reflecting, but it must not be equated with ordinary memory; it should be regarded rather as a higher, wider power of memory which leads us beyond this present incarnation to a sense of certainty that we have had previous earth-lives.

If we picture a man who needs to recall something he learnt at an early period of his life, and attunes his soul to bring out of the depths what he then learnt in order to follow it through in the present—if we form a living conception of this process of recollection, we see in it a function which belongs to our ordinary faculty of remembrance. In the last lecture we were speaking of functions of the soul, but those functions ought to lead to something that arises in our inner being in relation to our earlier earth-life, similar to that which arises in our souls in this life when we feel a past experience springing up in memory. Therefore you must not regard what was said in the last lecture as though this were all that is needed to lead us to an earlier earth-life, nor as though it were able immediately to evoke a right conception of the kind of people we were in an earlier incarnation. It is only an aid, just as self-recollection is an aid, helping us to draw forth what has disappeared into the background of the soul's life. Let us briefly sum up what we have grasped concerning such a recollection in reference to a former earth-life. This can best be done in the following way:

A little self-knowledge will render many of life's happenings comprehensible to us. If something disagreeable happens and we do not fully see the reason for it, we may say to ourselves: “I really am a careless person, and it is no wonder this happened to me.” This shows at least some understanding of what has happened. There are, however, countless experiences in life of which we simply cannot conceive that they are connected with the forces and faculties of our soul. In ordinary life we usually speak of them as accidental. We speak of accidents when we do not perceive how the things that befall us as strokes of fate are connected with the inner leanings of our soul, and so forth. In the last lecture attention was drawn also to events of another kind—experiences through which in a sense we extricate ourselves, by means of what we generally call our Ego, from some situation we are in. For example: a man may be destined by his parents or near relations to a certain calling or position in life, and he feels he must at all costs leave it and do something else. When in later life we look back on something like this, we say to ourselves: “We were put into a certain position in life, but by our own impulse of will, by our personal sympathy or antipathy, we have extricated ourselves from it.”

The point is not to pay attention to all manner of things, but to confine ourselves in our retrospective memory to something that vitally affected our life. If, for instance, a man has never felt any desire, nor had any motive to become a sailor, a will-impulse such as was referred to in the last lecture does not come into consideration at all, but only one whereby he actually brought about a change of fate, a reversal of some situation in life. But when in later life we remember something of this kind and realise that we extricated ourselves, we should not cultivate any rueful feelings about it, as though we ought to have stayed where we were. The essential point is not the practical outcome of the decision, but the recollection of when such turning points occurred. Then with regard to events of which we say, “This happened by chance,” or “We were in such and such a position but have extricated ourselves from it,” we must evoke with utmost energy the following inner experience.

We say to ourselves: “I will imagine that the position from which I extricated myself was one in which I deliberately placed myself with the strongest impulse of will.” We bring before our own souls the very thing that was repugnant to us and from which we extricated ourselves. We do this in such a way that we say: “As an experiment I will give myself up to the idea that I willed this with all my might; I will bring before my soul the picture of a man who willed something like this with all his might.”

And let us imagine that we ourselves brought about the events called “accidents.” Suppose it has come back to our memory that at some place a stone fell from a building on to our shoulders and hurt us badly. Then let us imagine that we had climbed on to the roof and placed the stone so that it was bound to fall, and that then we ran quickly under it so that it had to fall on us. It is of no consequence that such ideas are grotesque; the point is what we want to acquire through them.

Let us now put ourselves right into the soul of a man of whom we have built up such a picture, a man who has actually willed everything that has happened to us “by accident,” who has desired everything from which we have extricated ourselves. There will be no result in the soul if we practise such an exercise two or three or four times only, but a great deal will result if we practise it in connection with the innumerable experiences which we shall find if we look for them. If we do this over and over again, forming a living conception of a man who has willed everything that we have not willed we shall find that the picture never leaves us again, that it makes a very remarkable impression on us, as though it really had something to do with us. If we then acquire a certain delicate perception in this kind of self-probation, we shall soon discover how such a mood and such a picture, built up by ourselves, resemble an image we have called up from memory. The difference is only this, that when we call up such an image from memory in the ordinary way, it generally remains simply an image, but when we practise the exercises of which we have been speaking, what comes to life in the soul has in it an element of feeling, an element connected more with the moods of the soul, and less with images. We feel a particular relationship to this picture. The picture itself is not of much account, but the feelings we have make an impression similar to that made by memory-images. If we repeat this process over and over again, we arrive through an inner clarification at the ‘knowledge,’ one might say, that the picture we have built up is becoming clearer and clearer, just as a memory-image does when one starts to recall it out of dark depths of the soul.

Thus it is not a question of what we imagine, for this changes and becomes something different. It goes through a process similar to that which occurs when we want to remember a particular name and it nearly comes and then goes; we have a partial recollection of it and then say, for instance, Nuszbaumer, yet we have a feeling that this is not quite right, and then, without our being able to say why, the right name comes to us—Nuszdorfer, perhaps. Just as here the names Nüszbaumer, Nüszdorfer, build each other up, so the picture rights itself and changes. This is what causes the feeling to arise: “Here I have attained something which exists within me, and by the way it exists within me and is related to the rest of my soul-life, it plainly shows me that it cannot have existed within me in this form in my present incarnation!” So we perceive with the greatest inner clarity that what exists within us in this form, lies further back. Only we must realise that we are here dealing with a kind of faculty of remembrance which can be developed in the human soul, a faculty which, in contradistinction to the ordinary faculty of remembrance, must be designated by a different name. We must designate the ordinary faculty of remembrance as “image-memory,” but the faculty of remembrance now in question must really be described as a kind of “feeling and experience memory.” That this has a certain foundation can be proved by the following reflections.

We must bear in mind that our ordinary faculty of remembrance is really a kind of image-memory. Think how a specially painful event that perhaps happened to you twenty years ago, reappears in memory. The event may come up before you in all its details, but the pain which you suffered is no longer felt to the same extent; it is in a sense blotted out of the memory-image. There are, of course different degrees, and it may well happen that something has struck a man such a blow that again and again a fresh and more intense sorrow is felt when he remembers the experience. The general principle, however, holds good: so far as our present incarnation is concerned our faculty of remembrance is an image-memory, whereas the feelings that were experienced, or the will-impulses themselves, do not arise again in the soul with anything like the same intensity.

We need only take a characteristic example and we shall see how great the difference is between the image that arises in the memory, and what has remained of feelings and will-impulses. Let us think of a man who writes his Memoirs. Suppose, for example, that Bismarck, in writing his Memoirs, has come to the point when he prepared for the German-Austrian War of 1866, and imagine what may have taken place in his soul at that highly critical point, when he led and guided events against a host of condemnations and will-impulses. Do not conceive how all this lived in his soul at that time, but imagine that all he then experienced under the immediate impression of the events, sank down into the depths of his soul; then imagine how faded the feelings and will-impulses must have become by the time he wrote his Memoirs compared with what they were when he was actually carrying out the project. Nobody can fail to realise what a difference there is between the memory-image and the original feelings and will-impulses involved.

Those who have gone a little way into Anthroposophy will understand what has often been said: that our conceptual activity—including the conceptual activity related to memory—is something which, when roused by the external world in which we live in our physical bodies, has meaning only for this single incarnation. The fundamental principles of Anthroposophy have always taught us the great truth that all the concepts and ideas we make our own when we perceive anything through the senses, when we fear or hope for anything in life—(this does not relate to impulses of the soul, but to concepts)—all that makes up our conceptual life disappears very soon after we have passed through the Gate of Death. For concepts belong to the things that pass away with physical life, to the things that are least enduring. Anyone, however, who has given any study to the laws of reincarnation and karma can readily understand that our concepts, as we acquire them in the life that flows on in relation to the outer world or to the things of the physical plane, come to expression in speech, and that we can therefore in a sense connect the conceptual life with speech. Now everyone knows that he has to learn to speak some particular language in a given incarnation; for while it is obvious that many modern schoolboys incarnated in ancient Greece, none of them find it easier to learn Greek by being able to remember how they spoke Greek in a previous incarnation! Speech is entirely an expression of our conceptual life, and their fates are similar; so that concepts drawn from the physical world, and even the concepts we must acquire about the higher worlds, are in a sense always coloured by subjective pictures of the external world. Only when we have insight do we realise what concepts are able to tell about the higher worlds. What we learn directly from concepts is also in a sense, bound up with life between birth and death. After death we do not form concepts as we form them here; after death we see them, they are objects of perception; they exist just as colours and tones exist in the physical world. In the physical world what we picture to ourselves by means of conceptions carries an impress of physical matter, but in the disembodied state we have concepts before us in the same way as here we have colours and tones. A man cannot, of course, see red or blue as he sees them here with his physical eyes, but what he does not see here, and about which he forms concepts, is the same for him after death as red, green or any other colour or sound is here. What we learn to know in the physical world purely through concepts, or rather ideas (in the sense of Philosophy of Spiritual Activity) can be seen only through the veil of the conceptual life, but in the disembodied state it stands there in the way that the physical world stands before our consciousness. In the physical world there are people who really think that sense-impressions yield everything. That which man can make clear to himself by means of a concept—as for instance the concept ‘lamb’ or wolf—embraces everything the senses give us; but that which transcends matter can actually be denied by those who admit the existence of the sense-impression only. A man can make a mental picture of all he sees as lamb or wolf. Now the ordinary outlook tries to suggest that what can here be built up in a conceptual sense, is nothing more than a “mere idea.” But if we were to shut up a wolf and for a long time feed him on nothing else but lamb, so that he is filled with nothing but lamb-substance—nobody could possibly persuade himself that the ‘wolf’ has thereby become ‘lamb.’ Therefore we must say: obviously, here, what transcends a sense-impression is a concept. Certainly, there is no denying that what bodes forth the concept, dies; but what lives in ‘wolf,’ what lives in ‘lamb’—what is within them and cannot be seen by the physical eyes—this is ‘seen,’ perceived, in the life between death and rebirth.

Thus when it is said that conceptions are bound up with the physical body, we must not infer that man will be without conceptions, or rather without the content of the conceptions in the life between death and rebirth. Only that which has worked out the conceptions, disappears. Our conceptual life, as we experience it here in the physical world, has significance only for the life of this incarnation. In this connection I have already mentioned the case of Friedrich Hebbel, who once sketched out in his diary an ingenious plan for a drama. He had the idea of the reincarnated Plato in a school class, making the worst possible impression on the teacher and being severely reprimanded because he could not understand Plato! Here, too, is a suggestion that Plato's thought-structure—all that lived in him as thought—does not survive in the same form in his next incarnation.

In order to obtain a reasonable view of these things, we must consider the soul-life of man from a certain point of view. We must ask ourselves: What do we carry about as the content of our soul-life? First, we have our concepts. The fact that these concepts, permeated with feeling, can lead to impulses of will, does not prevent us from speaking of a specific life of concepts in the soul. For although there are people who can hardly confine themselves to a pure concept but immediately they conceive anything flare up in sympathy or antipathy, thus passing over into other impulses, this does not mean that the life of concepts cannot be separated from other contents of the soul.

Secondly, we have in our soul-life experiences of feeling. These appear in a great diversity of forms. There are the well-known antitheses in the life of feeling which can be spoken of as the sympathy and the antipathy we feel for things, or, if we want to describe them more emphatically, as love and hate. We can say that these feelings produce a kind of stimulus, and again there are feelings which bring about a certain tension and release. They cannot be classed with sympathy and antipathy. For a soul-impulse which can be described as a tension, a stimulus, or as a release, is different from what comes to expression in mere sympathy or antipathy. We should have to talk for a long time if it were a question of describing all the different kinds of feelings. To these also belong what may be described as the sense for beauty and for ugliness, which is a specific soul-content and does not resemble feelings of sympathy and antipathy. At all events it cannot be classed with them. We could also describe the specific feelings we have for good or evil. This is not the time to enlarge upon the difference between our inner experiences regarding a good or evil action, and the feelings of sympathy or antipathy for such actions—our love of a good action and hatred of an evil one. Thus we meet with feelings in the most diverse forms and we can distinguish them from our concepts.

A third kind of soul-experiences are the impulses of will, the life of will. This again must not be classed with what may be called experiences of feeling, which can or must remain enclosed within our soul-life, according to the way in which we experience them. An impulse of will says: " You shall do this, you shall do that." For we must distinguish between the mere feeling we have of what seems good or evil to ourselves or to others, and what arises in the soul as more than a feeling, when we are impelled to do good and to refrain from evil. Judgment can remain rooted in feeling but the impulses of will are a different matter. Although there are transitions between the life of feeling and the impulses of will, we ought not on the basis of ordinary observation to class them together without further consideration. In human life there are transitions everywhere. Just as there are people who never arrive at pure conceptions but always express simultaneously their love or hatred, who are thrown hither and thither because they cannot separate their feelings from their conceptions, so there are others who, when they see something, cannot refrain from going on, through an impulse of will, to an action, even if the action is unjustifiable. This leads to no good. It takes the form of kleptomania and so forth. Here there is no ordered relationship between the feelings and the impulses of the will, although in reality a sharp distinction should be drawn between them.

Thus in our life of soul we live in ideas, in feelings and in impulses of will. We have seen that the life of ideas is connected with a single incarnation between birth and death; we have seen how we enter life and build up our own life of ideas. This is not the case with the life of feeling, or with the life of will. Of those who insist that it is, one can only think that they can never have observed intelligently the development of a child. Consider a child in relation to the life of ideas before it can speak; it relates itself to the surrounding world through its conceptions or ideas. But it has very decided sympathies and antipathies, and active impulses of will for or against something. The decisiveness of these early will-impulses has actually misled a philosopher—Schopenhauer—into the belief that a man's character cannot be altered at all during life. This is not correct; the character can be altered. We must realise that when we enter physical life the position as regards the feelings and the impulses of will is in no way the same as it is regarding the life of concepts, for we enter an incarnation with a very definite equipment of feeling experiences and impulses of will. Correct observation might indeed make us surmise that in the feelings and will-impulses we have something that we have brought with us from earlier incarnations. And all this must be brought together as a ‘feeling-memory’ in contradistinction to the ‘concept-memory’ which belongs to one life only. We can arrive at no practical result if we take into account only a concept-memory. All that we develop in the life of concepts cannot call forth an impression which, if rightly understood, says to us: You have within you something which entered this incarnation with you at birth. For this we must go beyond the life of concepts; recollection must become something different, and we have shown what recollection can indeed become. How do we practise self-recollection? We do not merely picture to ourselves: “This was accidental in our life, such and such a thing befell us, there we were in a position of life which we abandoned,” and so forth. We must not stop at the concepts; we must make them living, active, as if there stood before us the picture of a personality who had desired and willed all this. We must experience ourselves in this willing. This is a very different experience from that of merely recalling concepts; it is an experience of living oneself into other soul-forces, if I may put it in that way.

This practice of drawing on will and desire in order to fill the soul with a certain content—a practice that has always been known and cultivated in all occult schools—is confirmed by what we know from anthroposophical or similar knowledge of the life of thinking, feeling and willing, and can be understood and explained thereby. Let us be quite clear that in giving a specific content to the life of feeling and will we must develop something which resembles memory-concepts, but does not stop there. It is something which enables us to develop another kind of memory—one that gradually leads us beyond the life enclosed in one incarnation between birth and death.

It must be strongly emphasised that the path here indicated is absolutely good and sure—but full of renunciation. It is easier to imagine on all sorts of external grounds that one has been Marie Antoinette or Mary Magdalene, or somebody like that in a former incarnation. It is more difficult by the methods described to construct out of what actually exists in the soul a picture of what one really was. For this reason we have to renounce a good deal, for we can readily be deceived. If someone says: “But we may be simply imagining it all,” then we must answer: “Yes, and it is also quite possible to imagine something in relation to our memories that never existed.” All these things are no real objections. Life itself can provide a criterion for distinguishing real imagination from fancy.

Somebody once said to me in a town in South Germany that everything in my book Occult Science might be based on simple suggestion. He said suggestion could be so vivid that one could even imagine lemonade so strongly that the taste of it would be in the mouth; and if such a thing is possible, why should it not be possible for what is present in Occult Science to be based on suggestions—Theoretically such an objection may be raised, but life brings the reflection that if anyone wishes to show by the example of lemonade how strongly suggestion can work, we must add that he has not understood how to carry the idea to its logical conclusion. He ought to try not only to imagine lemonade, but to quench his thirst with purely imaginary lemonade! Then he would see that it cannot be done. It is always necessary to carry our experiences to their conclusion, and this cannot be done theoretically but only by direct experience. With the same certainty by which we know that what arises from our memory-concepts is something we have experienced, so do the impulses of will we have called forth with regard to the accidents and undesired happenings arise from the depths of the soul as a picture of earlier experiences. We cannot disprove the statement of anyone who says: “That may be imagination,” any more than we can disprove theoretically what numerous people imagine they have experienced and quite certainly have not, nor prove to them what it is they really experienced. No theoretical proof is possible in either case.

We have shown in this way how earlier experience shines into present experiences, and how through careful soul-development we really can create for ourselves the conviction—not only a theoretical conviction but a practical conviction—that our soul reincarnates; we come to know that it has existed before. There are, however, experiences of a very different kind in our lives—experiences of which, when we recall them in memory, we must say: “In the form in which they appear, they do not explain an earlier life to us.” To-day I shall give an example of only one kind of such experiences, although the same thing may happen in a hundred, in a thousand, different ways.

A man may be walking in a wood, and being lost in thought may forget that the woodland path ends within a few steps at a precipice. Absorbed in his problem, he walks on at such a pace that in two or three steps more it will be impossible for him to stop, and he will fall over to his death. But just as he is on the verge, he hears a voice say, “Stop!” The voice makes such an impression upon him that he stops as though nailed to the spot. He thinks there must be someone who has saved him. He realises that his life would have been at an end if he had not been pulled up in this way. He looks round—and sees nobody.

The materialistic thinker will say that owing to some circumstance or other an auditory hallucination had come from the depths of the man's soul, and it was a happy chance that he was saved in this way. But there may be other ways of looking at the event; that at least should be admitted. I only mention this to-day, for these ‘other ways’ can only be told, not proved. We may say: ”Processes in the spiritual world have brought it about that at the moment when you reached your karmic crisis, your life was bestowed on you as a gift. If things had gone further without this occurrence, your life would have been at an end; it is now as though a gift to you, and you owe this new life to the Powers who stand behind the voice.”

Many people of the present time might have such experiences if they would only practise real self-knowledge. Such occurrences happen in the lives of many, many people in the present age. It is not that they do not happen, but that people do not pay attention to them, for such things do not always happen so decisively as in the example given; with their habitual lack of attention, people overlook them. The following is a characteristic example of how unobservant people are of what happens around them.

I knew a school inspector, in a country where a law was passed to the effect that the older teachers, who had not obtained certain certificates, were to be examined. Now this school inspector was an extremely human person, and he said to himself: " The young teachers fresh from college can be asked any question, but it would be cruel to ask the older men who have been in office for twenty or thirty years the same questions. I had better question them about the contents of the books from which they have taught the children year after year," And lo!—most of the teachers knew nothing of what they themselves had been teaching to their pupils. Yet this man was an examiner who understood how to draw out of people what they knew.

This is only one example of how unobservant people are of what takes place around them, even when it concerns their own affairs. We need not then be surprised that things of this kind happen to many people in life, for only by a true, deliberate self-perception do they come to light. If we bring the proper devout attitude to bear on such an event we may experience a very definite feeling—the feeling that from the day our life was given to us as a gift, its course from then onwards must assume a special direction. That is a good feeling, and works like a memory-process when we say to ourselves: “I had reached a karmic crisis; there my life ended.” If a man steeps himself in this devout feeling, he may experience something that makes him realise: “This is not a memory-concept such as I have often experienced in life—it is something of a very special nature.”

In the next lecture I shall be able to speak more fully of what can only be indicated to-day; for this is how a great Initiate of modern times tests those whom he thinks fit to be his followers. For the events which are to take us into the spiritual world proceed from spiritual facts which happen around us, or from a right understanding of them. And such a voice, calling as it does to many people, is not to be regarded as a hallucination; for through such a voice the leader whom we call by the name of Christian Rosenkreuz speaks to those whom he chooses from among the multitude to be his followers. The call proceeds from that Individuality who lived in a special incarnation in the 13th century. So that a man who has an experience of this kind has a sign, a token of recognition, through which he can enter the spiritual world.¹

There may not be many as yet able to recognise this call, but Anthroposophy will work in such a way that, if not in this incarnation, later on men will give heed to it. With most people who have such an experience to-day it is not completed in the sense that one can say of them in this incarnation: “They have met the Initiate who has appointed them his own.” One could say it rather of their life between their last death and their present birth. This is an indication that something happens in the life between death and rebirth; that we experience there important events—perhaps more important than in our life here between birth and death. It may happen, and in individual cases it does, that certain persons now belonging to Christian Rosenkreuz came to him in a former incarnation, but for most people the destiny that is reflected in such an event occurred in their last life between death and rebirth.

I am not saying this to recount something sensational, nor even for the sake of relating this particular occurrence, but for a special reason; and I should like to add something else in this connection, from an experience I have often had in our Movement. I have often found that things I have said are easily forgotten, or retained in a different form from that in which they were said. For this reason I sometimes emphasise important and essential things several times over, not in order to repeat myself. Therefore to-day I repeat that there are many people at the present time who have passed through an experience such as has been described. The point is not that the experience is not there, but that it is not remembered, because proper attention has not been paid to it. Therefore this should be a consolation to those who say to themselves: “I find nothing of the kind, so I do not belong to those who have been chosen in this way.” They can have the assurance that there are countless people at the present time who have experienced something of the kind—I reaffirm this only in order that the real reason for saying these things may be understood.

Such things are told in order to draw our attention again and again to the fact that in a concrete sense, and not through abstract theories, we must find the relation of our soul-life to the spiritual worlds. Anthroposophical Spiritual Science should be for us not merely a theoretical conception of the world, but an inner life-force; we should not merely know, “There is a spiritual world to which man belongs,” but as we go through life we should not only take account of things which stimulate our thinking through the senses, but should grasp with comprehension the connections which show us: “I have my place in the spiritual world, a definite place.” The real, concrete place of the individual in the spiritual world—that is the essential point to which we are calling attention.

In a theoretical sense men try to establish that the world may have a spiritual element, and that man is not to be considered in a materialistic sense, but may have a spiritual element within him. Our particular conception of the world differs from this, for it says to the individual: “This is your special connection with the spiritual world.” More and more we shall be able to ascend to those things which can show us how we must view the world in order to perceive our connection with the Spirit of the Great World, the Macrocosm.

• 1. See the volume entitled Christian Rosenkreuz. Notes of lectures given during the years 1911 and 1912.

Since we can meet so seldom, it will perhaps be good to touch upon some things today which are less suited to the written word, and may therefore be communicated better by word of mouth. They deal with Anthroposophy in its direct contact with life. Anthroposophists will indeed often be confronted by the question—What is the position of Anthroposophy in regard to those who are not yet able to see in to the spiritual worlds through clairvoyant consciousness? For essentially the spiritual-scientific content of these communications has been received, taken in and imparted out of clairvoyant investigation.

It must be emphasised again and again however in regard to this point that everyone who hears of the facts and relationships which can be investigated and imparted out of clairvoyant knowledge will be able to comprehend them with his healthy human understanding. For when the facts which have been found by clairvoyant consciousness are once there, and can be put before us, they can be grasped and understood by the logic inherent in every ordinary human being, if only his judgement is sufficiently unprejudiced.

Yet we may ask—"Is there really nothing, are there not certain facts in normal human existence, certain experiences in our ordinary life, which in themselves point to the statements of spiritual investigation concerning a spiritual world which lies at the foundation of our physical one and all its phenomena?" Yes, there are many facts in ordinary life of which it may be said that man would never be able to grasp them, if he knew nothing of the existence of a spiritual world, although naturally he must at first accept them.

Today we shall begin by pointing out two experiences of human life, occurring in ordinary normal consciousness, which must simply remain inexplicable, if we do not acknowledge the existence of a spiritual world.

They are well known to us in daily life, but are as a rule not put in the right light; for were they rightly considered, there would be no necessity for a materialistic world-conception. Let us therefore place before our souls the first of these two facts, and let us do so in such a way that we start from the simplest occurrences in daily life.

If someone is confronted by a fact which he cannot explain with the concepts which he has hitherto acquired, he is thrown into a state of wonder. To give a quite concrete example of this—someone who sees an automobile or a train in motion for the first time in his life will quite certainly be greatly astonished, because within his soul the following thoughts will arise (although soon such things will no longer be anything unusual, even in the interior of Africa).—"Judging by all that I have experienced heretofore, it appears quite impossible that something can rush along through the air without anything in front of it by which it is drawn. Nevertheless I see that it rushes along without being drawn! This is truly amazing".

Thus all that man does not yet know calls forth wonder within him, whereas what he has already seen does so no longer. Only those things which he cannot connect with earlier experiences in life astonish him. Let us keep this truth of everyday life clearly before our minds and compare it with another fact which is also very remarkable. Man is indeed brought in contact with a great many things in daily life which he has never seen before, but which nevertheless he accepts without being amazed. There are innumerable events of this kind. And what sort of events are they?

Now it would indeed be very amazing if, under ordinary conditions, someone who had heretofore been sitting quietly in his chair were to feel himself suddenly beginning to fly up into the air through the chimney! This would certainly be very amazing, and yet if such a thing occurs in a dream, we take part in it without feeling any wonder at all. And we experience even more extraordinary things in dreams at which we are not at all astonished, although they cannot in any way be connected with the occurrences of daily life. In waking-life we are already astonished if someone is able to leap very high into the air, yet in dreams we fly and are not in the least surprised. Thus we are confronted by the fact that, while we are awake, we wonder at things which we have not experienced before, whereas in dreams we do not wonder at all.

The second fact to which we shall turn our attention, as an introduction to what is to follow, is the question of conscience. When man acts—and in the case of someone who has a finer feeling for things, even when he thinks,—something stirs within him which we call conscience. And this conscience is quite independent of what these events may mean in the outer world. We may have done something, for instance, which is very profitable for us, and nevertheless our conscience may condemn it. When conscience is aroused, everyone feels that something streams into the judgement of the deed which has nothing to do with its usefulness. It is like a voice which speaks within us—"You should really have done that" or "You ought not to have done it!" Here we stand before the reality of conscience, and we know how strong the warning power of conscience can be, and how it can pursue us throughout life; and we know furthermore that the existence of conscience cannot be denied.

Now let us turn again to the phenomena of dreams, and we shall see that we do the most extraordinary things, which, were we to do them in waking life, would cause us the most terrible stings of conscience. Everyone can confirm for himself out of his own experience that he does things in dreams without the least prick of conscience, which would unquestionably evoke its warning voice, were he to do them in waking-life.

These two realities—amazement, or wonder, and conscience—are strangely enough eliminated in dreams. Man is accustomed to let such things pass by unnoticed; nevertheless they throw light deep into the foundation of our existence.

In order to clarify these things a little more I should like to point out still another fact which is concerned less with conscience and more with wonder. In ancient Greece the saying arose that all philosophy springs from amazement, from wonder. The experience which lies concealed in this sentence—and it is the experience of the ancient Greeks which is meant—cannot be traced in the most ancient times of Greek development. It is to be found in the history of philosophy only from a certain point of time onward. The reason for this is that in more ancient times men did not yet feel in this way. But how does it happen that from a certain time onward, just in ancient Greece, men begin to realise that they are amazed? We have just seen that we are amazed at what does not fit into our life as we have known it hitherto; but if we have only this amazement, the amazement of ordinary life, there is nothing particular in it other than astonishment at the unusual. He who is astonished at the sight of an automobile or a train is not accustomed to see such things, and his astonishment is nothing more than the astonishment at the uncustomary. Far more worthy of wonder, however, than astonishment at motor-cars and railways, at all that is unusual, is the fact that man can also begin to wonder at the usual. Consider for instance how the sun rises every morning. Those who are accustomed to this in their ordinary consciousness are not amazed at it. But when amazement begins to arise over everyday things which we are quite used to see, philosophy and knowledge result. Those who are richest in knowledge are men who can feel wonder over things which the ordinary human being simply accepts, for only then do we become true seekers after knowledge; and it is out of this realisation that the ancient Greeks originated the saying—All philosophy springs from wonder.

But now, what of conscience? Here again it is interesting that the word “conscience”—in other words the concept, for quite clearly only when the mental image arises, does the word also appear—is likewise only to be found from a certain time onward in ancient Greece. In the more ancient Greek literature, around the time of Aeschylus, it is impossible to find any word which could be translated as “conscience.” Yet we find such a word used among the younger Greek authors, by Euripides for instance. Here we can see, as distinctly as if a finger pointed to it, that conscience—just as the amazement at what is customary—is something which was only known after a certain point of time in Greek history. What appeared after this point of time as the stirring of conscience, was something quite different among the more ancient Greeks. For in these earlier times man did not feel pangs of conscience when he had done wrong. He still had a primitive elementary clairvoyance; and were we to go back to a time only shortly before the beginning of the Christian era, we should find that everybody still possessed this primitive clairvoyance. If at that time someone had done wrong, he had no pangs of conscience, but a daemonic form appeared to his ancient clairvoyance and tormented him, and these beings were called Erinnys and Furies. Only when man had lost the capacity whereby he could see these daemonic forms, did he develop the power to feel conscience as an inner experience, when he had done wrong.

We must now ask ourselves what such facts can show us, and what actually happens in the ordinary feeling of amazement, as experienced, for instance, by a savage from the uncivilized regions of Africa, were he to be brought to Europe and to see trains and motor-cars being driven about. The appearance of his amazement presupposes that something now enters his life which was formerly not there, something which he has seen before in quite another form.

If now a more developed human being feels the need to explain certain things, to explain occurrences of everyday life, because he is able to wonder even at such simple events, this likewise presupposes that at some earlier time he has seen them quite differently. No one would ever have reached another explanation of the sunrise than that of mere appearances—that it is the sun which rises—if in his soul he did not feel that he had seen it differently in former times. But the sunrise, someone might well object, we have seen occurring in a similar way from our earliest youth; would it not seem to be downright foolishness to fall into amazement because of it? The only explanation for this is that, if we are nevertheless seized with amazement, we must have experienced it before under entirely other conditions, quite differently from to-day. For if Anthroposophy says that man existed in a different state between the time of his birth and a previous life, then his amazement at such an everyday occurrence as the accustomed sunrise is nothing other than an indication of this former condition, in which he also perceived the sunrise, but in a different way—without bodily organs. There he perceived it with spiritual eyes and with spiritual ears. And in the moment when, guided by a dim feeling, he says to himself—“You stand before the rising sun, before the foaming sea, before the sprouting plant, and you are filled with wonder!“ ... then in this amazement there lies the knowledge that he once perceived all this in another way than with his physical eyes. It was with his spiritual organs that he saw it before he entered the physical world. He feels dimly that everything appeared differently when he saw it before. And this was and can be due only to himself, to his own experience, before his birth.

Such facts force us to realize that knowledge would be altogether impossible if man did not enter this earthly life out of a previous super-sensible existence. Otherwise there would be no explanation of wonder and the knowledge resulting from it. Of course man does not remember in distinct mental images what he experienced differently before birth, but although it does not show itself clearly in thought it lives nevertheless in his feelings. Only through initiation can it be brought down as a clear memory.

But now let us investigate why we do not wonder in dreams. Here we must first answer the question—What then is dream in reality.—Dream is an ancient heritage from former incarnations. Within these earlier incarnations man passed through other states of consciousness of a clairvoyant nature. Later on, during the further course of evolution he lost the capacity to see clairvoyantly into the soul-spiritual world. He had first a shadowy kind of clairvoyance, and his development gradually took its course out of this former shadowy clairvoyance into the clear waking consciousness of our present day, which could evolve in the physical world in order, when fully developed, to ascend once more into the psychic spiritual world with the capacities thus won by his Ego in waking consciousness. But what did man win in olden days through ancient clairvoyance? Something is still left of it—namely, our dreams. But dreams differ from ancient clairvoyance inasmuch as they are an experience of the man of modern times; who has developed a consciousness which bears within it the impulse for knowledge. Dreams, as the remnant of a former state of consciousness, do not contain the desire for knowledge, and this is why man experiences the difference between waking consciousness and dream-consciousness.

Wonder, which was not to be found in the shadowy clairvoyance of ancient times, can also not enter the dream-consciousness of today. Amazement, wonder, cannot reach into our dreams, but we experience them in waking consciousness when we turn our attention towards the outer world. In his dreams man is not in this outer world, for they transport him into the spiritual realm, and there he no longer experiences the things of the physical plane. Yet it is just with regard to this physical world that he has learned to wonder. In dreams he accepts everything as he accepted it in ancient clairvoyance, when he could simply take things as they were, because spiritual forms came to him and showed him the good or evil which he had done. For this reason he did not then need wonder. Thus dreams show us through their own nature that they are a heritage from ancient times, when there was neither wonder at the things of everyday life, nor conscience.

Here we reach the point where we must ask—"If man was once already clairvoyant, why then could he not remain so? Why did he descend? Did the gods drive him out without reason?" Now it is a fact that man would never have attained what lies in wonder and in conscience, had he not descended. In order that he might win for himself knowledge and conscience man descended; for he can only win them if he is separated for a time from the spiritual world. And here below he has attained them, attained knowledge and conscience, in order that he may ascend with them once more.

Spiritual Science reveals to us that each time he passes through the life between death and a new birth man lives during a certain period in a purely spiritual world. First of all, after death, he experiences the period of Kamaloka, where he is only half within the spiritual world, as it were, because he still looks back upon his instincts and sympathies and thereby is still drawn towards all that unites him with the physical world. Only when this period of Kamaloka is extinguished, so to speak, does he experience in full a purely spiritual life—or Devachan.

When we enter this purely spiritual world, what do we experience within it? How does every human being experience himself here? Even a quite simple logical consideration can show us that our surroundings between death and a new birth must be entirely different from those during physical life. On earth we see colours because we have eyes; we hear sounds because we have ears. But after death, in spiritual existence, when we have neither eyes nor ears, we can no longer perceive these colours and these sounds. Indeed, even on earth, if our ears or eyes are not good, we consequently see or hear badly, or perhaps not at all. Anyone who ponders over this, even slightly, should find it self-understood. For it is quite clear that we must imagine the spiritual world as completely different from the world in which we live here between birth and death. With the help of the following comparison you may be able to form for yourselves a picture of the transformation which the world must undergo when we pass through the gates of death.

Let us imagine that someone sees a lamb and a wolf. As a human being he can perceive this lamb and this wolf with all the organs of perception which are at his disposal in physical life. He sees the lamb as a material lamb, the wolf as a material wolf. He also recognises other lambs and other wolves and calls them "lamb" and "wolf". He has then a picture-concept of both the one and the other. It might now be said, and it is indeed said—"The picture-concept of the animal is not visible, it lives within the animal; the real being of the lamb and the wolf cannot be seen materially. Thus we form mental images of the animal's being, but this being itself is invisible."

There are however theorists who hold the opinion that the concepts which we form of wolf and lamb live only within us and have nothing to do with the wolf and the lamb themselves. One who maintains this point of view should be induced to feed a wolf upon nothing but lambs until, according to scientific investigation, every particle of the wolf's bodily substance has been renewed; the wolf would then be formed entirely of lamb-substance. And he could then see for himself whether it had changed into a lamb! If however it should turn out that the wolf did not become a Lamb, this would prove that the object wolf is something quite different from the material wolf, that what is objective in the wolf is more than what is material.

This invisible being which we only grasp as a concept in ordinary life, this it is which we see after death. We do not see the white colour of the lamb or hear the sounds it makes, but we see that which works as an invisible power within the lamb, which is just as real, and actually exists for one who lives in the spiritual world. For on the same spot where a lamb stands, there stands also a real spiritual entity, and this we behold after death. And so it is with all the phenomena of our physical surroundings. There we see the sun differently, the moon differently—everything appears different; and we bring something of all this with us, when we enter a new existence through birth. When therefore we are seized with the feeling that we have seen all this before in a different way, then, with the amazement, with the wonder which we feel, knowledge descends to us.

It is quite different, however, when we observe the actions of a human being, for in this case we have to do with conscience. If we wish to know what conscience is; we must turn our attention to an occurrence in life which we can observe without clairvoyance. We must become aware of the moment of falling asleep. This we can learn to do without clairvoyance, and what may thus be experienced can be attained by everyone. When we are on the point of falling asleep, everything begins to lose its sharp outlines, colours grow pale, sounds not only become fainter, but even seem to recede, to be far away; they come to us as if from a great distance, and we can describe their increasing faintness as a "receding". This entire process—this "becoming less distinct" of the world of the senses—is like a transformation, as when mists are gathering. Our limbs also grow weaker. We feel in them something which we did not feel before in a waking condition; it is as if they were endowed with weight, with heaviness. During our waking life—were we aware of these things—we should in reality feel that our legs with which we walk, or our hands which we raise, have no weight whatever for us. Our hand lifts and carries a hundredweight ... why is this hundredweight heavy? Or our hand lifts and carries itself ... why do we feel no weight at all? My hand belongs to me; for this reason I do not feel its heaviness. The hundredweight, however, is outside of me and has weight because it is not a part of myself.

Let us imagine that a being from Mars were to descend to the earth without knowing anything about the conditions here, and that, the first thing which it beheld was a human being, carrying a weight in each hand. To begin with, the Mars-being would necessarily believe that these two weights belonged to the human being as a part of his hands, a part of his entire being. If however it were later forced to realise that the man feels a difference between the hundredweight and his hand, it would naturally be astonished. It is really true that we only feel what is outside of us as weight. Thus when man is about to fall asleep and begins to feel his limbs as something heavy, this is a sign that he is leaving his body, passing out of his physical body.

It is now a question of observing a subtile nuance which occurs in the moment when the limbs begin to grow heavy. A very strange feeling then arises. It manifests itself by saying to us, as it were—"You have done this!" or "You have failed to do that!" The deeds of the past day thus immerge like a living conscience. And if there is something among them which we cannot approve of, we toss about on our couch and cannot go to sleep. If however we are able to feel contented about our deeds, then a blissful moment comes over us as we fall asleep and we say to ourselves—"Ah, could it but always remain thus!" Then follows a sudden jerk; as it were. This is the moment when man passes out of his physical and etheric bodies, and he is then in the spiritual world.

Let us examine more exactly the moment in which this living conscience, as we may call it, arises within us. Without having the strength to really do anything sensible, we toss about on our couch. This is an unhealthy state and prevents us from falling asleep. It occurs when, on approaching sleep, we are about to leave the physical plane in order to ascend into another world, which however will not receive what we call "a bad conscience." We cannot fall asleep because we are thrown back again by the world which we must now enter. The saying that an action should be considered from the point of view of conscience means, therefore, nothing else than a foreboding of what we must be like in the future, as human beings, in order that we may enter the spiritual world.

Thus in amazement we find an expression of what we have seen at an earlier time, while conscience is the expression of a future perception of the spiritual world. Conscience forewarns us as to whether we shall shrink back, or find blessedness, when we are able to behold our actions in Devachan. It is thus a kind of prophetic presentiment of the way in which we shall experience our deeds after death.

Amazement and desire for knowledge on the one hand, and conscience on the other, are living witnesses of the spiritual world. They cannot be explained without taking the spiritual worlds into account. One who can experience awe at the phenomena of the world, who can feel reverence and wonder for these phenomena, will be more easily inclined to become an Anthroposophist than many others. It is the more developed souls who are able to wonder ever more and more. For the less wonder a soul is able to experience, the less developed it is.

Now it is true that man approaches all his daily experiences—the everyday occurrences of life—with much less wonder than he feels, for instance, when admiring the starry heavens in all their splendour. But the higher development of the soul, in the true sense, begins only when we can wonder at the smallest flower, the tiniest petal, the most insignificant beetle or worm, just as much as at the greatest events in the cosmos. If we go to the root of these things, they are indeed very strange. As a rule man is easily inclined to demand an explanation for things which effect him in a sensational way. Those who live in the vicinity of a volcano, for instance, will seek an explanation for the causes of volcanic eruptions, because they must pay particular heed to these things, and therefore devote more attention to them than to everyday proceedings. Indeed people who live far away from volcanoes also attempt to find an explanation concerning them, because they find such occurrences startling and sensational. But when a man enters life with a soul so constituted that he is amazed at all things, because he divines something spiritual in everything about him, he will then be no more amazed at a volcano than perhaps at the little bubbles and tiny craters which he observes in his cup of milk or coffee at the breakfast-table. He is just as much interested in small things as in the greatness of a volcanic eruption.

To be able to approach everything with wonder is a reminiscence of our perception before birth.

To be able to approach all our deeds with conscience means to have a living premonition that every deed which we enact will appear to us in the future in a different form.

Those who feel thus are more than others predestined to find their way to spiritual science.

We live to-day in a time when many things come to meet us in life which can be explained only through spiritual science. Certain things defy every other explanation. And human beings react in very different ways in regard to these. Without doubt we can observe the most varied characters in human beings to-day, and yet among these widely differing nuances of character we meet with two main types.

Those who belong to the first type may be described as thoughtful natures, as those inclining more to observation, who can constantly feel wonder and the stirring of conscience. Many a sorrow, many a dark melancholy mood may take possession of these souls as the result of an unsatisfied longing for explanation. A sensitive conscience can make life much more difficult.

But we find still another type of person in the present time. This type consists of those who do not wish to hear anything whatever about such explanations of the world. For them, all the facts brought forward by spiritual investigation are dreadfully tedious; they prefer to go ahead and lead a robust active life, without asking for explanations, and if you only start to mention them they begin to yawn. It is indeed true that in such natures conscience stirs less easily than in others.

But how is it that such polaric characters exist? Spiritual science is prepared to enter into this question and to show why the one type of character reveals, through its thoughtfulness, a thirst for knowledge, whereas the other is bent only upon enjoying life without asking for any explanation.

If we test the whole scope of the human soul, by means of spiritual investigation—and here only a few indications can be given, as it would require many hours to go into things more thoroughly—we find that many of those who have a more contemplative nature cannot live unless they are able to throw light upon the fact that in previous incarnations they actually knew in their souls something about the truth of reincarnation. There are still countless people upon the earth even to-day who know about reincarnation and for whom it is an absolute reality. We need only think of the Asiatics.

In other words, those who have to-day a thoughtful nature link their present life—even if indirectly—with another life in a previous embodiment when they still knew of reincarnation.

The other more robust natures, however, have come over from a former life in which they knew nothing of repeated lives on earth. They feel no impulse either to burden themselves very greatly with conscience concerning their deeds in life, or to trouble much about explanations. A great many people here in the West are so constituted, and it is even the characteristic of western culture that people have, so to speak, forgotten their previous lives on earth. Yes—they have forgotten them; but our whole culture stands to-day at a turning-point when the memory of past lives on earth will awaken again. Those who live at the present time go foreward therefore into a future which will be characterised by the re-establishment of a connection with the spiritual world.

This ability can be found in only a few people today, but in the course of the twentieth century it will quite definitely become a universal faculty of mankind. And it will be thus ... Let us imagine that someone has done this or that, and is afterwards tormented by his conscience. So it is to-day. In the future, however, when the spiritual connection has been re-established, he who has committed the one or the other deed will feel the desire to shrink back from it as if blindfold[ed]. And there will arise then before him as a picture—as a dream-picture, but a living dream-picture—something which will have to occur in the future because of this deed. And people will say to themselves when they experience such a picture—"Yes, it is I who am experiencing this, but I have not yet experienced what I see there."

For all those who have heard nothing of spiritual science, this will appear as something terrible. Those, however who have prepared themselves for these events, which will be experienced in time by all human beings, will say to themselves—"It is true, I have not experienced this yet, but I shall experience it in the future as the karmic compensation of the deed which I have just done."

We stand to-day as if in the anti-chamber of that time when the karmic compensation of deeds will appear to human beings in the form of prophetic dream-pictures. And now imagine this experience as becoming ever stronger and stronger in the course of time, and you will have before you the man of the future who will behold how his deeds are karmicly judged.

But how is it possible that human beings will be capable of perceiving this karmic compensation? This is connected with the fact that men of former times had no conscience, but were tormented by the Furies after committing an unworthy deed. So it was with ancient clairvoyance; but all this is past. Then came the time when men no longer saw the Furies, the time of transition, when all that the Furies had formerly performed appeared from within as conscience. And now we are gradually approaching a time when we shall be able to see once more—to see the karmic compensation of our deeds. The fact that man has once won for himself the power of conscience makes it possible for him to see consciously in the spiritual world henceforeward.

Just as certain people living at the present time have become thoughtful natures because they won certain powers in former incarnations which now reveal themselves as wonder, as a kind of memory of these earlier lives, just so they will take certain powers with them into their next incarnation if they now acquire a knowledge of the spiritual worlds. Those, however, who refuse to accept an explanation of the law of reincarnation at the present time, will fare very badly in the future world. For such souls these facts will be a terrible reality.

To-day we are living in a period of history when people can still cope with life, even if they have no explanation of it from the point of view of the super-sensible worlds. But this period which has once been permitted, so to speak, by the cosmic powers will draw to an end, and those who now have no connection with the spiritual world will, in their next life, awaken in such a way that the world into which they are reborn will be incomprehensible to them. And when, at death, they leave this uncomprehended physical existence once more, they will have no understanding for the spiritual world either, into which they grow after death. They will, of course, enter the spiritual world, but they will not be able to grasp it. They will find themselves then in surroundings which they cannot understand, which do not seem to belong to them, and torment them as only a bad conscience can torment.

And when again they descend into another incarnation, it will be equally as bad, for they will have all manner of instincts and passions, and as they can develop no feeling of wonder, they will live in the midst of these as in illusions and hallucinations. The materialists of to-day are approaching a future in which they will be tormented in a terrible way by illusions and hallucinations; for what they think in this Life, they will then experience in the form of illusions and hallucinations.

We may picture this to ourselves quite concretely. Let us imagine, for instance, that to-day two people walk along the street together. One is a materialist, the other a non-materialist. The latter mentions some facts about the spiritual world. The materialist however says, or thinks—"Oh, that is all nonsense! Such things are only illusions!" Indeed, for him they are illusions, but for the one who has just spoken of the spiritual world they are by no means illusions. After death however the materialist will experience the consequences, and with still greater force later during his next life on earth. Then he will feel the spiritual worlds as something which torments him, like a living reproach. During his life in Kama-Loka between death and a new birth he will, so to speak, feel no difference between Kama-Loka and Devachan. And when he is reborn and the spiritual world arises before him, as has been described, it will appear to him as something unreal, as an illusion, an hallucination.

Spiritual science is not something which is there to satisfy mere curiosity. Not because we are simply more curious than others concerning the super-sensible world are we gathered together here, but because we inwardly sense, to a greater or less degree, that the human beings of the future will not be able to live without spiritual science. All other endeavors which do not take this fact into account follow a course which leads to decadence.

Yet things are so arranged that those who now refuse to accept spiritual science will nevertheless be given the opportunity of coming in contact with it in future incarnations. Forerunners are necessary however. And those who, through their Karma, already have a longing for spiritual science to-day have thereby the possibility of becoming such forerunners. This opportunity comes to them simply because forerunners must be there, and they must become such. The others who, because of their Karma, do not now come to spiritual science, even though they would not reject it, will see the longing for spiritual science arise out of the universal Karma of humanity later on.

The following lecture was given by Rudolf Steiner at Berlin, on the 24th of December, 1912. It is from the unpublished lecture series entitled, Experiential Knowledge of the Supersensible, published in Germas as, Erfahrungen des Uebersinnlichen. Die wege der Seele zu Christus. This lecture is known by two titles, The Birth of the Light, and Thoughts on Christmas Eve. The latter title can be found in the 1928 edition of the book, The Festivals of the Seasons.

This lecture was translated from shorthand reports, unrevised by the lecturer, by Harry Collison. It is presented here with the kind permission of the Rudolf Steiner Nachlassverwaltung, Dornach, Switzerland.

It is beautiful that circumstances permit of our uniting here this evening at this festival. For though the vast majority of our friends are able to celebrate the festival of love and peace outside in the circle of those with whom they are united by the ties of ordinary life, there are many among our anthroposophical friends who to-day are alone in a certain sense. It also goes without saying that those of us who are not thus drawn into this or that circle are, considering the spiritual current in which we stand, least of all excluded from taking part in the festival of love and peace. What should be more beautifully suited to unite us here this evening in the atmosphere, in the spiritual air of mutual love and peace that radiates through our hearts than an anthroposophical movement? And we may also regard it as a happy chance of fate that it is just in this year that we are able to be together on this Christmas Eve, and to follow out a little train of thought which can bring this festival near to our hearts. For in this year we ourselves stand before the birth of that which, if we rightly understand it, must lie very close to our hearts: I mean the

Birth of our Anthroposophical Society.

If we have lived the great ideal which we want to express through the Anthroposophical Society, and if we are accordingly inclined to dedicate our forces to this great ideal of mankind, then we can naturally let our thoughts sweep on from this our spiritual light or means of light to the dawn of the great light of human evolution which is celebrated on this night of love and peace. On this night—spiritually, or in our souls—we really have before us that which may be called the Birth of the Earthly Light, of the light which is to be born out of the darkness of the Night of Initiation, and which is to be radiant for human hearts and human souls, for all that they need in order to find their way upwards to those spiritual heights which are to be attained through the earth's mission.

What is it really that we should write in our hearts—the feeling that we may have on this Christmas night?

In this Christmas night there should pour into our hearts the fundamental human feeling of love—the fundamental feeling that says: compared with all other forces and powers and treasures of the world, the treasures and the power and the force of love are the greatest, the most intense, the most powerful. There should pour into our hearts, into our souls, the feeling that wisdom is a great thing—that love is still greater; that might is a great thing—that love is yet greater. And this feeling of the power and force and strength of love should pour into our hearts so strongly that from this Christmas night something may overflow into all our feelings during the rest of the year, so that we may truthfully say at all times: we must really be ashamed, if in any hour of the year we do anything that cannot hold good when the spirit gazes into that night in which we would pour the all-power of love into our hearts. May it be possible for the days and the hours of the year to pass in such a way that we need not be ashamed of them in the light of the feeling that we would pour into our souls on Christmas night!

If such can be our feeling, then we are feeling together with all those beings who wanted to bring the significance of Christmas, of the ‘Night of Initiation,’ near to mankind: the significance and the relation of Christmas night to the whole Christ-Impulse within earthly evolution.

For this Christ Impulse stands before us, we may say, in a threefold figure; and to-day at the Christ-festival this threefold figure of the Christ-Impulse can have great significance for us. The first figure meets us when we turn our gaze to the Gospel according to St. Matthew. The Being who is born—or whose birth we celebrate—on this Christmas Eve, enters human evolution in such a way that three heads of mankind, three representatives of high magic come to pay homage to the kingly Being who is entering man's evolution. ‘Kings’ in the spiritual sense of the word: magic kings come to pay homage to the great spiritual King Who appears in the high form that He has attained. For as high a being as Zarathustra once was, passed through his stages of development in order to reach the height of the spiritual King whom the magic kings came to welcome. And so does the Spirit-King of St. Matthew's Gospel confront our spiritual gaze: He brings into human evolution an infinite fount of goodness and an infinite fount of mighty love, of that goodness and that love before which human wickedness feels itself challenged to battle. Thus again do we see the Spirit-King enter human evolution: that which must be enmity against the Spirit-King feels itself challenged in the figure of Herod; and the spiritual King must flee before that which is the enemy of spiritual kingship. So do we see Him in the spirit, in His majestic and magic glory. And before our soul there arises the marvellous image of the Spirit-King, of Zarathustra reincarnate, the flower of human evolution, as He has passed from incarnation to incarnation on the physical plane, and as wisdom has reached perfection, surrounded by the three magic spirit-kings themselves, by flowers and heads of human evolution.

In yet another figure the Christ-Impulse can come before our souls, as it appears in the Gospel according to St. Mark, and in St. John's Gospel. There we seem to be led towards the cosmic Christ-Impulse, which expresses how man is eternally related to the great cosmic forces. We have this connection with the great cosmic forces when, through an understanding of the cosmic Christ, we become aware how through the Mystery of Golgotha there entered into earthly evolution itself a cosmic impulse. As something yet infinitely more great and mighty than the Spirit-King Whom we see in the spirit surrounded by the magicians, there appears before us the mighty cosmic Being who will take hold of the vehicle of that man who is himself the Spirit-King, the flower and summit of earthly evolution. It is really only the short-sightedness of present day mankind which prevents men from feeling the full greatness and power of this incision into human evolution, wherein Zarathustra became the bearer of the cosmic Christ-Spirit. It is only this short-sightedness which does not feel the whole significance of that which was being prepared in the moment of human evolution which we celebrate in our ‘night of initiation,’ in our Christmas. Everywhere, if we enter but a little more deeply into human evolution, we are shown how deeply the Christ-Event penetrated into the whole earthly evolution. Let us feel this as we follow this evening a relevant line of thought, whence something may stream out into the rest of our anthroposophical thought, deepening and penetrating into the meaning of things.

Many things might be brought forward for this purpose. It could be shown how, in times which were still nearer to the spiritual, an entirely new spirit appeared before mankind: new in comparison with the spirit that held sway and was active in earthly evolution in pre-Christian times. For instance, there was created a figure, a figure, however, which lived, which expresses to us how a soul of the early Christian centuries was affected when such a soul, having first felt itself quite immersed in the old Pagan spiritual knowledge, then approached the Christ-Impulse simply and without prejudice, and felt a great change in itself. To-day we more and more have a feeling for such a figure as Faust. We feel this figure, which a more modern poet—Goethe—has, so to speak, reawakened. We feel how this figure is meant to express the highest human striving, yet at the same time the possibility of deepest guilt. It may be said, apart from all the artistic value given to this figure by the power of a modern poet, we can feel deep and significant things of what lived in those early Christian souls, when for example we sink into the poem of the Greek Empress Eudocia. She created a revival of the old legend of Cyprian, which pictures a man who lived wholly in the world of the old heathen gods and could become entwined in it—a man who after the Mystery of Golgotha was still completely given up to the old heathen mysteries and forces and powers. Beautiful is the scene in which Cyprian makes the acquaintance of Justina, who is already touched by the Christ-Impulse, and who is given up to those powers which are revealed through Christianity. Cyprian is tempted to draw her from the path, and for this purpose to make use of the old heathen magical methods. All this is played out between Faust and Gretchen, in the atmosphere of this battle of old Pagan impulses with the Christ-Impulse. Apart from the spiritual side of it, it works out magnificently in the old story of the Cyprian and of the temptation to which he was exposed over against the Christian Justina. And even though Eudocia's poetry may not be very good, still we must say: there we see the awful collision of the old pre-Christian world with the Christian world. In Cyprian we see a man who feels himself still far from the Christian faith, quite given up to the old Pagan divine forces. There is a certain power in this description. To-day we only bring forward a few extracts, showing how Cyprian feels towards the magic forces of pre-Christian spiritual powers. Thus in Eudocia's poem we hear him speak: (‘Confession of Cyprian.’)

‘Ye faithful ones in Christ, who in your hearts
Do cherish true and warm our Saviour great in praise:
Behold my tears outpouring and then hear
While I relate the fountain of my grief.
And ye, who still are lost in dark illusion bound
To idol images, pay heed, ye too, to that
Which I shall tell of their deceit and falsehood.
For never lived a man, who to false Gods
Was given up as I was; never one
So deeply versed in all the demon's arts.

‘Yea, I am Cyprianus, whom, a child,
My parents brought unto Apollo dedicate.
The orgies' hue and cry became my lullaby,
What time the fearsome dragon's feast was celebrate.
At seven years they consecrated me
Unto the Sun-God Mithras. Then I lived
In Athena's noble city, as a citizen—
Such was my parents' wish. When I was ten,
I lit Demeter's torches, and I sank myself
In Kora's mournful death-complaint. Then as a temple-child
I nourished Pallas' serpent in the castle's walls.

‘Then I ascended on the forest-mount,
Olympus' height, where fools would make believe
The radiant dwelling-place of Gods sublime.
I saw the Horae and the hustling winds,
The days' long chorus, wafted on wings
Of fantasy, to speed through life on magic wings.
I saw the spirits' fiery headlong fray,
And ambuscades deceitful. Some of them anon
Bluster and burst with ridicule and glee,
While others petrified in terror rooted stand.
I saw the ranks of Goddesses and Gods;
For forty days or more I fingered there.
And as the sun did set, I ate the fruits
Of leafy shady bowers. And there, like messengers
From kingly castles, sped the spirit-beings,
Then to descend to earth with thousand ills
To vex the race of men.

‘I numbered fifteen years, already knew
The power and work of spirits and of Gods;
And of high priests my teachers there were seven—
It was my parents' will that I should gain
Science of all that bides upon the earth,
And in the airy realms, and in the oceans' depths.
I searched through that which in the human breast
Destruction brews—what ferments in the herb,
In flowery juices; and what sickening creeps
Around the wearied body; nor did I neglect
That which the gaudy snake, prince of the world, conceives
To challenge the eternal goals of God.

‘I wandered on in Argos' fairest land—
Argos that nourished the rose.
'Twas just the season's round of Eos' feast,
Eos white-raimented, Tithonos' spouse,
There I became their priest.
I learned to know what windy brothers speed
Through airy spaces and this pole's long round;
What binds the ploughland with the waters' flood,
And darkens o'er the skies with showering rain.’

Thus had Cyprian learned to know everything that was to be learned by being, so to speak, initiated into the pre-Christian mysteries. Oh! he describes them exactly—those powers to whom those could look up who were entrusted with the ancient traditions of initiation in a time when those traditions no longer held good; his description of them and of all their fruits which were no longer suitable to that age is fascinating.

‘Myself I saw the demon face to face,
When I had won him by my sacrifice.
I spake to him, and he did answer me
With words of flattery. He praised my youth,
My fairness and my skill unto his works,
Assigned to me dominion o'er this world
And spirits to accomplish my behests;
He greeted me by name, what time we parted,
And all his great ones looked on us amazed.
His countenance is like unto the flower
Of purest gold: and on his head a diadem
Of glittering stones; his raiment's like a flame,
And all the earth doth shiver as he moves.
In dense array around his mighty throne
Spear-bearers stand, their eyes cast on the ground.
Thus he makes up to be a God; he imitates
The Great One's works, whom boldly challenging,
yet creates but powerless fantasies—
For all their demons' being is emptiness.

And then it goes on to describe how the temptation approaches him, and how all this works on him before he comes to know the Christ-Impulse.

‘I wandered from the Persian land away,
And came to Antioch, great town of Syria.
Here I accomplished many a miracle
Of hellish mystery and of enchantments' crafts.
Here a fair youth, Aglaidas, once sought me out;
And others with him, fired with passionate love.
Towards a maiden was his heart aglow,
Justina was her name. He now entreated me,
Clasping around my knees, to conjure her
Into his arms by means of magic craft.
I hearkened to his prayers and then at first
Appeared to me the demon's powerlessness.
Many as were the spirit-throngs he ruled,
So many he sent out to tempt her soul;
And every one returned from her abashed.
Me too, who pleaded for Aglaidas, Justina's faith
And purity and piety could put to shame.
She shewed me then the vanity of mine arts,
And many a sleepless night I lingered on
With manifold enchantments' drudgery.
Ten weeks the prince of spirits stormed the heart
Of yonder maiden. Till Eros, alas,
Not only sped his shaft to wound Aglaidas:
I too was seized and torn with frenzied love.

And from this confusion into which the old world brought him, Cyprian is healed through the Christ-Impulse, in that he cast aside the old magic to understand the Christ-Impulse in its full greatness. We have later in the Faust poem a kind of shadow of this legend, but filled with greater poetic power. In such a figure as this, it is brought home to us very strongly how the Christ-Impulse, which, with some recapitulations we have just brought before our souls in a twofold figure, was felt in the early Christian centuries.

A third figure, as it were a third aspect of the Christ-Impulse, is one which can especially bring home to us how, through that which in the full sense of the word we may call Anthroposophy, we can feel ourselves united with all that is human. This is the aspect which is most uniquely set forth in St. Luke's Gospel, and which then worked on in that representation of the Christ-Impulse which shows us its preparation in the ‘Child.’ In that love and simplicity and at the same time powerlessness, with which the Christ Jesus of St. Luke's Gospel meets us, thus it was suited to be placed before all hearts. There all can feel themselves near to that which so simply, like a child—and yet so greatly and mightily—spake to mankind through the Child of St. Luke's Gospel, which is not shown to the magic kings, but to the poor shepherds from the hills. That other Being of St. Matthew's Gospel stands at the summit of human evolution and paying homage to him there come spiritual kings, magic kings. The Child of St. Luke's Gospel stands there in simplicity, excluded from human evolution, as a child received by no great ones—received by the shepherds from the hills. Nor does he stand within human evolution, this Child of St. Luke's Gospel, in such a way that we were told in this Gospel, for example, how the wickedness of the world felt itself challenged by his kingly spiritual power. No! but—albeit we are not at once brought face to face with Herod's power and wickedness—it is clearly shown to us how that which is given in this Child is so great, so noble, so full of significance, that humanity itself cannot receive it into its ranks. It appears poor and rejected, as though cast into a corner by human evolution and there in a peculiar manner it shows us its extra-human, its divine, that is to say, its cosmic origin. And what an inspiration flowed from this Gospel of St. Luke for all those who, again and again, gave us scenes, in pictures and in other artistic works—scenes which were especially called forth by St. Luke's Gospel. If we compare the various artistic productions, do we not feel how those, which throughout the centuries were inspired by St. Luke's Gospel, show us Jesus as a Being with whom every man, even the simplest, can feel akin? Through that which worked on through the Luke-Jesus-Child, the simplest man comes to feel the whole event in Palestine as a family happening, which concerns himself as something which happened among his own near relations. No Gospel worked on in the same way as this Gospel of St. Luke, with its sublime and happy flowing mood, making the Jesus-Being intimate to the human souls. And yet—all is contained in this childlike picture—all that should be contained in a certain aspect of the Christ-Impulse: namely, that the highest thing in the world, in the whole world, is love: that wisdom is something great, worthy to be striven after—for without wisdom beings cannot exist—but that love is something yet greater; that the might and the power with which the world is architected is something great without which the world cannot exist—but that love is something yet greater. And he has a right feeling for the Christ-Impulse, who can feel this higher nature of Love over against Power and Strength and Wisdom. As human spiritual individualities, above all things we must strive after wisdom, for wisdom is one of the divine impulses of the world. And that we must strive after wisdom, that wisdom must be the sacred treasure that brings us forward—it is this that was intended to be shown in the first scene of The Soul's Probation, that we must not let wisdom fall away, that we must cherish it, in order to ascend through wisdom on the ladder of human evolution. But everywhere where wisdom is, there is a twofold thing: wisdom of the Gods and wisdom of the Luciferic powers. The being who strives after wisdom must inevitably come near to the antagonists of the Gods, to the throng of the Light-Bearer, the army of Lucifer. Therefore there is no divine all-wisdom, for wisdom is always confronted with an opponent—with Lucifer.

And power and might! Through wisdom the world is conceived, through wisdom it is seen, it is illumined; through power and might the world is fashioned and built. Everything that comes about, comes about through the power and the might that is in the beings and we should be shutting ourselves out from the world if we did not seek our share in the power and might of the world. We see this mighty power in the world when the lightning flashes through the clouds; we perceive it when the thunder rolls or when the rain pours down from heavenly spaces into the earth to fertilise it, or when the rays of the sun stream down to conjure forth the seedlings of plants slumbering in the earth. In the forces of nature that work down on to the earth we see this power working blessing as sunshine, as forces in rain and clouds; but, on the other hand, we must see this power and might in volcanoes, for instance, which seem to rise up and rebel against the earth itself—heavenly force pitted against heavenly force. And we look into the world, and we know: if we would ourselves be beings of the world-all, then something of them must work in us; we must have our share in power and in might. Through them we stand within the world: Divine and Ahrimanic powers live and pulsate through us. The all-power is not ‘all-powerful,’ for always it has its antagonist Ahriman against itself.

Between them—between Power and Wisdom—stands Love; and if it is the true love we feel that alone is ‘Divine.’ We can speak of the ‘all-power,’ of ‘all-strength,’ as of an ideal; but over against them stand Ahriman. We can speak of ‘all-wisdom’ as of an ideal; but over against it stands the force of Lucifer. But to say ‘all-love’ seems absurd; for if we love rightly it is capable of no increase. Wisdom can be small—it can be augmented. Power can be small; it can be augmented. Therefore all-wisdom and all-power can stand as ideals. But cosmic love—we feel that it does not allow of the conception of all-love; for love is something unique.

As the Jesus-Child is placed before us in St. Luke's Gospel, so do we feel it as the personification of love; the personification of love between wisdom or all-wisdom and all-power. And we really feel it like this, just because it is a child. Only it is intensified because in addition to all that a child has at any time, this Child has the quality of forlornness: it is cast out into a lonely corner. The magic building of man—we see it already laid out in the organism of the child. Wherever in the wide world-all we turn our gaze, there is nothing that comes into being through so much wisdom as this magic building, which appears before our eyes—even unspoiled as yet—in the childlike organism. And just as it appears in the child—that which is all-wisdom in the physical body, the same thing also appears in the etheric body, where the wisdom of cosmic powers is expressed; and so in the astral body and in the ego. Like wisdom that has made an extract of itself—so does the child lie there. And if it is thrown out into a corner of mankind, like the Child Jesus, then we feel that separated there lies a picture of perfection, concentrated world-wisdom.

But all-power too appears personified to us, when we look on the child as it is described in St. John's Gospel. How shall we feel how the all-power is expressed in relation to the body of the child, the being of the child? We must make present in our souls the whole force of that which divine powers and forces of nature can achieve. Think of the might of the forces and powers of nature near to the earth when the elements are storming; transplant yourself into the powers of nature that hold sway, surging and welling up and down in the earth; think of all the brewing of world-powers and world-forces, of the clash of the good forces with the Ahrimanic forces; the whirling and raging of it all. And now imagine all this storming and raging of the elements to be held away from a tiny spot in the world, in order that at that tiny spot the magic building of the child's body may lie—in order to set apart a tiny body; for the child's body must be protected. Were it exposed for a moment to the violence of the powers of nature, it would be swept away! Then you may feel how it is immersed in the all-power. And now you may realise the feeling that can pass through the human soul when it gazes with simple heart on that which is expressed by St. Luke's Gospel. If one approached this ‘concentrated wisdom’ of the child with the greatest human wisdom—mockery and foolishness this wisdom! For it can never be so great as was the wisdom that was used in order that the child-body might lie before us. The highest wisdom remains foolishness and must stand abashed before the childlike body and pay homage to heavenly wisdom; but it knows that it cannot reach it. Mockery is this wisdom; it must feel itself rejected in its own foolishness.

No, with wisdom we cannot approach that which is placed before us as the Jesus-Being in St. Luke's Gospel. Can we approach it with power?

We cannot approach it with power. For the use of ‘power’ can only have a meaning where a contrary power comes into play. But the child meets us—whether we would use much or little power—with its powerlessness and mocks our power in its powerlessness! For it would be meaningless to approach the child with power, since it meets us with nothing but its powerlessness.

That is the wonderful thing—that the Christ-Impulse, being placed before us in its preparation in the Child Jesus, meets us in St. Luke's Gospel just in this way, that—be we ever so wise—we cannot approach it with our wisdom; no more can we approach it with our power. Of all that at other times connects us with the world—nothing can approach the Child Jesus, as St. Luke's Gospel describes it—neither wisdom, nor power—but love. To bring love towards the child-being, unlimited love—that is the one thing possible. The power of love, and the justification and signification of love and love alone—that it is that we can feel so deeply when we let the contents of St. Luke's Gospel work on our soul.

We live in the world, and we may not scorn any of the impulses of the world. It would be a denial of our humanity and a betrayal of the Gods for us not to strive after wisdom; every day and every hour of the year is well applied, in which we realise it as our human duty to strive after wisdom. And so does every day and every hour of the year compel us to become aware that we are placed in the world and that we are a play of the forces and powers of the world—of the all-power that pulsates through the world. But there is one moment in which we may forget this, in which we may remember what St. Luke's Gospel places before us, when we think of the Child that is yet more filled with wisdom and yet more powerless than other people's children and before whom the highest love appears in its full justification, before whom wisdom must stand still and power must stand still.

So we can feel the significance of the fact that it is just this Christ-Child, received by the simple shepherds, which is placed before us as the third aspect of the Christ-Impulse; beside the Spirit-Kingly aspect and the great Cosmic aspect, the Childlike aspect. The Spirit-Kingly aspect meets us in such a way that we are reminded of the highest wisdom, and that the ideal of highest wisdom is placed before us. The cosmic aspect meets us, and we know that through it the whole direction of earthly evolution is re-formed. Highest power through the cosmic Impulse is revealed to us—highest power so great that it conquers even death. And that which must be added to wisdom and power as a third thing, and must sink into our souls as something transcending the other two, is set before us as that from which man's evolution on earth, on the physical plane, proceeds. And it has sufficed to bring home to humanity, through the ever-returning picture of Jesus' birth at Christmas, the whole significance of love in the world and in human evolution. Thus, as it is in the Christmas ‘night of initiation’ that the birth of the Jesus-Child is put before us, it is in the same night as it comes round again and again that there can be born in our souls, contemplating the birth of the Jesus-Child, the understanding of genuine, true love that resounds above all. And if at Christmas an understanding of the feeling of love is rightly awakened in us, if we celebrate this birth of Christ—the awakening of love—then from the moment in which we experience it there can radiate that which we need for the remaining hours and days of the year, that it may flow through and bless the wisdom that it is ours to strive after in every hour and in every day of the year.

It was especially through the emphasising of this love-impulse that, already in Roman times, Christianity brought into human evolution the feeling that something can be found in human souls, through which they can come near each other—not by touching what the world gives to men, but that which human souls have through themselves. There was always the need of having such an approaching together of man in love. But what had become of this feeling in Rome, at the time when the Mystery of Golgotha took place? It had become the Saturnalia. In the days of December, beginning from the seventeenth, the Saturnalia took place, in which all differences of rank and standing were suspended. Then man met man; high and low ceased to be; every one said ‘thou’ to the other. That which originated from the outer world was swept away, but for fun and merriment the children were given ‘Saturnalia presents,’ which then developed into our Christmas presents. Thus ancient Rome had been driven to take refuge in fun, in joking, in order to transcend the ordinary social distinctions.

Into the midst of all this, there entered about that time the new principle, wherein men do not call forth joking and merriment, but the highest in their souls—the spiritual. Thus did the feeling of equality from man to man enter Christianity in the time when in Rome it had assumed the merrymaking form of the Saturnalia, and this also testifies to us of the aspect of love, of general human love which can exist between man and man if we grasp man in his deepest being. Thus, for example, we grasp him in his deepest being, when at Christmas Eve the child awaits the coming of the Christmas child or the Christmas angel. How does the child wait at Christmas Eve? It awaits the coming of the Christmas child or angel, knowing: He is coming not from human lands, he comes from the spiritual world! It is a kind of understanding of the spiritual world, in which the child shows itself to be like the grown-up people. For they too know the same thing that the child knows—that the Christ-Impulse came into earthly evolution from higher worlds. So it is not only the Child of St. Luke's Gospel that comes before our souls at Christmas, but that which Christmas shall bring near to man's heart comes near to every child's soul in the loveliest way, and unites childlike understanding with grown-up understanding. All that a child can feel, from the moment when it begins to be able to think at all—that is the one pole. And the other pole is that which we can feel in our highest spiritual concerns, if we remain faithful to the impulse which was mentioned at the beginning of this evening's thoughts, the impulse whereby we awaken the will to the spiritual light after which we strive in our now to be founded Anthroposophical Society. For there, too, it is our will that that which is to come into human evolution shall be borne by something which comes into us from spiritual realms as an impulse. And just as the child feels towards the angel of Christmas who brings it its Christmas presents—it feels itself, in its childlike way, connected with the spiritual—so may we feel ourselves connected with the spiritual gift that we long for on Christmas night as the impulse which can bring us the high ideal for which we strive. And if in this circle we feel ourselves united in such love as can stream in from a right understanding of the ‘night of initiation,’ then we shall be able to attain that which is to be attained through the Anthroposophical Society—our anthroposophical ideal. We shall attain that which is to be attained in united work, if a ray of that man-to-man love can take hold of us, of which we can learn when we give ourselves in the right way to the Christmas thought.

Thus those of our dear friends who are united with us to-night may have a kind of excellence of feeling. Though they may not be sitting here or there under the Christmas-tree in the way that is customary in this cycle of time, our dear friends are yet sitting under the Christmas-tree. And all of you who are spending this ‘initiation night’ with us under the Christmas-tree: try to awaken in your souls something of the feeling that can come over us when we feel why it is that we are here together—that we may already learn to realise in our souls those impulses of love which must once in distant and yet more distant future come nearer and nearer, when the Christ-Impulse, of which our Christmas has reminded us so well, takes hold on human evolution with ever greater and greater power, greater and greater understanding. For it will only take hold, if souls be found who understand it in its full significance. But in this realm, ‘understanding’ cannot be without love—the fairest thing in human evolution, to which we give birth in our souls just on this evening and night when we transfuse our hearts with that spiritual picture of the Jesus-Child, cast out by the rest of mankind, thrown into a corner, born in a stable. Such is the picture of Him that is given to us—as though he comes into human evolution from outside, and is received by the simplest in spirit, the poor shepherds. If to-day we seek to give birth to the love-impulse that can pour into our souls from this picture, then it will have the force to promote that which we would and should achieve, to assist in the tasks that we have set ourselves in the realm of Anthroposophy, and that karma has pointed out to us as deep and right tasks in the realm of Anthroposophy.

Let us take this with us from this evening's thoughts on the Christmas initiation night, saying that we have come together in order to take out with us the impulse of love, not only for a short time, but for all our striving that we have set before us, inasmuch as we can understand it through the spirit of our anthroposophical view of the world.

The lectures of 18th and 24th September, 1916 on pre-Columbian America, to which this introduction is devoted, contain one obvious and central contradiction: on the one hand there is the universally accepted knowledge that on the occasion of human sacrifices it was the heart that was plucked out, while Steiner on the other states clearly that it was the stomach. So in all that follows we shall have two purposes in mind. It is not our intention to make use of all the documents that are available to us, but rather to deal in a precise manner with a few of them which seem to provide some confirmation of Steiner's statements. We shall then conclude by providing the reader with some thoughts of a methodological nature about the study of the oral and visual evidence for pre-Columbian Mexican spirituality.

Before embarking on the subject itself it seems to us to be most important to consider at some length a few of the characteristics of the existing documents. First of all, they are very scarce, and they contain many gaps. The architectural remains, the stonework and crafts in general have provided some substantial information on Middle American culture, whereas the written documents, what we may call in general the conceptual material, is very poor. Three, or possibly four Maya manuscripts survive, which may or may not be correctly deciphered, as against 27 others destroyed by Fray Diego de Landa in 1562, all the documents described for example by Alonso Ponce in 1588, some or all of which he may have seen, together with all those described by José de Acosta in 1590 and Pedro Sanchez de Aguilar in 1639. Most of the manuscripts assembled by later collectors such as the Frenchman Abbé Charles Etienne Brasseur de Bourbourg were lost, as well as those destroyed in 1847 during the civil war in Yucatan, the so-called “war of the castes.” Such a total of manuscripts is beyond computation, and to these must be added the numberless chronicles destroyed in Upper Yucatan in 1870.

The Mexican manuscripts in the strict sense of the word have experienced similar vicissitudes, though from a historical viewpoint they were even more spectacular. The fifteen “codices” in our possession, even if we include other texts such as the monumental collection of Sahagun and the Annals of Cuauhtitlan, are only a few remnants of what at one time was a vast corpus. Itzcoatl, the fourth Aztec king (1427-1440) commanded all the documents of the subject peoples to be destroyed, while Juan de Zumarraga, the first bishop of Mexico, was responsible for the auto-da-fe in 1528 of a “small mountain” of manuscripts heaped up by missionaries in the marketplace of Tezcoco.

Even though we examine with the greatest care the few crumbs that remain in the hope of extracting as much information from them as possible, it must be recognized that for purely statistical reasons they cannot provide any kind of a overall panorama of the cultural reality of Mexico in the historical sense of the term. And this remains true even when we take into account also such useful material as is to be gleaned from the iconography of the stonework or general ornamentation, which is necessarily fragmentary. However ingenious those investigators who rely on these documents may be, they will never be able to extract from them what is not there—and there can be no doubt that what is missing is the greatest part of Mexican culture. For this reason it is not logically possible to use this tiny fragment of pre-Columbian history for the purpose of trying to refute the work of a spiritual investigator.

We shall now proceed to a point by point comparison between the indications given by Steiner in his two lectures on the subject, and the various documents that are available. The most important is the Codex Florentin of Sahagun (here abbreviated to Sah.) in the remarkable Anglo-Nahuatl edition of Anderson and Dibble published from 1950 to 1961 by the University of New Mexico at Santa Fe (General History of the Things of New Spain).

Steiner places the original Meso-American mysteries long before the beginning of our era. For this epoch, which covers the pre-classical and probably also the classical periods, all documents are therefore lacking. Moreover, we many easily imagine that the iconography evidence, as for example for the second period of Teotihuacan, will scarcely offer us any indications because of the secret character of this high (if degraded) initiation. It seems hopeless to expect to find external traces of this initiation in view of the fact that most Mexican art was of a public nature, whether employed for the ornamentation of the temples or for such artisinal products as pottery. Since the veil of secrecy regarding initiation could have been lifted only as the result of a betrayal, it is in the highest degree unlikely that anything bearing on it could have survived. And it was precisely at the period we are discussing that the Mysteries reached their highest point, not when the cult of Taotl was in decline. It my well be that there was such a decline after the destruction of the great black magician mentioned by Steiner, and that this was accompanied by the growth of theocracy—for which the architectural and theological vigor of Teotihuacan II and III provides evidence. With regard to objects having an esoteric character and for this reason not public, the case might be different. We shall return to this point later, while always keeping in mind Juan de Zumarraga's boast that he destroyed 20,000 “idols.”

The only indications that it would be reasonable to look for are oral traditions from very much earlier transcribed into the Nahuatl language at a time when such knowledge was no longer forbidden. It is of course a well known fact that the failure to commit oral literature to writing has the effect of preserving it better than when it is, as we say, “fixed” in writing. Even if transmission by word of mouth involves numerous changes, especially in a period when an earlier original spirituality is in decline, nevertheless oral transmission does still contain an inner impulse necessarily lacking in a written document.

Steiner begins by speaking of Taotl:

“Before the discovery of America, there were mysteries of the most varied kind in the western hemisphere. ... Like a single central power whom all followed and obeyed, a kind of spectral spirit was revered. ... This spirit was called by a name that sounded something like Taotl.”

The Florentine manuscript contains in several places the word teutl (e is the vowel preferred by modern scholars) god, or teteuh, gods, in the categorical meaning of the term.

“First Chapter, which telleth of the highest of the gods (teteuh).

“Second Chapter, which telleth of the god (teutl) ...” (Sah. I).

The same word is used by the Aztecs in addressing Cortés: “May the god (in teutl) deign to hear ...” (Sah. XII).

In taking account of Steiner's indications we are faced with a process of abstraction that developed in the course of time, by which the “single central power” spoken of by Steiner and common to all the mysteries has become the collective “concept” of the gods. Such a process extending over thousands of years seems plausible to us.

The second point, which we shall examine, concerns Uitzilopochtli (or Vitzliputzli, as the name was transcribed in Steiner's account). In the lecture of September 18th the words appear: “At a certain time a being was born in Central America who set himself a definite task within this culture. The old ... inhabitants of Mexico ... said that he had entered the world as the son of a virgin, who had conceived him through super earthly powers, inasmuch as it was a feathered being (called in the lecture of 24th September a “bird”) from the heavens who impregnated her.” The later lecture also makes it clear that “Vitzliputzli was a human being, a being who appeared in a physical body.”

So it is a question here of the incarnation of a spiritual being who was not a human being in the usual sense of the term. It was only his incarnation in a physical body that made him similar to men. This corresponds very exactly with what is to be found in the Codex Florentin (Sah. I):

“First Chapter, which telleth of the highest of the gods whom they worshipped ... Uitzilopochtli ... was only a common man ...”

The legend to which Steiner refers forms an integral part of the Codex (Sah. III):

“And once ... feathers descended upon her—what was like a ball of feathers. ... Thereupon by means of them Coatl icue conceived [Uitzilopochtli].”

The following are the principal features of the mission of Uitzilopochtli, as Steiner gives them, in connection with the great initiate of the Toatl cults, whom he does not name:

“At this time in Central America a man was born who was destined by birth to become a high initiate of Taotl ... This was one of the greatest black magicians, if not the greatest ever to tread the earth ...”

“Then a conflict began between this super-magician and the being to whom a virgin birth was ascribed, and one finds from one's research that it lasted for three years. ... The three-year conflict ended when Vitzliputzli was able to have the great magician crucified, and not only through the crucifixion to annihilate his body but also to place his soul under a ban, by this means rendering its activities powerless as well as its knowledge. Thus the knowledge assimilated by the great magician of Taotl was killed.”

The continuation of the legend quoted by Steiner deals with the way Uitzilopochtli came into the world (Sah. III).

“At Coatepec ... there lived a woman named Coatl icue, mother of the Centzonuitznaua. And their elder sister was named Coyolxauhqui ... Coyolxauhqui said to them: ‘My elder brothers, she hath dishonored us. We [can] only kill our mother ...’ And upon this the Centzonuitznaua ... when they had expressed their determination that they would kill their mother, because she had brought about an affront, much exerted themselves ... But one who was named Quauitl icac ... informed Uitzilopochtli [who was not yet born]. And Uitzilopochtli said to Quauitl icac ‘... I already know what I shall do ...’

Then Quauitl icac said to him: ‘... At last they arrive here’ ... And Uitzilopochtli just then was born ... He pierced Coyolxauhqui, and then quickly struck off her head ... And Uitzilopochtli then arose; he pursued, gave full attention to the Centzonuitznaua; he pursued all of them around Coatepetl. Four times he chased them all around ... he indeed destroyed them; he indeed annihilated them; he indeed exterminated them ... And only very few fled his presence.”

It is startling to recognize how well these lines agree with what Steiner has given, and how fifteen centuries of oral tradition have only slightly altered the facts made available by occult investigation. According to Steiner's indications regarding the differences between white and black magic, the latter includes a strong dose of egoism, and permits the magician to investigate his own future for selfish aims (a practice, as Steiner often pointed out, forbidden to true occultists). The legend confirms this element of black magic when it speaks of the foreseeing of the birth of the man who is to fight against the forces of evil, and of the attempt made to prevent his incarnation. This is clearly shown in the dialogue between Quauitl icac and Uitzilopochtli who, though not yet born, is fully conscious of his own mission. The three-year struggle indicated by Steiner has a good correspondence with the four times that the Centzonuitznauas were chased around Coatepetl, before they were finally wiped out. Since the great Taotl initiate would naturally be supported by a powerful troop of helpers all equally devoted to evil, the legend confirms that this was indeed the case when it speaks of how the Centzonuitznaua—i.e., the multitude of the Uitznaua—were “exterminated,” and “very few fled his presence” (i.e., not all), thus confirming that the mysteries continued to exist, even though, as indicated by Steiner, they had lost the greater part of their power.

One further remark on this subject, to be taken into consideration only as a possibility, a hypothesis. Steiner does not indicate the name of the great initiated black magician. The legend, however, is most explicit on the matter. The feminine personage (this would be part of the alteration over the centuries) who was the first to wish to prevent Uitzilopochtli from coming into the world, and who was the first to be killed (pierced, as the legend says, in this suggesting the crucifixion) since she was the principal enemy, is Coyolxauhqui (Coyolli meaning fish-hook and xauhqui meaning adorned or decorated). Might this not be the name, or a corruption of the name of the great black magician? And indeed it may be easily imagined that a personage of this kind did not take part personally in the struggle against Uitzilopochtli and his forces, but was only the inspirer of the war waged by his (her?) troops to preserve his knowledge and power intact against the most deadly of his enemies.

The only real contradiction in our hypothesis results from the reversing of the time sequence. According to Steiner it was at the end of the Three Years' War that the black magician was put to death, whereas in our quotation the death of Coyolxauhqui occurred before the final disastrous conflict. This could be a question of one more alteration, or one could perhaps entertain the hypothesis that the magician's name was Uitznaua, or, more likely, a variant of this name-Uitznaua being a plural word designating a Mexican tribe.

The Aztec rites at the period of the Conquest were only a vestige of what was “flourishing” at the beginning of our era. In view of the particular character of these rites it is in keeping with them that a demonical character should have been attributed to Uitzilopochtli. As Sahagun says, “Uitzilopochtli was ... an omen of evil.” (Sah. I). But their transitory character by comparison with the original orientation of these rites in the past might well have resulted in an all-embracing syncretism, combined with fear and veneration toward Uitzilopochtli. And indeed the documents do give evidence of this mixture. The “diabolical” Uitzilopochtli is at the same time the god of a paradise that is fervently desired. As Cortés says in his Third Letter: “They all desired to die and go to ‘Ochilibus’ (Uitzilopochtli) in heaven, who was awaiting them ...” This attitude is also to be found in their desire to be impregnated by this divinity as demonstrated in numerous religious ceremonies. “And of those who ate it, it was said, “they keep the god.” (Sah. III).

Steiner's third statement gives us information about Tezcatlipoca.

“Many opposing sects were founded with the objective of countering this devilish cult (of Taotl). One such sect was that of Tezcatlipoca. He too was a being who did not appear in a physical body, but who was known to many of the Mexican initiates, in spite of the fact that he lived only in an etheric body.”

Compare this with the story as told by Sahagun:

“Third Chapter, which telleth of the god named Tezcatlipoca ... he was considered a true god ...” (Sah. I).

“... even as an only god they believed in him ... he was invisible, just like the night, the wind. When sometimes he called out to one, just like a shadow did he speak.”(Sah. III).

By contrast with Uitzilopochtli who was both god and man, Tezcatlipoca is a real, veritable god, a clear confirmation of what Steiner says. This is reinforced by a striking agreement: The initiate (that is, “one,” i.e., aca (somebody) perceives “just like a shadow” (can iuhquj ceoalli, literally, only like shadow), that is to say, the etheric, the etheric body being remarkably suggested by the nahuatl term. Ceoalli means “the shadow made by the body when it intercepts the light;” not a shadow in the abstract sense, but something that is similar to the physical without actually being physical.

Let us continue with Sahagun: “When he (Tezcatlipoca) walked on the earth, he quickened vice and sin. He introduced anguish and affliction. He brought discord among people. ... But sometimes he bestowed riches—wealth, heroism, valor. ...” (Sah. I).

Since the point of view here is the same as that attributed to Taotl, it is natural that Tezcatlipoca should be seen as spreading evil in all its forms. But as in the case of Uitzilopochtli it is clear that there has been a noticeable syncretism, as may be seen in the way “sometimes” Tezcatlipoca (in quenman) benefits human beings.

Quetzalcoatl is the fifth being mentioned by Steiner:

“Another sect venerated Quetzalcoatl. He too was a being who lived only in an etheric body.” (24/9).

“He had much in common with the spirit whom Goethe described as Mephistopheles.” (18/9).

Bearing in mind that the great temple of Teotihuacan, belonging to the period with which we are concerned, was dedicated in part to Quetzalcoatl, we read as follows in Sahagun:

“Fifth Chapter, which telleth of the god named Quetzalcoatl. ... Quetzalcoatl—he was the wind.” (Sah. I).

“Third Chapter, which telleth the tale of Quetzalcoatl, who was a great wizard. ... This Quetzalcoatl they considered as a god; he was thought a god. ... And the Toltecs, his vassals, were highly skilled. Nothing was difficult when they did it. ... Indeed these (crafts) ... proceeded from Quetzalcoatl. ... And these Toltecs were very rich; they were wealthy. Never were they poor. They lacked nothing in their homes.” (Sah. III).

While taking note of the use of the same word “wind” (ehecatl) to characterize the substance of both Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca, a substance that we have identified as “etheric” in the sense indicated by Steiner, we may think we are also in the presence of a resume of the gifts acquired by Faust by virtue of his position as “vassal” of Mephistopheles—the word maceualli meaning “vassal” just as well as its more usual meanings of “merit” or “reward.”

We find also in the legends the antagonism between Tezcatlipoca and Quetzalcoatl, as indicated by Steiner. For example in the Annals of Cuauhtitlan there is mention of “Quetzalcoatl vanquished by the sorcery of Tezcatlipoca,” again equating him with Taotl as well as referring to his defeat, as described by Steiner. This antagonism may also be seen in certain rites, as when, for example, a priest playing the part of Quetzalcoatl “kills” the statue representing Uitzilopochtli.

“And upon the next day the body of Uitzilopochtli died. And he who slew him was (the priest known as) Quetzalcoatl. (Sah. III).

The mention in the Codex Florentin of the vassals of Quetzalcoatl, that is to say of a kind of clan devoted to this divinity, implies the existence of a division of opinion among the Mexicans. It is possible to glimpse this dichotomy in the prayer addressed to the “good” Tezcatlipoca: “O lord of the war ... pity me; give me what I require as my sustenance, my strength, of thy sweetness, thy fragrance.” (Sah. III).

Then, a few lines later, we learn that “And also of Totlacuan (Tezcatlipoca) they said that he also gave men misery, affliction ... he stoned them with plagues, which were great and grave ...”

Having in mind the text of Steiner it would seem that we are here faced with an attribution of the evil deeds of Quetzalcoatl to Tezcatlipoca. But as the point of view adopted in the Codex is primarily that of Taotl, it is in keeping with this that, as was the case of Uitzilopochtli, the enemy should be clothed with the attributes of evil.

Another important agreement between Steiner and the traditions is provided by the cosmogony: the first era (Four Ocelot) of the great ages was presided over by Tezcatlipoca, then the second (Four Winds) was rules by Quetzalcoatl, in this in conformity with the “sending” of Quetzalcoatl, in order to combat the already existing influence of Tezcatlipoca.

We shall now broach the subject of the ritual of the excision—of the stomach, according to Steiner; of the heart, according to what is to be found in all the widely known documents on the subject. But before continuing, let us mention one detail that is in fact of crucial importance; we have found in Steiner's personal library a book in which the tearing out of the heart is related. As Steiner all through his life gave evidence of a capacity for reading that is quite extraordinary, it is entirely reasonable to conclude that he knew about this rite of the tearing out of the heart.

In 1904, in #22 of the ethnological review Globus, Fischer for the first time, as far as we know, brought to the attention of the world a figurine in nephritic stone, which we reproduce here.

This statuette of unknown origin, now in the Linden Museum of Stuttgart, shows two openings hollowed out one above the other. The upper orifice, which penetrates into the body to a distance of 80 mm, begins at the sternum and ascends at an angle of about 45° and constitutes a cavity that is almost spherical. Its opening has a diameter of 16 mm and when it is 5 mm into the body it is enlarged to 22 mm. Fischer, as well as Seler in his 1904 communication to the Congress of Americanists, confirms that this is a cavity that reminds us of the rite of the tearing out of the heart. We indeed share this opinion, especially in view of the fact that the usual method for plucking out the heart is via an incision under the sternum, the priest having to thrust his hand upwards to grasp the heart. That this was his method of taking hold of it is confirmed by the inclination upwards of about 45° of the cavity, and its roundness corresponds likewise to the global form of the heart.

The second cavity, less deep than the first—penetrating only 40 mm into the body—is oval, and its opening has the dimensions of 11.5 by 18 mm. It also becomes wider in the interior. From being 10 mm at the orifice its diameter is widened to 28 mm. By contrast with the upper cavity—that of the heart—it ascends only very slightly. Seler, not having any definite argument to put forward, supposes that the second cavity merely indicates the absence of the navel or umbilical cord. Now bearing in mind the way in which the first cavity corresponds to the heart and the manner in which it was torn out, from an anatomical point of view it is clearly the stomach that corresponds to this ovoid cavity—the stomach, unlike the heart, being directly accessible as soon as the excision is made. Hence the depth, as well as the very slight upward inclination by comparison with the heart. We may also make the observation that the two organs, slightly off center toward the left in the human body, correspond very well to the two openings made one above the other.

The detailed analysis made by Seler of this figurine, which is carefully and totally covered with symbols, arrives at the conclusion that the statuette—aside from its connection with Xolotl and Tlaloc—represents Tlauizcalpantecutli, the god of the planet Venus. But an unusual feature, and noted as such by Seler, is that this is here a divinity with the attributes of Quetzalcoatl. Unusual though this may be it is not, however, unique, for the Codex Borgia—as Seler points out in the same analysis—shows Quetzalcoatl emerging from the mouth of the god of the Wind as the planet Venus. And as the Wind god is Quetzalcoatl himself we have here a kind of double within the duality Quetzalcoatl-Venus. The nephritic figurine therefore presents us, in what is certainly very esoteric symbolism, an unexpected link, as far as our present documents are concerned, between Quetzalcoatl, god of the planet Venus, and the tearing out of the stomach—a conjecture that we go so far as to regard as almost certain. And since the planet Venus is among other things the seat of the Luciferic forces this idol is a noteworthy illustration of the Ahriman-Lucifer duality linked to the tearing out of the stomach as it is also to the tearing out of the heart. This is, from an occult point of view, an insignificant inference from the indications given by Steiner.

There remains one last problem which, for the moment, is still awaiting solution: the indication by Steiner that Europeans were put to death by having their stomachs torn out—and the remarks with which Steiner follows this statement constitute the real riddle here. “The fact is even known to history,” he tells us and “this is a matter of historical knowledge.” Though we cannot pretend to resolve this contradiction, we may propose two directions for research along the lines we have followed here. Either Steiner is quoting some historical work without naming it—perhaps a book available only in German—which tells of the association mentioned above. Or else Steiner, after examining some iconographic elements of the documents concluded that the stomach was the organ referred to when it was tacitly traditionally accepted as being the heart.

In the new (1984) German edition of the present cycle the editor tells us that Rudolf Steiner's library contained a book by Charles V. Heckethorn entitled Geheime Gesellschaften, Geheimbünde und Geheimlehren, in which both the excisions, the heart and the stomach, are referred to, and these were said to have been practiced on the Spaniards as well as on others. However, this book, which is not a historical but a popular work, contains descriptions that are very approximate and no doubt partly imagined; and it is clear that Heckethorn has not read Sahagun's work edited by Bustamente in Spanish in 1829 and in French by Siméon in 1888. In view of the fact that Steiner provides very precise descriptions that are not those given by Heckethorn, nor those that have come down to us in any historical documents known to us, we do not believe that Steiner, as the editor says in a footnote, relied on this book, especially when we keep in mind that it is absolutely not a “historical” reference book. So the problem remains still unsolved.

To conclude we should like to begin the second part of our discussion by outlining a number of reflections on the subject of the methodology of the study of what are commonly called “mythologies.” It is possible in a schematic but not altogether incorrect manner to separate two fundamentally different tendencies. The first adopts an anthroposophical viewpoint, held by only an almost negligible minority of officially recognized scholars. These hold that mythologies are the remnants of what were once clairvoyantly perceived facts, that is to say, a perceptible and comprehensible universe, formerly perceived in pictures. This approach was inaugurated by Steiner on the basis of his own personal investigations, which he only later compared with what had survived from ancient cultures. Today the anthroposophist, or someone who wishes to follow this path but lacks the capacities possessed by Steiner, aside from using his awakened sensibilities which can indeed be of real help to him, can only place the totality of what Steiner has taught about the spiritual world over against the mythological facts as they are revealed by the various traditions.

The second path is the one taken by almost all current studies. The spiritual world is invariably regarded as nothing but the subjective creation of the individual, and no effort is therefore made to look for anything truly suprasensible. Looked at from a strictly logical point of view, which ought to predominate in any scientific study, it is entirely legitimate to regard mythical facts as purely subjective, in the absence of clear, controlled and understandable suprasensible perceptions. But such premises must they always be looked upon solely as working hypotheses, and never as untouchable dogmas overruling all other considerations. Indeed the difference between hypothesis and dogma is fundamental. A hypothesis as such never loses sight of its contrary hypothesis, and results alone can eventually eliminate one of the premises. Another unscientific defect may be noted in the attribution of an exclusively subjective character to mythologies: from the point of view of logic the inability to perceive the suprasensible cannot lead one to affirm that such perception does not exist! A man blind from birth cannot do otherwise than recognize that for him colors do not exist. But the same blind man would commit an egregious error in elementary logic if he were to conclude that in the case of everyone else colors are also subjective and not perceived, and if he were to insist also that the names given to colors are therefore meaningless! Although this example may be a little crude it is nevertheless a fair picture of the abnormal situation in which every science that claims to be serious finds itself at the present time.

A second feature of this orientation is its conceptual framework which results in a poverty of concepts that most of the time drives one to despair. Thus Coyolxauhqui is abstractly associated with both “moon” and “goddess” to make her “goddess of the moon.” But what does this association mean in reality? The unlikely ceremony of flaying (practiced in the Mexican rites) is supposed to be a “commemoration” of the simple process of husking the ears of corn—and this, in spite of the varied and extraordinary social consequences, the frenzied emotions of the participants, and the outlandish reversal of the natural order of things involved in a rite of this kind!

A well-known reaction to this type of excessively naive speculation exists today in all those tendencies comprised under the general name of structuralism, especially in the works of Levi-Strauss, who looks upon mythology as nothing but imaginative pictures constructed out of the social and geographical realities of a given epoch. If we examine closely the “studies” of Levi-Strauss we find they are based on a kind of fundamental dogmatism. They give the illusion of being impeccably scientific, but in fact they lead to a bewildering series of vicious circles. Instead of regarding materialism as simply a working hypothesis yet to be proved, materialism is put forward as a dogma, and conclusions are then deduced from the original dogmatic content. The logical worth of this kind of procedure can be illustrated from the following picture. Let us imagine an ethnologist blind from birth who is investigating a tribe made up persons with more or less seriously defective eyesight, who are the distant descendants of ancestors whose sight was normal. His informant will tell him about the round shape of the sun and explain that it is the source of heat, the latter being the only aspect of the sun that is perceptible to the blind ethnologist. Since the ethnologist denies the existence of any other kind of perception than his own he will seek to “explain” the round shape of the sun by taking under consideration all the other facts he can find associated with the sun—what the structuralists call the infrastructures. It is easy to imagine that there may be “real” facts in the sense in which the ethnologist conceives of them, which will permit him to associate the source of heat with the round shape of the sun. His learned work of explanation will certainly be coherent and in a certain way irrefutable, but it will be at the same time absurd, the round shape being simply the result of ordinary perception, shared by everyone except the ethnologist! Broadly speaking, that is the “scientific” edifice which is all we possess to explain the entire realm of mythology!

The objection might be raised that we are doing no better than the men whose work we are criticizing. Instead of the dogma of subjectivism we are substituting an equally dogmatic objectivism. Yet in fact there is a crucial difference. We are dealing here with two different conceptual frameworks, one provided by materialism and the other by anthroposophy, neither of them being of course perfected and completed systems. Faced with the data of mythology the first approaches them in a negative way, dogmatically rejecting what they claim to be, namely descriptions of real and not subjective facts, such as life after death, spirits, divinities and the like. By contrast the second approaches them positively. It tries to approach the data of mythology by entering into this material from within, so to speak, making use of a series of concepts which correspond exactly to the mythological symbols, not in an arbitrary manner but as the necessary complement to the percepts of which the symbols themselves are the reflected images. One can then raise the objection that the Steinerian system is just as subjective as the mythologies, and therefore lacks all objective validity. Aside from the fact that once the Steinerian system is known this objection might well disappear, the difference between the two conceptual systems might also be demonstrated objectively. This could be done on a statistical basis, the general principle applicable to all research that makes use of models.

The most coherent model is regarded as that which takes in the largest number of phenomena, and is therefore superior to any other model that covers fewer facts. Take, for example, the Aztec rite of flaying. Is there at the present time any serious psychological system that is coherent and applicable over a wide range of phenomena that can offer any explanation of how it could be that the unlikely sequence of tortures, murders, and rites so repulsive as to be scarcely imaginable, should have been the commemoration of the husking of a plant??? This pretended similarity between the flaying of a human being and the husking of a plant is surely an idea so far-fetched as to be totally worthless. Anthroposophical concepts are of course not waiting passively to be made use of for mythological studies, including studies of the kind just mentioned. But when the first steps in this direction have been taken, only then will the time come when we can talk of a confrontation between the facts and the fundamental teachings of anthroposophy—not a confrontation between anthroposophy and the present materialistic edifice constructed from the beginning out of pure dogmatism, but an undogmatic examination of the material and non-material remains (for example mythology, popular stories and the like) just as they were at the time of their original discovery. This examination should not be based on the dogmatic notions prevalent at that time, which, as far as present day popular and scholarly opinion is concerned, have indeed endured to this day.

Materialism possesses no concept capable of being applied in a positive manner to Uitzilopochtli, who was both a god and at the same time only a man. It is obliged to flatten out the original texts, thus implicitly showing its contempt for their authors; and it can only condescendingly refrain from paying any attention to what appears to it as at most a piece of poetic imagery—for example, Tezcatlipoca appearing like a shadow. This bespeaks neither a true scientific spirit, nor does it show any sign of a true respect for others. When will all this change?

Frédéric Kozlik
France, 1984