The Rudolf Steiner Archive

7. From Buddha to Christ

[ 1 ] Within our European intellectual culture today, one can utter the name of Buddha with feelings quite different from those of fifty years ago; indeed, one must bear in mind that the greatest mind of our culture, Goethe, knew nothing of Buddha. It is precisely here that we can see how feelings change. There is widespread interest in Buddha today. Where does this interest come from, which is present across broad segments of society? Why is the name of Buddha familiar not only in academic circles? This is connected to the development of humanity and to the influx of spiritual elements into this development—elements that will become part of the common heritage in the future. I would like to draw attention to what is connected with the interest shown in Buddha—an interest that promises to become a matter of the heart, a matter of the soul. At first, people do not always judge matters of the soul correctly when they [make their way into human development]. Now something is taking place today that occurred [in a similar way] several centuries ago in a field that lay somewhat apart from the main current of interest, when the ancient scholars, misled by imprecise observation, refused to accept Francesco Redi’s statement, “Life comes only from life.” We see in this a parallel to our own time, which also feels compelled to reject the statement “The spiritual-soul-related originates only from the spiritual-soul-related”—precisely because of imprecise observation.

[ 2 ] It is believed that a person’s inner dispositions are inherited solely from the father and mother. Of course, those who do not believe in spiritual essence cannot go any further; but those who recognize the realities of the spiritual world will find it self-evident that a person’s spiritual-soul nature originates from a previous spiritual-soul nature, and that this spiritual-soul nature draws upon the predispositions of the ancestors—that is, that there is a core essence. And that is the doctrine of reincarnation. Just as an animal is the repetition of its species, so is a human being the repetition of their individuality. What we see developing within us here as inner gifts is nothing other than what we have acquired in previous earthly lives. Just as every plant can thrive only in soil suited to it—just as the edelweiss, for example, can take root only in the high mountains—so every human being seeks out the environment that forms the foundation for his or her destiny, because the environment that is conducive and suitable for him or her exerts a force of attraction upon him or her. Thus, this person is born in this country and this language region, in this family, while that person is born in that country and that family—because his individual character dictates it. This is the law of karma: We shape our own destiny. To many, this seems fantastical, and it is child’s play to refute it from a scientific standpoint. But just as Francesco Redi was compelled by scientific facts to articulate his assertion that “Life comes only from life,” so are we compelled to articulate the statement: “The soul and spirit come only from the soul and spirit.” Just as Francesco Redi’s statement was misunderstood, so too will ours be misunderstood. Yet every new truth provokes resistance—and we can draw courage from the experiences of the past.

[ 3 ] Now the question arises: Why do people not remember their past lives on Earth? This ability to remember can be attained—though it is difficult—but it must be possible to trace a thread back to previous lives on Earth. Well, people today are generally unable to grasp this; modern Europeans are not even able to remember as far back as their birth, and the early years remain a mystery to them. We have heard that remembering begins when the sense of “I” emerges in the soul. We also know that the sense of “I” stands like a wall between us and the past, and that we therefore cannot look into the spiritual world. If we understand this, then we can also understand what kind of work is required to penetrate past earthly lives. Rigorous spiritual exercises are part of this: the “I” must be set aside; the “I” must become objective; whatever may come must meet us with complete serenity. It is difficult to achieve and put this into practice—not merely in theory, but in one’s inner life—but through this one attains an [independent stance toward the “I”]. Thus, we are living in a crucial time. The human brain will think differently when it must acknowledge that everything is cause and effect [of a past life]. This is something that profoundly affects everyone. Humanity must mature to this point.

[ 4 ] We will understand how people today can take an interest in the teachings of the Buddha: Buddhism, as a religious tradition, includes the doctrine of reincarnation—albeit not quite as it is understood in Theosophy. Thus, interest in Buddhism is connected to something that is at work in humanity today. Now we must ask ourselves: How does this truth fit into the fabric of European culture? How does it relate to Christianity? For our culture is entirely based on Christianity, and all opponents of Christianity have drawn their concepts from the Christian arsenal. For those who think in this way [in the sense of the doctrine of reincarnation], the question arises: How can the Christian impulse be reconciled with this concept? Even without Buddhism, the doctrine of reincarnation would have to crystallize out of European culture.

[ 5 ] If you read a book about Buddhism today, you will find many [specific] terms: “Nirvana” [for example] is presented as the ultimate goal for Buddhists; “Nirvana” is a place associated with extinction, with the annihilation of all existence—it simply cannot be put into words, since there is no word for nothingness. One could engage in lengthy discussions about what the Buddha meant by this. But let us simply try to discern the underlying sentiment, to contrast Buddhism and Christianity, and to juxtapose the Buddhist’s experience with that of the Christian. First, there is a story in Buddhist tradition: The wise King Milinda visits an enlightened master and wishes to hear about the mysteries of life. The conversation unfolds as follows. The enlightened one asks: “How did you get here?” — The king replies: “By chariot.” — The wise man looks at the chariot; he sees the wheels: “Are these wheels the chariot?” — “No, they are not.” — “Is this seat the chariot?” — “No, it is not.” These are merely the parts of the chariot, yet all the parts together do not yet constitute the chariot. So what else is there? — Name and form. All the individual parts truly exist, but together they are merely name and form. Name and form, however, are something unreal, just like the mango fruit on the tree, which shares only name and form with the fruit from which the tree grew. — What does the sage mean by this? The concept of reincarnation was self-evident to him. Thus, he explains how, in this present life, a person shares only name and form with his previous life. The Buddhist does not acknowledge a continuous self that passes through the various incarnations—he acknowledges only name and form. He sees the individual parts of the chariot, united by name and form into a whole. This does not correspond exactly to the Buddha’s teachings, but what matters is the insights a follower of Buddhism arrives at.

[ 6 ] Now let’s apply this parable to a Christian context: Let’s imagine a Christian sage speaking with a Christian king. Let’s imagine that the conversation unfolds just as the one mentioned above, but at the end, the sage—in the spirit of Christianity—would have to say: You cannot judge by a mere name, by a mere form. These are words behind which something real, something spiritual, must lie. This mango fruit at the top of the tree has become identical to the fruit that was the origin of the entire tree, even though nothing physical connects them. There must be something there that has made them identical: something spiritual must be there. – Similarly, in the case of reincarnation, the Christian sensibility must assume the existence of a self that continues from one incarnation to the next. The Buddhist, on the other hand, sees the path from one incarnation to the next without recognizing the bond of a common self, and this gives him a sense of futility.

[ 7 ] The Buddha, the prince who had grown up without ever knowing suffering, was deeply moved when he saw a sick person for the first time—at that moment, the concept of suffering dawned upon him. When he saw a corpse for the first time, he realized: Death is suffering. And now it dawned on him: Life is suffering; being born is suffering; being sick is suffering; separation from what we love is suffering—everything is suffering. Why is everything destined to be suffering?

[ 8 ] Now imagine a person like the Buddha, facing this mystery of life. Many lives before, many lives after—and always, always just suffering, suffering! He felt the urge to explore this, and a long quest followed. When enlightenment came to him—what we refer to as “sitting under the Bodhi tree”—he realized: The passion, the thirst for existence, stems from past incarnations, and this is connected to life. Therefore, suffering is connected to the thirst for existence; therefore, if suffering is to cease, the thirst for existence must be extinguished. He articulated this in his sermon at Benares. Through one’s own efforts, a person can reach a state of indifference toward existence and thereby extinguish all previous incarnations and free oneself from suffering. There is nothing in the world that cannot cause us suffering. If we free ourselves from everything, we can enter Nirvana. We cannot describe Nirvana, for we lack the concept for absolute nothingness; we must simply set aside everything that exists in our imagination. The ideal of Buddhism is the extinction of existence. The Buddha stands before us and says: I look back on many incarnations. In my present body, I know that I must free myself from all thirst for existence. My previous incarnation drove me toward this body—the very thing that now compels me to free myself from physicality. I know with absolute certainty that each time, the spiritual has built the body for me as a temple; but my goal is never to return to such a temple of the body—I feel this.

[ 9 ] Let us now contrast this feeling with the Christian one. In the Gospel of John, Christ Jesus says of the temple of his body: “Destroy it, and I will rebuild it in three days.” Christ Jesus has the will within himself to no longer leave behind what earthly life is. This is not suffering, but something that is meant to be developed. Even if many more incarnations are to come: continually improve your temple; live every earthly life in such a way that you continue to perfect yourself. When we allow the warmth of the Gospel to take effect within us, we ask: What did Christ bring? — The answer is: In the Christ impulse, we find the indication that life can be purified. Buddha descends to be freed from incarnations; Christ descends to make life perfect. Buddhism is a doctrine of salvation, but Christianity is a doctrine of resurrection! Christ says: If you attain the Higher, you will rise ever higher, and something new will arise. The Christian impulse is compatible with the concept of reincarnation—it is strong enough to accommodate it. Why is that so? Because Christ is not merely a teacher. It is significant that Christ wrote nothing down himself, for what is essential is his deed—his deed on Golgotha has eternal significance.

[ 10 ] The historical event at Golgotha is the seed of something other than liberation from suffering. Is birth suffering? No. – Is death suffering? No. – Is separation from those one loves suffering? No. — For death leads to new birth, and every birth brings strengths that are exhausted by life. Illness, however, is purification; overcoming illness leads to strengthening. Not being united with those one loves is not suffering, for the Christian knows the realm of the Spirit, where what belongs together is united. Nor is being connected to those one does not love a form of suffering, for the Christian seeks to live in love. To infuse everything with the spirit of Christ—that is Christianity. To learn through suffering, to learn through happiness—that is what we, as Christians, seek.

[ 11 ] And so we see the great difference in the development that stretches from Buddha to Christ. One religion is a religion of salvation; the other, a religion of resurrection. But then we will also understand how the Buddhist believer cannot even approach the Self. Sensations, feelings, ideas, consciousness—none of this is the Self. The Christian, on the other hand, says: The Self is everywhere. The spiritual Self lies behind everything, but we do not see it because we are unable to perceive it. [Let us strive for] the resurrection of our Self through Christ—so that the Spirit may shine out to us from every stone, from every tree. And so Western spiritual life has nothing to gain from Buddhism, but by embracing the doctrine of reincarnation, it can gain much, very much indeed. And just as Buddha linked the teaching of suffering to a corpse, so, several centuries later, we see people looking up at a corpse. A corpse became a source of comfort and strength for them: Christ on the cross.