The Rudolf Steiner Archive

10. From Jesus to Christ

[ 1 ] Ladies and gentlemen! Anyone who takes a close look at our spiritual life will realize how profoundly the mystery associated with the name of Jesus Christ permeates our contemporary education. And it is fair to say that all the questions affecting the present—as has undoubtedly become clear in recent years—are the consequence of the Christ or Jesus problem, one of the most significant problems of all. We have even seen that even men of our time, who believe themselves to be beyond what they call the “religious prejudice of Christianity,” are intensively engaged with this problem. For example, there is the fact that interest in this enigma has been shown from a more or less monistic perspective. Yet the question that comes to light here is one that, ever since Christianity has existed—ever since it first appeared—has been the subject of attempts to resolve it in the most diverse, the most profound, and at times also the most superficial ways.

[ 2 ] Since we must proceed from a very specific point of view—namely, that of spiritual science—let us consider the underlying factors from which the particular perspective actually arises that our present age applies to this mystery. We must then recognize—and this is particularly characteristic of our present age—that a powerful contrast emerges in people’s souls and hearts: on the one hand, there is a need, an intense longing, to know something about the questions that have occupied the human spirit since time immemorial; on the other hand, we see the fragmentation and chaos that come to the fore. While people, in a sense, feel too soft or show themselves to be too weak to truly tackle this problem in all its depths, there are, on the other hand, experts in this field who are engaged with it in the most thorough manner, anticipating some new revelation or some new development regarding this problem.

[ 3 ] The peculiarity of this question is already contained in the two names that come to mind: “Christ” and “Jesus.” And if we take just a brief look at what has happened over the course of the centuries—beginning with the time of the evangelists and the first Christians and continuing through the ages—we are confronted with the question: How can a human being form a conception of how the divine essence of Christ could incarnate itself in a human being, in a human body? How is it possible that the divine nature accomplished within a human body what is called redemption? In short, we can say that what has so deeply preoccupied humanity throughout the ages is the question: How could Christ appear on earth; how did that very union of the two beings—Christ the God and Jesus the human—come about? But the closer we come to the present, the more the question takes on a different form. The question takes on a form—and this is what is remarkable—that is entirely adapted to the prevailing cultural perspective that humanity has gradually arrived at. When we look at the present, we find virtually the opposite pole, the complete antithesis of what was recognized regarding the question of Christ in the very early days of Christianity.

[ 4 ] One could point to hundreds upon hundreds of cases similar to the one I am about to highlight. In a magazine from 1861, published in Switzerland, a man sympathetic to Christianity tells us [roughly] the following: If I were compelled by anything to admit that Christ rose bodily from the dead, that the Resurrection is at all possible in the evangelical sense, then I would have to admit everything that, though inconsistent with my own worldview, somehow stands in my way; then I would have to conclude that my entire worldview is flawed. – How many people today, including religious scholars and theologians, would have to make such a confession in exactly the same way! If they were to reflect on it, they would come to the conviction that they would have to confess exactly the same thing.

[ 5 ] Let us contrast this confession with what Paul said when he spoke:

If Christ has not been raised, then your works are in vain, and your faith is also in vain.

[ 6 ] If one immerses oneself in what Paul says, one must admit: The most essential thing that permeates his message is the fact that Christ has risen. One must admit that Christianity loses all meaning if the mystery of the Resurrection is removed—if that which occurred for the sake of humanity’s development is set aside. Paul regarded the Resurrection as the most essential element, as the lifeblood of the Christian worldview. And in our time, things have come to the point—and this is deeply significant—where certain people tell themselves that if they were to acknowledge the Resurrection, their entire worldview would be shattered.

[ 7 ] It does not exactly strike a favorable chord with someone who has not yet had these things glossed over to find the fundamental question of Christianity—for that is what is at stake here—presented to the soul in this form. However, theosophy’s task is not to whitewash things, so to speak, but to characterize them by their true names. In a certain sense, no era can exist in and of itself, [out of its own nature]; the general character of an era is also expressed in its conception of the Christ question. In the nineteenth century, we see the Christ question transformed into a Jesus question; we see how, through the progress of science, it has become increasingly impossible for people to see in the man Jesus of Nazareth a divine-spiritual being incarnate, as he could have been seen in ancient times. As the Gospels became more and more accessible through [the spread of] education, people delved deeply into them, and their souls were, as it were, drawn upward toward something divine. Then a gradual shift took place from the most paradoxical conceptions of Christ Jesus to what many theologians now profess, namely, that one must assume Jesus was merely a particularly outstanding personality in the course of world history—that is, that what humanity regards as the highest ideal was present in him to a [particularly] great degree. He is seen merely as a human being, albeit one elevated to a higher level.

[ 8 ] Of course, one finds all manner of nuances in the views regarding Christ Jesus. Thus, in the eighteenth century, we are confronted with the fact that people projected into the question of Christ Jesus only what they could imagine or conceive. To the Enlightenment thinker Reimarus, for example, Christ Jesus appears to be little more than a particularly outstanding human being. [Lessing, on the other hand, harbored a substantially different spiritual image.] He once stated that he wished to live to see the day when someone would emerge who could thoroughly refute what was being spread about Christ Jesus. Everything [at that time] was based on criticism of the Gospels, particularly on the contradictions—specifically those that come to light when comparing the various accounts of the Resurrection. The obvious conclusion was that the reporters had transmitted something that was not real—which, however, is by no means a fact.

[ 9 ] When witnesses are questioned about any matter and give differing testimonies, this is by no means proof against the fact itself. If we now imagine a universal trial and ask, “Are these witnesses credible?”—this is not the right question; rather, there is another question that is the only decisive and important one: Who won this trial? — Undoubtedly, Christianity, which was based on the fact of the Resurrection, emerged victorious in world history. The fact remains, therefore, that even if the witnesses gave differing testimonies, the trial itself has been decided.

[ 10 ] The time was drawing ever closer when the matter was framed in such a way that any possibility of conceiving of something superhuman in it vanished—or, to put it in the spirit of that era: The time is drawing ever closer when it will become impossible to think and speak of the Resurrection as one originally did. Therefore, in the nineteenth century, the study of religious history initially focused on forming a picture of Jesus the man based on the Gospels. We need not discuss here what was done with the Gospels, how attempts were made to compile the parallel accounts [synoptically] so that an approximately uniform overall picture would emerge, or how attempts were even made to completely exclude the Gospel with the most supernatural content—the Gospel of John—by arguing that it was merely a hymn to the individuality of Jesus of Nazareth. But there were also other nineteenth-century scholars who argued that the entire Christian faith would have to be abandoned if the Gospel of John were no longer recognized. One scholar—who, though considered outdated today, was once of great significance—emphatically pointed to the facts specific to the Gospel of John. Yet all efforts were aimed at presenting the human Jesus credibly to the soul; in doing so, however, one had to rule out from the outset many things that, although they appear in the Gospels, could no longer be believed in the nineteenth century, and one set aside a great many facts—such as miracles and so on—thereby eliminating any possibility of acknowledging anything supernatural.

[ 11 ] It was therefore particularly significant when a nineteenth-century theologian who lived in Basel, Franz Overbeck, wrote a very remarkable book that he titled *On the Christian Nature of Contemporary Theology*. This book is remarkable not only for its content, but it is also significant for anyone interested in such matters as an expression of the confession of a man who, throughout his entire life as a theologian, had to grapple in the most difficult way with the fact that he had to stand before his students with the very feelings that dwelled in his soul. Overbeck had to wrestle with this reality until he was finally compelled to voice what lived in his soul. Anyone versed in such matters will truly behold a tumultuous destiny when tracing the remarkable life story of Overbeck of Basel, who, when it came down to it, answered the question—Can theology today still be called Christian at all if it is at the same time a science? —a question to which he answered only “no.” As a theologian, he sought to prove that theology, as a science, could not possibly be Christian, for every science—so Overbeck believed—must do away with and break with much of what constitutes the fundamental meaning of any religion; the moment a pre-Christian religion came into contact with science, it underwent a process of decomposition, and so it was with Christianity as well: Science destroys Christianity under all circumstances and must always be its adversary.

[ 12 ] When this is stated, it may not strike a deep chord, and in a certain sense, it may even be easily accepted by the layperson. But when one is confronted with a time that compels such a significant theologian to make such a confession, one cannot help but feel how profoundly the corresponding question [regarding the relationship between Christ and Jesus]—the Christ-Jesus problem—actually affects our current development. And Overbeck says something else as well, namely something like the following: Whatever thoughts or scholarly arguments we may bring to bear on the Christian worldview, all of that must seem to us to be appallingly small and inadequate to serve as a foundation for the Christian creed. In the early days, Christians lived with the idea that a new world was coming, but soon a different era dawned, and it was no longer the doctrines of the Church Fathers that nourished Christianity. At first, there was hope for the coming of heaven to earth, but eventually there arose the sense that this world could never satisfy the human heart; an ascetic mood began to take hold.

[ 13 ] In our present age, we see that people place great value on scientific truths—these truths simply make sense; they conquer the world of the external senses, and thus we see the driving force of religious faith lying dormant within human beings. Who would not admit that this is deeply, deeply characteristic of our time? Is it not poignant, shattering, that what gave comfort and hope to thousands upon thousands is losing more and more of its own power? Let us consider a fact: It was in 1873 that an attempt was made in France to count those people who were still moved by Christ, and it was found that one-third of the total population still believed in him. Today, it is estimated that only about one-fifth of London’s total population is still imbued with Christianity. What good does it do, then, that those who are quick to come to terms with themselves say: “Why do we need a new justification? The old one is enough for us.”—Those who think only of themselves and are content with that may speak this way; but those who think of humanity and see how even the finest seekers of truth can no longer find support will have to admit that these are serious times, and that it is understandable when people long for a renewal of the old.

[ 14 ] And so it gradually came to pass that, on a theological foundation, a man named Jesus of Nazareth emerged, from whom all the supernatural had been stripped away. In the nineteenth century, a reaction of a peculiar nature also arose. One might say: In order to come to terms with the Christ problem, which had become completely lost amid the Jesus problem, people nevertheless sought to hold on to Christ, to acknowledge him. In doing so, however, they turned him into a being who, at heart, lacks any true reality. This has led to making Christ a mystical being who need not be bound by what the evangelists recount—people tried to set the Gospels aside, so to speak. It would lead to chaos if one were to address all the trends of the past decades—in any case, we are dealing with a crisis.

[ 15 ] For anyone who has followed this entire development, there is something to be recognized that is easy to understand. The synthesis of the mystical perspective with all that has been brought to light through Gospel research represents the final phase of this development. Something emerged that can be described as the union of these two currents, and the result was that people even began to doubt whether Jesus had ever lived at all. It is entirely in keeping with the spirit of our times that, once the purely external, historical standard had been applied to Jesus, people asked: Is there anything left in the Gospels at all that provides us with proof that Jesus lived? — Yet one has no right to deny that a Jesus existed, for there is good reason to conclude that the existence of Jesus is clearly provable. However, for anyone familiar with contemporary historical research and aware of the current state of Jesus research, it is impossible to provide proof of Jesus’ existence, for it is possible—if one so wishes—to challenge the authenticity of the Gospels. And one would have to be reckless not to admit that this challenge is based on quite significant grounds.

[ 16 ] But what does all this show us? It shows us that we are facing a crisis across the entire field [of Jesus research]. However, a new worldview has also found its way into contemporary education—one that initially makes it seem plausible that it draws on different sources of truth than those we have had up to now—I am referring to theosophy or spiritual science. If theosophy has something to say about Christianity and its origins, then it may well become necessary for religion and religious studies to engage with what theosophy says about Jesus Christ. It is therefore important to recognize that both sides are proceeding from certain fundamental, foundational events that have occurred and cannot be denied.

[ 17 ] What undoubtedly causes the greatest offense to our modern way of thinking is the story of the Resurrection—namely, that something occurred which we can no longer find comprehensible today, namely, that life triumphed over death. From a theosophical point of view, one can only say anything about this if one takes into account what lies closest at hand: namely, the inner realm of one’s own heart and soul. And what does this inner realm reveal to us? It reveals something that, admittedly, mainstream education cannot acknowledge; it reveals how it is possible for a person to experience an inner miracle at some point in their life. If this is to be regarded as a miracle—which can be characterized as standing in contrast to what pertains to the intellect—then it is a fact that such a miracle can take place within human nature. And for every soul in which this miracle has taken place, it is inwardly clear that miracles exist.

[ 18 ] It is a fact that there is an inner, mystical experience in which something enters the human soul that has no connection to the soul in the natural course of life. To understand this, one must trace the natural course of human life. It becomes clear that, alongside all the external facts of life, we are constantly dealing with a deeply inner life—we are dealing with the fact that the course of life manifests itself in the human soul. Let us take a soul that belongs to the struggling souls in life—not a scientific one. Let us take a human soul that grapples with the profound questions of existence, experiencing inner tragic fates, pain, and suffering, but also bliss and redemption. Let us take such a human soul that lives in these states of mind for years on end, and let us imagine that someone had not seen this person for ten years. They would make a remarkable discovery, namely that this inner struggle of the soul is expressed in changes to the person’s physiognomy, gestures, and so on. The spiritual struggle finds expression in the body. What takes place within a person works to transform their outward appearance.

[ 19 ] What is far more interesting, however, is the following: Anyone who struggles in this way senses that, once an answer or a solution to certain puzzles has emerged, they find themselves in a different state of mind. And what is characteristic is that once the solution has been found, the transformation of the physiognomy ceases and the expression remains constant. As long as the struggle continues, furrows form. Yet even this comes to an end; it is, as it were, as if the human body were reaching the limit of its elasticity. When a person reaches this limit, the physical transformation finally ceases. The forces of consciousness—the soul forces—are transformed. First they work on the body, and then, when this is no longer possible, they consciously work their way inward into the self. It has been observed that these human soul forces work inwardly throughout a person’s entire life, and it becomes apparent that sometimes something from what is at work in the depths of the soul rises into consciousness, manifesting itself in particularly strange dreams. This means that dream images reveal something of what is taking place within the soul.

[ 20 ] Let’s take a characteristic dream from real life that happened to a close friend of mine. As a young man attending middle school, he had to complete a drawing in his final year, and because the teachers knew he was talented, they gave him a particularly difficult subject—which is precisely why his progress on the assignment was rather slow. The end of the school year was approaching, and the student realized that there was no way he could finish in time, since only a small portion had been drawn. He felt anxious about this, but at the end of the school year, his work still satisfied the teachers, for they understood that it was precisely because of his great talent that he had made slow progress. The man grew older, took up the profession of an artist, and, strangely enough, this school experience recurred in his dreams at certain intervals; he relived everything exactly as it had once happened, except that the fear of not being able to finish was much, much greater in the dream. There were times when the dream recurred regularly for days on end, then it would stop for years, only to return again.

[ 21 ] One can truly understand the full significance of this dream experience only by comparing it to life. It turned out, in fact, that every time this dream experience came to an end, this person recognized an enhancement of his abilities; he was able to do more in terms of observing forms and expressing them through his hand; he experienced noticeable progress each time. Human beings work mentally and emotionally in the same way as this draftsman, and at times the workings of their soul are revealed, as it were, in dreams—in that peculiar state that lies between consciousness and unconsciousness, in that transition from the subconscious to the conscious. We see this throughout our entire lives.

[ 22 ] In human life, there is a crucial point up to which one can recall events in one’s life. Everyone must say: I remember up to a certain point, but what lies before that point is completely beyond my awareness, and I know about it only through the accounts of others. This point is the one at which we have learned to say “I.” But what was there before that point? Let us look at the child, with its clumsy movements and actions. We know that the human being’s most important organ, the brain, is still completely undeveloped when the child comes into being, and it is only during earthly life—until the child learns to say “I”—that it works on developing the organs of thought. We are thus dealing, apart from the human being’s spiritual-natural consciousness, with a supersensible-soul activity that is completely independent of it and which constitutes the starting point of that cerebral activity. That supersensible, soul aspect of the human being is characterized by the following example.

[ 23 ] It is common knowledge that Nietzsche ended his life in madness. In the period immediately preceding the onset of his madness, he wrote “troubling” letters to acquaintances, including the Basel theologian Overbeck, mentioned earlier. When Overbeck received one of these letters in the late 1880s, he knew he could no longer delay in going to Turin—where Nietzsche was staying—to bring his friend back. The following seems important as an example of what I have been saying: When Nietzsche met Overbeck, he paid no attention whatsoever to his surroundings; he let people do whatever they wanted with him and showed absolutely no interest. Only when he heard the name of the person standing before him—the very same man who had been his colleague for years—did it suddenly dawn on him: “That’s the psychiatrist I used to work with back then.” – And to Overbeck’s utter astonishment, Nietzsche began to continue a conversation right where it had been interrupted seven years earlier. A person who pays no attention to the outside world picks up a conversation right where it was left off seven years ago! Overbeck had, in the meantime, forgotten that conversation, but he immediately remembered it again. And it is strange: When Nietzsche was then taken to Jena and Overbeck visited him at the mental hospital, one could not talk to him about what was happening around him—only about what he had thought, conceived, emotionally struggled through, and experienced years ago; that was the only thing one could discuss with him.

[ 24 ] But what does this show us? It shows us that within the physical body lies a supersensory body. If one bases one’s views on facts, one must recognize what is at issue here as of the utmost importance. Human beings can only come into contact with the objective external world through their physical organs. Nietzsche’s organs were destroyed, and therefore he could no longer do this; yet the central spiritual core within the physical body remained unaffected. This single example, however, could be multiplied a hundredfold. The existence of this central spiritual core within the physical body cannot be denied, and it is a fact that, under certain circumstances, human beings are capable of glimpsing into the supersensible world. If, through strong will, we place symbolic thoughts at the very center of our consciousness in such a way that all our attention is focused on them and is not distracted by anything—if we look only at that and repeat it over and over again—for a year, and if a year is not enough, then for ten years: a result will eventually emerge. The soul comes to draw everything up from the depths; it looks into everything.

[ 25 ] This supernatural state cannot be attained with the help of ordinary tools, but rather through intimate spiritual practices. When a person has concentrated all their thoughts in this way and worked with them for long enough, they eventually reach a point where they say to themselves: Yes, I am now experiencing something within me that I am absolutely certain is something supernatural. But strangely, I cannot think about it in the way I usually think about things. – The person then feels something that comes to consciousness only for those who experience it, for at this moment of overcoming the resistance of the physical body, the brain is no longer capable of expressing what has been experienced. The person realizes: What they were accustomed to feeling in the soul now seeks to enter consciousness. But they sense: Although the physical instruments were suitable for their natural life up to this point, I am now experiencing something for which my brain is not yet sufficiently developed. The person then perceives the duality of the spiritual-soul being. They continue to experience how, at last, what was initially weak begins to work tangibly and perceptibly on the brain, on consciousness, and on the body.

[ 26 ] I have now described this course of development to you. This is not something arbitrarily conceived, nor is it a theory, but a fact that every true seeker of the spiritual can experience. But what does the seeker of the spiritual experience? He experiences what I have described as a “miraculous fact.” Something otherworldly enters the soul—something with which the person previously had no connection. One could describe what enters as a higher human being within the human being, as something that joins the spiritual aspect that was already there. Now a question might arise: “But surely only a small circle of people experiences such a thing—only the spiritual seeker who engages in these exercises with the soul.”—Yet what has just been described can be experienced by every soul, albeit in the most varied shades and degrees, corresponding to the individuality of each person. When we read the accounts of those people we call Christian mystics, we sense that, although these mystics did not experience what I have just described, something of a different nature has nevertheless entered these souls—something other than the existing spiritual reality. This transformation is called “resurrection.”

[ 27 ] Anyone who immerses themselves with the necessary devotion in the accounts of the Gospels will experience, to a greater or lesser extent, what I have described. However, even apart from studying the Gospels, anyone can experience and sense that there is a feeling within the soul that cannot be found in the soul’s natural course of life. The Bible, however, is the simplest way to bring a suprasensory-spiritual world into the horizon of consciousness. If one acknowledges this miraculous fact, then humanity provides a necessary complement to it, and this arises from theosophy itself. If we look back once more at what has been said about the central spiritual core, we see that this central spiritual core cannot be traced back to the mere beginning, to the formation of the body, for this central spiritual core is, after all, completely independent of the beginning of life and of human brain activity; rather, it must be traced back to a previous human life, so that we must speak of repeated earthly lives. What we have come to know as the central spiritual core, as a supersensible life, thus persists through death, and from this standpoint we stand on the ground of spiritual science.

[ 28 ] This view of repeated earthly lives has already found its way into our modern culture. Lessing felt compelled, out of an inner necessity, to speak of the repetition of life. He said: “If one considers the entire course of human development, it appears to be a comprehensive education of humanity.” – It would have seemed meaningless to Lessing if a soul had lived only to come to a complete end [with death]. Lessing imagined that the soul takes with it the lessons it has learned, [then returns to Earth with them, and so on. In this way, a unified organism would be created: the soul, which is in a state of development, does not die], but lives on forever, lives eternally. The nineteenth century, however, found little appeal in elaborating on this fact. Yet this fact emerges as a necessity. When, a few decades ago, a prize was offered for the best literary work on the topic “The Immortality of the Soul,” first prize was awarded to a work titled “The Immortality of the Soul Based on Repeated Earthly Lives.” This is proof that even back then, people were drawn to this concept of repeated earthly lives.

[ 29 ] When we consider the development of humanity, it becomes clear that it was only from a certain point onward that the human soul was able to experience that inner miracle—that certainty which [at first] approaches the soul as a question. We can distinguish two major epochs: the ancient, pre-Christian era, when human beings had not yet attained awareness of their “I,” and the era after Christ, when human beings enter the world while fully maintaining their self-aware “I.” Just as human descent can be traced back to a primordial being, so too must that which can manifest in the soul as an inner resurrection for each individual be traced back to a progenitor of this inner miracle. Just as the resurrection takes place for the individual human being, so too must the resurrection have taken place for humanity as a whole, and theosophy clearly shows us: What makes the individual human being different from others is what also made Jesus of Nazareth different from others.

[ 30 ] Just as we live with our central spiritual core, which is not limited by death, so too does the world, with its central spiritual core, follow its own law. Therefore, according to theosophy, the resurrection of the entire human race is, in essence, the very same miracle as the inner miracle experienced by the individual. After [Jesus’] physical body had been hung on the cross, the Spirit [of Christ] nevertheless continued to live. Let us consider Paul’s words in the Gospel that Christ died for humanity and rose again on the third day, that he then appeared first to Peter, then to more than five hundred people, and finally to Paul himself. He did not appear to Paul in the original form of Jesus, but in a spiritual form that Paul had to recognize as the form of Christ—a form such that the conviction arose of its own accord: Christ lives! We must speak of the risen Christ in no other way than to say that what lived in him spiritually, independent of the physical body, was not truly dead in death, but continued to exist and live on.

[ 31 ] It would take us too far afield today if I were to also explain what happened to the body. The most important thing is that Scripture clearly and unambiguously points out to us: From the moment of the Resurrection onward, we are dealing with the emergence of a new spiritual power that did not exist before—an outpouring of the Spirit. And that inner miracle traces back to the resurrection from the dead, to the continued life of the Christ who was crucified as Jesus of Nazareth. Christ made a new relationship with the spiritual world possible for humanity; thus the miracle of the Cross is the progenitor of all miracles that take place in human life. In this way, spiritual science shows us a path to Christ; it reveals Christ to us as one who is indispensable to humanity. Only a timid mind could sense danger in such a path to Christ, for every path leading to Christ that is based on truth must and will be welcome [to those who seek Christ].