The Rudolf Steiner Archive

12. Raphael in the Light of Spiritual Science

[ 1 ] Ladies and gentlemen! The topic chosen for this evening was not selected with the intention of linking spiritual science to a well-known historical phenomenon—as is often done in many other fields—and thus, from this perspective, to have an opportunity to speak about matters of spiritual science in relation to a long-established phenomenon. Rather, this topic arose because, when considering Raphael’s artistic work, certain perspectives can indeed present themselves to the modern spiritual researcher through the spiritual contemplation of our time—perspectives that, precisely in relation to this subject, compel us, so to speak, to adopt a spiritual-scientific approach. One may encounter this—as I have—by observing a phenomenon such as that which may strike one in the literary and artistic work of Herman Grimm. Herman Grimm, the brilliant art historian, has, as is well known, written a *Life of Michelangelo* which, however outdated it may be in detail today, makes a great impression on every receptive soul through the breadth of its perspectives and the coherence of its approach.

[ 2 ] Herman Grimm then also attempted—he himself describes it merely as an attempt—to write a “Life of Raphael.” Herman Grimm’s experience with this “Life of Raphael” was quite peculiar, and what happened to him in the process, so to speak, is bound to make a great impression on those who, through an ever-deepening immersion in Herman Grimm’s style of presentation and perspective, come to realize how, despite many justified criticisms that can be leveled against him, he possesses precisely what one might call a shared experience with his subject in every detail—a struggle to arrive at the views and opinions to which he advances. Well, he made an attempt—in the 1860s—to write about Raphael’s life; and at the end of his life, he admits that this attempt was not enough for him and that he repeatedly began to approach this task in a different way. We have an interesting fragment from Grimm’s estate, “Raphael as a World Power,” in which he tackled this task once more shortly before his death and in which he confesses that nothing he had written previously could satisfy him. He passed away while working on the final draft of these views on Raphael. But it is nonetheless interesting to observe how such a significant mind repeatedly tackled this task, how he took it up once more in the twilight of his life, and how he struggled to make Raphael comprehensible. This is evident from the fragment.

[ 3 ] The way he struggles to make Raphael understandable is particularly interesting, for in his attempt to describe and understand the world-famous painting *The Marriage of the Virgin*, located in Milan, he requires a significant, lengthy introduction—and this lengthy introduction is, in fact, a piece of world history. It is a reflection on the nature and essence of Roman culture, a reflection on the impact of the Christ impulse on this Roman culture, a reflection on the further development of this Christ impulse within European spiritual culture, followed by a further reflection on the renewed influence of Hellenism on the Roman spiritual culture of Raphael’s time. And in doing so, Herman Grimm asserts that it is necessary to consider all of this in order to understand this single painting by Raphael, “The Marriage of Mary,” for to him what is expressed in this painting seems so comprehensive, so springing forth from the entire development of the human spirit, that everything that has been felt, thought, and perceived within European spiritual life—from the impact of the Christ impulse up to the creation of this painting—appears to him to be mysteriously woven into Raphael’s creation. The title of this fragment on Raphael by Herman Grimm likely arose from sentiments stemming from such a view. It is called—and one might be tempted to find this strange—“Raphael as a World Power,” for Herman Grimm indeed feels inclined, in order to understand Raphael, to place him within all the causes, effects, and interconnections of modern spiritual life as a whole. Anyone who has a sense of how certain all-encompassing ideas arise in a human soul upon contemplating any object or entity will be able to empathize with what was going on in Herman Grimm’s soul when he wrote the following words in this, his last Raphael fragment:

Raphael is a figure in world history. He is like one of the four rivers that, according to the beliefs of the ancient world, flowed from Paradise.

[ 4 ] There may be many scholarly debates about Raphael’s significance, but one might say: Compared to all of them, it seems immensely significant that a contemplative human soul has been moved to make such statements about this spirit.

[ 5 ] If one allows such things to sink in—so to speak, purely from the spiritual life of our time, which, in Herman Grimm’s day, was not yet strongly influenced by what we today [in our circles] call spiritual science—one must recognize the urge toward a deeper contemplation of Raphael—the urge to view him in such a way that what he created appears, to the spiritual eye, to emerge from the continuous stream of human development. And indeed: whoever delves impartially into Raphael’s soul finds it—particularly through a certain kind of detachment from everything that surrounds it—to be a kind of revelation, for, no matter how hard one tries, one cannot succeed in taking what existed immediately in Raphael’s immediate surroundings and in his time as an explanation for why this extraordinary phenomenon has entered the spiritual course of humanity and presents to humanity precisely that which has had such a profoundly powerful effect on individual, devoted spirits. I would like to note from the outset that, of course, it will not be possible to go into detail in the course of this lecture, for one can really only speak fruitfully about individual paintings if one is able to show reproductions. [Rather, the aim is to use the premises just outlined—which arise from our present spiritual life—to guide us in a completely natural way toward a consideration of Raphael from the perspective of spiritual science.]

[ 6 ] In a certain sense, this Raphael seems to us—at most, if we consider him as a very young child—somewhat comprehensible in the context of his surroundings. As is well known, he was born in Urbino in 1483. The first impressions on his soul came from the construction of the palace in Urbino, which was an extraordinary event for its time and through which the soul of the very young Raphael was able to absorb what manifested itself not only in architectural forms but also in all the artistic decoration and the creative activity associated with the construction of this palace. These were impressions of which one can say: they are capable of shaping the soul in and of themselves. But then we see Raphael moved to Perugia, and when we consider life in Perugia during the time when Raphael was a painter’s apprentice there, the peculiar, isolated nature of Raphael’s soul immediately strikes us. As we trace life in Perugia, we perceive how it is filled with events that are, in part, repulsive to our modern sensibilities. Conflict after conflict rages between the various families among the passionate population of Perugia, and there is no doubt that Raphael was able to see there what permeated life—the stirring hatred and antagonism inherent in human nature.

[ 7 ] If we take this as our starting point and consider what Raphael’s art has offered in its serenity—which already strikes us in *The Marriage of the Virgin* (painted when he was twenty-one years old)—then we find that it is justified to say: This Raphael appears to us as a personality as if he were present only outwardly throughout this entire life in Perugia, touching it only with the hem of his garment, and actually merely gazed at it in relation to something I would like to describe not abstractly, but rather concretely, by directing our thoughts to a historian of that time who quite vividly depicts a scene that took place in Perugia in the 1490s. Through the vividness of the description, we truly become witnesses to how the leader of a displaced family from the surrounding area makes his way into Perugia; we are told how this leader of a displaced family, Astorre Baglione, rides into the city and appears like a Saint George, yet at the same time crushes everything that stands in his way. From the description by the chronicler Matarazzo, we sense that there was something grand, powerful, yet uncomfortably cruel about the scene. When we allow Raphael’s painting, “Saint George,” to make its full impression on us in its entirety, it seems to us as though Raphael had known this scene from reality, but as if, to his eye, all the cruel underpinning of reality had not existed—as if he had lifted the blossom from that cruel underpinning and elevated it to a creation of purely spiritual beauty and grandeur. It is precisely in the way it becomes part of Raphael’s entire creative process, the way it flows into his soul, that one sees how peculiarly isolated this soul is from its surroundings, and how these surroundings merely touch it, yet how he can bring forth from his own soul only that which he draws from them. Thus, this soul appears [to the viewer] as a revelation, as something placed within this environment that cannot be explained by the environment itself. When we take a look at the paintings by Raphael’s teacher in Perugia, Perugino, we see how, despite all of Perugino’s greatness, these paintings show us that something is presented before us in the individual holy figures of the Christian tradition—a representation of what a person can take in when Christianity is alive all around them. We see the individual figures of Christian legend placed side by side, as someone might do who, though a painter of a certain stature, knows things only from the outside. As these paintings appear to us, we sense everywhere the path from Christian tradition—from what was alive in the Christianity of that time—to Perugino’s canvas. Then we trace the works of his student, Raphael. Here the situation appears different to us: we behold a soul that animates from within everything that the other artist—Perugino—has depicted. Everywhere we see Raphael’s own soul, a spirit that did not simply absorb Christianity as it was lived in his environment at the time, but rather a spirit to whose soul all the origins of Christian impulses are linked. It is perhaps no exaggeration to put it this way: it is as if Christianity itself had conjured its soul onto a canvas painted by Raphael.

[ 8 ] And then we follow him further, as he arrives in Florence in 1504 and in Rome in 1508. He arrives in Florence at a time when a significant wave of spiritual renewal—if I may put it that way—has just swept over the city, a movement linked to the name of Savonarola. We find an atmosphere weary from [these struggles]—the drama of Savonarola has played out, and many aftereffects of this drama are still present. It is particularly interesting to juxtapose these two figures: Savonarola and Raphael. Both present the impulses of Christianity [in their own way] to their contemporaries; they present them in such a way that we perceive everywhere the fire of inner enthusiasm, but [in Savonarola’s case] also with an immense fanaticism that leads to the impossibility of living out these impulses in relation to his contemporaries. When we consider Savonarola, it is as if a person were standing before us who, in every phase of his soul—in the very best that his soul can perceive and feel—was gripped by the grandeur and power of Christianity; a person who now radiates what has acted upon his soul in a completely elemental and immediate way, and who then stands up for what had grown so great within his own soul. And now to Raphael: He stands in a very striking contrast to a figure such as Savonarola. When we look at Raphael’s paintings, we see Christian impulses confronting us with what one might call superhuman grandeur. We perceive these Christian impulses being lived out with deep soulfulness, right down to the finest details. We truly see how Christianity shines forth in these paintings. But at the same time, we feel and sense that a soul that had merely been immediately gripped by the Christianity present in the surrounding world could not have attained that peace, that naturalness, that serenity to which Raphael’s soul had indeed arrived.

[ 9 ] While with Savonarola one has the impression throughout that his soul only came to embrace the grandeur of Christianity during his lifetime, with Raphael, one has the feeling that his soul was born that way, as if it entered the world with Christian impulses already alive within it from birth—impulses that, by permeating the whole person from early childhood onward, take hold of the whole person and, through this development, can reach heights that these ideas and forms would never attain in a human being if they appeared only in their elementary, immediate form. And if we are not pedantic, if we have a certain sensitivity to the real life of a human soul, we can no longer doubt that a soul such as Raphael’s—as a soul, as a spiritual being—brings with it from the very beginning, from supersensible worlds, everything that could never be lived out in such a way if it first had to flow through the entire process of personal upbringing and development. Such things, of course, cannot be proven in a single evening; the supersensible truths cannot—as I explained the day before yesterday—be proven [in the same way] as the external truths of natural science; yet they can still be proven, [for] they reveal themselves through their effects. One must [only] first find the way to recognize, through these effects, what lies behind them as their cause. Then we follow Raphael on to Rome, where he enters an atmosphere that bears a remarkable relationship to Christianity. Pope Julius II becomes his patron. On his commission, Raphael paints the greatest works of art, which many people consider to be among the greatest in the history of human painting; they capture the human soul and spirit at their very depths. And he paints them in such a way that the entire spirit of Christianity lives within them—and lives there, moreover, in a natural, self-evident way. He paints—it could not be otherwise—to the pope’s satisfaction. But what kind of pope was this Julius? He was a pope whom, by today’s somewhat different standards, one might not even properly describe as a Christian. Machiavelli, who was not particularly imbued with morality, said he was a diabolical character, a character concerned above all with power and external status—concerned with fame, perhaps not personally for himself, but for the greatness and power of the Church. He was a figure who was not at all choosy in his methods, who was not at all Christian when it came to acquiring power, fame, and grandeur. This is Raphael’s patron. And indeed, when we consider the Rome of that time in Raphael’s circle, it stands in a very striking contrast to him. But it is precisely from this contrast that something as magnificent as what still stands before our eyes today in the two paintings *The School of Athens* and *The Disputation* arises—even though these paintings have often been overpainted. In them, we are presented with a magnificent artistic depiction of the course of human development—a depiction steeped in the spirit of Christian inspiration.

[ 10 ] When we look at this one painting, the so-called “School of Athens”—I do not believe this title is justified, but it is the easiest way to refer to it—when one allows this painting to sink in, one sees, perhaps without it having been fully conscious in Raphael’s mind, that it depicts what the human soul can perceive when it directs its gaze toward external, sensory reality and makes use of the intellect, which is bound to the human brain and the human personality. This is presented to us in every detail in a marvelous way. When we turn our gaze to the group on the right in the painting, we see how all manner of things are astronomically determined and calculated, and then we sense: Here, it is not merely the ordinary that is being calculated, but great events of world history are being deduced from the movement of the stars—science is being unfolded in a cosmic sense. And when we then turn our gaze to the left, we see in the expressions [of the figures] who connect the right with the left how what is read on the right from the constellations is written down on the left; and if we could truly see the books before our eyes, we would see how, on the left, the mysteries of the world are written down, which [on the right] are determined through sensory observation. We see this, but Raphael need not have been aware of it; such was the tradition of that time, and deeply ingrained within it was what constitutes the essence of [emerging Christianity in contrast to Greek culture]. And whether we take the viewpoint of those who see Plato and Aristotle in the central figures, or whether we are dealing with an evangelist on the left-hand side—in both cases, the contrast now presented is entirely understandable.

[ 11 ] Then we turn our gaze to the other side of the “Camera della Segnatura” and find there, spread across the entire painting, that magic which illustrates to us how development has progressed from the human spirit’s contemplation of the sensory world to a deepening into the supersensory, the invisible. This immersion of the human soul in the supersensible reigns and weaves its way through the image of the so-called “Disputa.” The symbolic arrangement of the heavenly bodies is meant to show, in conjunction with the lower scenes, that something significant has occurred in the course of human development: namely, that the human being has been internalized through the impact of the Christian impulse on humanity’s spiritual development, which on the one hand signifies a deepening of the human soul, and on the other hand, through this inner deepening, leads upward to the knowledge and intuition of the supersensible worlds. These can only be attained if the human soul educates itself and thereby acquires those powers through which it can sense or perceive the worlds that lie beyond the [sensory] worlds.

[ 12 ] It is not my intention to explain such images in a pedantic way, for example through theories, but one must use words that are not merely comments on images, but rather are meant to convey what one naturally feels. Otherwise, it could be just as unappealing [as] the captions found in travel guides, and [one would] not be interested at all in what the individual figures signify; [rather] what is interesting [is] the artistry, the feeling that stirs the soul—and in this way we are not immediately placed, through abstract reflection, on the horizon of humanity’s spiritual development—not through abstract reason, but through feeling. We feel the impulse that lives and weaves its way through the history of human development. And yet again: If we now look beyond these paintings and into Raphael’s soul, then we must say that she lived in the midst of an environment that, on the outside, revealed nothing of the intimacy and spiritual depth found in these paintings, and [nevertheless] Raphael managed to conjure into these paintings the innermost impulses and the innermost driving forces of Christianity throughout the course of world history.

[ 13 ] The same is true of much else that we see, and when one then rises even to that which, despite everything, can still make the deepest impression on the viewer of Raphael today—rises to that in which so much of Raphael’s creative work has converged: the “Sistine Madonna”— when one allows this remarkable painting in Dresden to take effect upon oneself, one arrives at a very special insight into this Raphael soul that is so self-evident, and one arrives at the active spiritual impulse of Christ. If, on the other hand, one stands before this “Sistine Madonna” guided purely by feeling, one has the impression that something lifts one above the ordinary human condition. This is the first impression, but one that grows ever stronger and more powerful; it lifts one somewhat above ordinary human feeling. In one’s soul, one once again becomes a participant in another world, and when one then asks oneself: Why is this so? — perhaps it is the insights of spiritual science that are best suited to enlighten one. These insights of spiritual science—how can they arise?

[ 14 ] Let us turn our gaze, from the perspective of spiritual science, to the entire development of humanity. In doing so, we stand on the ground of a serious, comprehensive theory of evolution—but one that differs greatly from the materialistic theory that so many today regard as an unquestionable gospel. This theory does indeed trace phenomena back to a certain origin—and tracing them back to these origins is justified from the standpoint of sensory perception. One arrives at material origins that exhibit very simple forms and that, through slow refinement and development, have led to the present state of affairs. This theory of evolution takes particular pride in this today: understanding human beings as beings who gradually rose from other, more primitive forms of life to their present stature, as they appear to us today as physical human beings. Some materialists see this as the very essence of humanity. Spiritual science also leads us back into the past, but when we turn our spiritual gaze backward using the methods described the day before yesterday, we do not arrive at other, material life forms from which humanity is supposed to have developed, but we ultimately arrive at a spiritual beginning of evolution. One arrives at origins that are purely spiritual. And one sees, on the one hand, the material itself emerging from the spirit, and on the other hand, the spiritual developing into later spiritual forms in accordance with its original, spiritual purpose.

[ 15 ] If one looks at the human being itself—at the whole human being, at the spiritual-soul aspect within the human being—and traces back its development, one arrives at a very distant past in which the human being already appears; it already exists before the other beings that surround it today in the three kingdoms of nature have even come into being. [These prove to be a kind of offshoot, so to speak, flowing off the main line of development: Human beings are the original ones; they are there first, but as spiritual beings, and as they continue to develop, they push the other kingdoms of nature away, as it were, from their undercurrent.] One can choose an image to illustrate this development. Let us suppose we have a liquid in a glass, mixed with something that can remain pure. The finer part of the liquid remains on top; the coarser part settles to the bottom; so we have the fine substance above and the solid below.

[ 16 ] Thus, in spiritual science, we return to the origin in which the human being exists as a spiritual-soul being; in his spiritual life, he develops into purer forms, which lie precisely in his later mission and which, [compared to] the original state, represent a more refined configuration of his soul being. In order for this abstract soul to emerge in its pure form, human beings must separate themselves from the other kingdoms of nature: these exist, as it were, to provide the foundation for human beings’ higher development. If we allow this thought to take effect on us not in its intellectual form but as a feeling—if we transform it into an emotional experience—then, when we direct our gaze toward all that surrounds us in the physical realm of nature, we have the present reality before us; but when we turn our gaze to what emerges from the human soul, we perceive something we cannot understand—if we merely let our gaze wander over the outer, earthly nature and do not direct it upward toward something supernatural. We feel that present-day humanity could only have come into being within its earthly mission because it is the result of something that comes to us from other spheres—a higher form of humanity that has, as it were, descended to fill the earth with the present realms of nature. We sense that human nature reveals to us its origin in spiritual heights. We feel how humanity is elevated when we, in accordance with our inner feelings, rise to that of which spiritual science can speak.

[ 17 ] If you set aside all theory and now awaken within yourself the feeling that can arise when we sense human beings in their supersensible approach to their sensory mission, then we have—one must compare these feelings —the same sensation as when we visualize Raphael’s “Sistine Madonna,” in which the image of Isis with Horus also comes to mind. And anyone who can truly immerse themselves in the supermundane origin of humanity may have experienced such sensations repeatedly, [when they see the “Sistine Madonna” floating down from the etheric spheres with the infant Jesus—the exalted humanity—and can perceive the clouds as the foundation], the etheric foundation from which arises that which is the true, spiritual, supermaterial origin of humanity. It must be said, however, that such contemplations need not have been [consciously] present in Raphael’s soul; but we have repeatedly emphasized that this human soul had a dual nature, that something was taking place in the higher regions of consciousness of which the [lower] human soul need not be aware of, but which was no less real; and the impulses—the impulses of sensation and feeling—that worked as just described are the only way to understand how precisely this painting could have emerged from Raphael’s soul.

[ 18 ] I have attempted to make all these observations because I would like to explain what strikes me as consistent with spiritual science in Raphael’s work: In his soul—isolated from its surroundings—we find something that is predetermined from the outset, something destined to realize spiritual impulses in their Christian nuances through painting. In the “Sistine Madonna,” Raphael rises, in a certain sense, to a transcendent Christian perspective—one that goes beyond the historical and the traditional Christian—by sensing and artistically depicting the spiritual-cosmic origin of the human being. Viewed in this light, Raphael’s soul simply cannot be equated with any other soul, such as that of Savonarola.

[ 19 ] With Savonarola, we can, in a sense, demonstrate at every stage of his development how he connects with Christian ideas, how everything comes into being and bursts forth; with Raphael, it seems self-evident that the Christian worldview was already given to him at birth. We sense how Christian impulses are indeed connected to Raphael, but we do not sense something else: we do not sense that which the soul of Raphael particularly needed from its surroundings, and that was Greek culture. This Greek culture inserts itself in a very peculiar way into the spiritual development of humanity. I have often pointed out that we, as spiritual scientists, must view human development in such a way that, as we go further and further back into ancient times, we find human souls with states of consciousness different from those of the present; everything is [in] development—the human soul especially!—and once spiritual science is recognized for its true value, people will realize how one-sided it is to view evolution from a purely materialistic perspective, going back to human forms in which the soul would develop its consciousness in a more animal-like state. If one traces human development from a spiritual-scientific perspective, one finds an entirely different stage of development, and even today one can find confirmation in ancient spiritual works, myths, and legends of what spiritual research has to say about earlier states of the human soul.

[ 20 ] We are coming to understand that in primeval times, human souls were endowed with a primal form of clairvoyance—a dreamlike clairvoyance. What we today call our clear sensory perception, our sharply defined intellectual concepts, and our self-awareness did not exist in the human soul in those primeval times. For this to come about, the original clairvoyance had to fade away, to be subdued. This state cannot be compared to ordinary dreaming as we know it today, but rather to a dreamlike existence organized in images entirely in the manner of dream images—images that are, however, reflections of spiritual realities. In primeval times, the human soul was endowed with such a dreamlike clairvoyance. This clairvoyance diminished, and we now stand at a stage in our development where, for the formation of self-consciousness and of sharply defined intellectual concepts, the old clairvoyance had to fade away.

[ 21 ] If something is to develop to perfection, something else must take a back seat. This law of balance governs all of nature, so that as we ascend toward full self-awareness—in a distant future, humanity will once again associate this with a certain form of clairvoyance—we have, as it were, a descending line of human development from the original clairvoyance and now a kind of ascent through [the development of] self-awareness, intellectual concepts, and external scientific perspective toward clairvoyance. And what do we sense in the middle? We sense Greek civilization—this Greek civilization that is so remarkable precisely because, on the one hand, it marks the conclusion of the ancient, dreamlike clairvoyant consciousness and, on the other hand, the beginning of external, object-oriented consciousness. Hence we see this Hellenism with its very special characteristics, which consist in the fact that the Greek experienced the spiritual much more directly—but not in the way that prehistoric man experienced it, who saw it, so to speak, externally—but rather in such a way that the Greek felt his own personality interwoven with all external existence. He still felt himself to be within the cosmos, within the external world, and felt the laws that weave through and animate the external world within his own being.

[ 22 ] It may seem hypothetical, but anyone who delves into the spiritual sciences will find that what I am saying is true: When the Greeks created their sculptures—which have, after all, come down to us in an incomplete form—they did not need models in the sense that we understand them. When he depicted anything—especially the human form—he did not depict it by imitating an external model, but rather from his inner consciousness. He knew what forces were at work in space, and his awareness of these forces developed within him in such a way that he possessed an awareness of the inner forces through the form of space. And so he imprinted what he himself perceived inwardly onto the external material as form, from within. Just as prehistoric humans sensed images of space rising within them and were so connected in their souls to the entire cosmos that these images reflected reality, so too were the Greeks connected to the laws of the universe, which they perceived as permeating their very bodies. They created what they experienced, and this, in turn, they expressed in a sculptural work. When he wanted to depict Zeus, he knew how Zeus’s physiognomy was connected to those experiences that find expression in external forms. He created in the external material what he experienced inwardly. This is how we can view Greek culture; it is still a worldview [in which] a feeling is bound to an immediate consciousness of humanity.

[ 23 ] One can hardly imagine a greater contrast than that between the true Greek—as he relates to nature and to existence as a whole—and a figure who, strictly speaking, is separated by only three or four hundred years from the impact of the Christ impulse on humanity—a figure, let us say, such as Augustine. Read any work by this Christian Church Father, who was also a great philosopher, and try to compare what Augustine offers through his innermost experience of the soul—through his inner sensing of the essence of the human soul—with everything that has been produced in Greece, whether philosophical or poetic. In the Greek spirit, we sense how it cannot separate itself from the external world, how it is one with the external world by perceiving the flow of the external world streaming into itself and experiencing itself as belonging to the external world. In Augustine, we see the gaze directed inward toward the inner, spiritual world. As a result, this inner creation takes on a form that would have been unthinkable for any creation of ancient Greece. Ancient Greece could not internalize itself in this way because its greatness was still intertwined with an awareness of the external world. It was a tremendous impact on the entire spiritual development of humanity, and one need not stand on the ground of positive Christianity to see this powerful impact. One could even conceive of the paradoxical idea that even someone who had never heard of Christ, upon considering Greek culture and Augustine in their distinctiveness, would have to say to himself: Something has happened in the ongoing development that has transformed the external into the internal; and this internalization is the fundamental impulse of Christianity, which grows out of the external and into the internal.

[ 24 ] If we look at the matter this way and then turn our attention back to Raphael, we can say: What appears there as the fundamental spirit of Christianity lives in Raphael’s soul as that soul steps into existence through birth. We see this reflected in his development, if only you approach his work with an open mind and do not try to impose a purely materialistic-historical interpretation on Raphael’s soul. If one views it impartially, it appears as though, through birth, he had already brought with him the Christian impulses that we must describe as his very own. But Raphael was born at that turning point in the entire spiritual development of humanity, placed in that era in which what had been memory was to be reborn, in a certain external sense, anew. And here a great law of development reveals itself to us, one that can be understood only with the help of spiritual science. Usually, people imagine development as though cause and effect simply followed one another. But that is not how things proceed, for closer examination shows us that such a linear development is a fantasy. True development proceeds in such a way that a certain current flows from one point to another, and when it reaches a certain point, something old is taken up anew. The later connects with the earlier—which has not passed through a current of development but has been preserved in its original form. We see a returning to and an assimilation of what has remained at an original stage, which then connects with something that came later.

[ 25 ] This is what we see in Raphael: what, up until his time, seemed to be marked by a character of mere inwardness has once again become an outward manifestation. One need only consider how St. Francis of Assisi is depicted in Giotto’s works. There we see how, even in painting, everything remains internal; it does not translate into form and color. We must always return to the inner event, and when we turn to the inner event in Giotto’s work, the external representation is of lesser interest. With Raphael, this is not the case. Here we never feel the need to look away from what he directly reveals to us—from what is there, what stands before us in color and form—but with Raphael, everything inner has flowed into the outer. For this to happen, Raphael’s soul—even though he was born with the internalized impulse of Christianity—had to assimilate Hellenism. In Raphael, we now see how he draws upon this earlier stage of development, which was, in essence, new to him. It is remarkable how, on the one hand, this Hellenism lay dormant in the bosom of the earth until Raphael’s time, so that Raphael’s contemporaries were the first to see again what was then coming to the surface [through the excavations], and how, on the other hand, Greek culture reawakened in Raphael—only now transformed inwardly—what Greek culture had created in the outward form of sculpture. What the Greeks were able to achieve in the form of sculpture was not immediately suitable for Raphael; what fell to him, however, was to bring inner life to outward expression. To this end, painting—which, unlike sculpture, can bring the inner to the outer—had to take on Greek forms once again. It did so particularly in Raphael. I am well aware that one could list many other names, but nowhere else do we encounter this phenomenon as characteristically as in Raphael. Thus, in Raphael, we see how he appropriates Greek culture in the service of the Christian impulse. If we consider his soul from this broader perspective, it appears to us as if it had brought all Christian impulses with it at birth, but not the Greek ones—these come into play from the surrounding environment. From painting to painting, one can trace how Raphael, translated into the language of painting, increasingly appropriates Greek art.

[ 26 ] Now, anyone who delves deeper into spiritual science—let this be a mere hypothesis for my sake—will see how such a hypothesis gradually offers certainty, though not in a comfortable way. When we look at Raphael’s soul from this perspective, we see how it already carries Christian impulses within it at birth. It therefore appears as though Raphael’s soul had already made this arrangement before birth. While in Savonarola we can see the immediate [influence of the environment] impact of Christian impulses, in Raphael’s case it seems to us that he already possesses these Christian impulses. Just as Savonarola, in his existence as Savonarola, appropriated the Christian impulses directly through the influence of his surroundings, so Raphael’s soul developed them in an earlier earthly existence in such a way that it could not simultaneously appropriate the Greek impulses in that earlier existence. It thus comes from a life in which it had already assimilated the Christian impulses, so that—after the soul had passed through a life between death and rebirth—these had become second nature to it, as we then see reflected in Raphael’s paintings. And what Greek culture achieved, this soul—which may have been “distant from the Greeks” in its previous earthly life—only assimilated in this later life as Raphael. Here we see, precisely in a soul like Raphael’s, how that which one can intuitively attribute to an earlier earthly life converges with that which, in later earthly lives, merges with what was already brought with one at birth. Whenever I have occupied myself with this—just as Herman Grimm repeatedly made a fresh attempt [to write about Raphael’s life]—the spiritual-scientific gaze was truly drawn to this fact of its own accord. It is reasonable to assume that Herman Grimm would not have been satisfied with his final account either, even if he had completed it, for you see: Certain aspects of humanity’s spiritual life only begin to be illuminated when one takes into account the reality of repeated earthly lives. Such a fusion of Christian and Greek influences, as was evident in Raphael, can only be understood if one is able to draw upon the explanation offered by repeated earthly lives. It may still seem foreign to our contemporaries today, but I have often used the comparison [with] what Francesco Redi [said]. He said it was wrong to believe that animals could arise from river mud; living things could only come from living things. — And in the same way, the spiritual-soul can only come from the spiritual-soul. ]

[ 27 ] [Today, one is condemned in a different way if one attempts to point out, even in concrete terms, that a human life cannot be explained solely on the basis of its immediate surroundings. If one examines these matters more closely, it becomes clear that when something in a human soul shines forth as an isolated phenomenon and cannot be explained by its surroundings, this points back to a previous earthly existence, to something that this soul acquired in a previous earthly existence and which, once the soul has passed through death and a new birth, takes on the form of something self-evident in its new earthly existence—as something connected to the soul’s essence, as something belonging to it. Thus, the Christian impulses are so naturally connected to Raphael’s essence—so closely connected that Raphael cannot be conceived of without them.]

[ 28 ] [If one accepts the spiritual scientific insight that the human soul passes through repeated earthly lives, then it becomes understandable that what a person has acquired in a previous earthly life becomes a source of strength in a later one. One experiences and observes how these qualities enter the soul, how they pass through those stages that a human being undergoes between death and rebirth; there they become one with the soul. And when the human being then enters a new existence, he shapes his entire inner bodily form with these forces and constructs his body in such a way that what he creates in his next earthly life seems to flow naturally from his very being.] It seems to me that a time will certainly come in the development of humanity when people will realize—precisely through an unbiased observation of reality—that it is precisely the great phenomena that can only be understood through the law of repeated earthly lives. Then, of course, it will also become clear that it is not only necessary to look at the greatest phenomena, but that every single human life can be understood when one adopts the perspective of repeated earthly lives.

[ 29 ] But when one directs one’s human gaze toward these great phenomena, which are so intimately connected with human development and with all that constitutes the innermost impulses of the evolving human spirit, then something emerges from this perspective that strengthens the human soul—something that, as has often been explained here, gives the human soul inner stability, inner confidence, and inner strength for work. It leads the human soul, in the course of its individual earthly existence, not only to know but also to sense the seed of a subsequent earthly existence, just as we feel how the plant has gathered its forces and concentrated them in the seed, and thereby become aware that a new plant will spring from this seed in the summer. The soul can possess this awareness; it can sense this inner integration as the assurance, the guarantee of a future earthly life. What already lies dormant in the seed within this earthly life is transformed, through the mere knowledge of immortality, into a feeling of the immortal human seed—into a feeling of that which builds up the future life.

[ 30 ] Once again, I found it very strange that it was precisely Herman Grimm’s perspective on the very matters that had just been discussed that compelled me to immediately read a specific passage at the beginning of his book on Raphael. Anyone who views Raphael from the standpoint of spiritual science will naturally come to regard repeated earthly lives as necessary if they wish to understand Raphael in a truly concrete way. And from the knowledge of repeated earthly lives, we draw the strength that gives us the insight to see what lies ahead in the future. Truly, it is surprising when one perceives this as an effect of spiritual science: when someone approaches a figure like Raphael and never quite comes to terms with him, yet—in the face of Raphael’s greatness—experiences a feeling—not yet of the reality of future earthly lives, but in the face of this fulfilled human life—a kind of longing for a future earthly life. The certainty of repeated earthly lives can only dawn on one through spiritual science, but when contemplating Raphael’s life, Herman Grimm was filled with a sense of security in the face of the eternal, which he expresses with the remarkable phrase: “/p”

I can see developments in humanity unfolding before my eyes—developments I will be unable to take part in, but which seem so radiantly beautiful to me that, for their sake alone, it would be worth the effort to begin human existence all over again.

[ 31 ] It is truly remarkable that we can translate the desire that arose in Herman Grimm as he reflected on Raphael’s life into a concrete reality.

[ 32 ] And so one can summarize the subject of today’s reflection in a single overview of sensations: It seems natural that, when faced with a personality such as Raphael’s—where one feels so certain that a single earthly life is insufficient to understand him—the person who allows this personality to take full effect upon them will find that what spiritual science describes as reality—the vision of repeated earthly lives—becomes their deepest desire. And so may an unbiased spiritual scientific contemplation of such great figures of humanity as Raphael lead people, through the contemplation of these great figures, to increasingly develop habits of thought that, while still very much at odds with current opinions, will most certainly take root in people’s spiritual lives. Just as surely as the insight has taken root—that which is alive can only come from that which is alive—so surely will the insight take root: that which is spiritual-psychic can only come from that which is spiritual-psychic. —And it is precisely the contemplation of human greatness that can instill in our souls what leads to such [new] habits of thought. Seeking to understand human greatness—this also gives rise within us to the conviction, indeed the certainty, that the truths of which we become convinced through an ever-deepening immersion into things and into the spirit of things—even if they initially encounter resistance upon resistance—will ultimately find their way into human hearts. No matter how narrow the cracks through which the truth, which seeks to reach human hearts, must squeeze its way: the truth will find its way even through the narrowest of cracks. Anyone who today can see spiritual science only as a seed—for that is all it is at present—can be inspired by this principle, which has been so deeply confirmed by humanity’s spiritual development. But by looking upon this seed, they can also develop confidence in their soul, so that this seed will surely sprout, blossom, and bear fruit for the human soul. Answer to a Question

No question about it: I request that this lecture be published in print.

[ 33 ] Rudolf Steiner: Given the volume of lectures that have already been published, I would prefer that no further material be published. What has been published has not yet penetrated [people’s consciousness] as deeply as it could have.

Question: What do you make of [stagnation in development]? Is there [any] progress at all [that] causes the direction to change?

[ 34 ] Rudolf Steiner: Anyone who has really listened will not be able to ask such a question easily. After all, it is like this: [First comes the] change, then [a] pause; we see this with every house [that is first built and then, as a result, stands for years].

Question: Does a person who can consciously leave their body have the ability to remain in other realms and not return to their body? And is the body asleep or dead in that case?

[ 35 ] Rudolf Steiner: Of course he is dead. It is not a matter of the actual impossibility of returning, but of the moral impossibility. Morally, one is obligated not to thwart one’s karma. The laws of nature and the moral order are growing ever closer together. The laws of nature are increasingly becoming moral necessities, and then such questions will no longer be asked. [These are just as nonsensical as the question:] Could someone who has just made a watch take a hammer and smash the watch right back to pieces? Of course he could, but it would not be reasonable.

Question: Does color blindness interfere with occult self-development?

[ 36 ] Rudolf Steiner: Read my essay “How to Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds”—though it is [currently] out of print: Gaining insight [into the spiritual world] does not depend on our sense organs; after all, we become free of them. It is in no way a hindrance if any of the sense organs is underdeveloped; not even blindness [is an obstacle]. It is a mistake to [confuse] what manifests itself in spiritual science with ordinary clairvoyance. Ordinary clairvoyance is not clairvoyance that truly takes place in the supersensible worlds. Ordinary clairvoyance is based on a certain state of the sense organs or, at the very least, comes about with their active participation. Two clairvoyants, one of whom is blind and the other not, have the same experience when they encounter the same thing. [When one speaks of such an experience as] a blue or red experience, [one means:] the same thing is experienced as one experiences [in the sensory realm] with the color blue [or red]. That is why it is described this way, but it is not the same [as the external experience of color]. Because most people have a normal development [of the senses], one can proceed from this standpoint; but it may become necessary to choose different starting points for those born blind; yet one arrives at the same [spiritual experience].

Question: Can one gain an understanding of the humanities by reading Tolstoy's books?

[ 37 ] Rudolf Steiner: Reading Tolstoy does not lead one to the idea that there is such a thing as spiritual science.

Question: Is it permissible to anesthetize a dying person with opium, [or] if not, [then] as is done during surgeries?

[ 38 ] Rudolf Steiner: In the ideal case, one should do what appears to be humanly possible, based on the relevant, [currently accepted] findings. One should not resist [applying] what can bring relief to a person; [otherwise] this would lead to impossibilities.

Question: Can wishes be granted through devout prayer?

[ 39 ] Rudolf Steiner: Prayer should actually be a bowing of the soul toward the divine spirituality that permeates and weaves through the world, so that prayer actually loses its meaning when it is selfish. And only that prayer is justified which concludes with the words of the Original Prayer: “Not my will, but Yours be done.” This concluding phrase imparts the proper mood to the prayer. Then it is a true prayer if it is not selfish; otherwise, practical contradictions immediately arise. For what should the grantor of wishes do if one farmer wants his crops to sprout and asks for rain, while another in the same region asks for dry weather, or if, of two armies—each of which certainly desires victory—one asks for victory, and the other [as well]? So one should not be selfish in prayer. Therefore, the question of whether wishes are granted or not [through prayer] has no real significance, for true prayer cannot expect that wishes will be granted. I know that this offends many people, but one should simply consider the nature of the matter, and one will find that this is indeed the case.

Question: What about vegetarianism [in light of the Bible? After all, there are] Christ’s words: “My oxen have been slaughtered,” or the Passover lamb, or even the banquets. And what about alcohol at the wedding in Cana or at the Last Supper, [when] the bread is dipped in wine?

[ 40 ] Rudolf Steiner: It would take us too far afield to explain the relevant Gospel passages [now]. However, it would become clear that quite a few things we read in the Gospels today are simply translation errors. That said, it must be noted that the development of spiritual insights can be facilitated by a vegetarian lifestyle. But this is nothing more than a statement of fact: that the vegetarian can make his path easier, just as one makes many other things easier by abstaining from meat. But it is not the task of spiritual science to engage in one-sided propaganda for vegetarianism. Spiritual science does not subscribe to one-sided propaganda. For spiritual science, precise thinking is necessary—not only for comprehension and understanding, but also for [better] penetration into the finer fabrics of thought. Some people feel compelled to raise this or that objection, but these objections stem merely from thinking that has come to a halt halfway. These things are not based on a logical consequence of scientific thinking, but on habits of thought and a lack of logic. Spiritual science is firmly grounded in the principle that one believes only what one knows: this is the view of every science. But in order to penetrate [spiritual science] to the point where one can truly participate in the work, it is necessary to relieve the mind of its burdens and refine it so that it is capable of following paths it could not otherwise follow—and the vegetarian way of life contributes to this.

[ 41 ] One must also consider the relationship to the other kingdoms of nature. Today, humanity cannot even conceive of making vegetarianism a universal diet, for it is entirely a personal choice whether a person wishes to do so or not. One can thoroughly ruin oneself if one attempts to live a vegetarian lifestyle in an abstract manner. This applies not only to today but to all periods of time. However, it is already possible today to assert things that made no sense 2,000 years ago; what is true today need not be true for all time. This applies only to materialistic truths. When one speaks of people today and of people in the time of Christ, one is not speaking of the same people; one is merely compelled to use the same word. [Over time] many things do change. The Paschal Lamb does not necessarily have to mean a slaughtered lamb. Even if what is written on the note is correct, it was, after all, a different time. One certainly cannot conclude from this that [vegetarianism] does not apply today, when the finer structures of human nature have become something entirely different from what they were back then, and that becoming accustomed to vegetarianism is not an aid to spiritual science. Now, one must not believe that one can “eat one’s way up” into the higher worlds, [for it] makes no difference whether one eats something or refrains from eating. [Vegetarianism is] merely a means of relief, not a means of convenience.