The Rudolf Steiner Archive

8. The Myth of Heracles

[Ladies and gentlemen!]

[ 1 ] I have taken the liberty of describing the development of Greek intellectual life in the centuries before Plato—as it were, as a prelude to Greek mysticism proper, that is, to the period in which the mystery cults gave way to what is commonly called mysticism.

[ 2 ] I would like to note for now that Plato, who lived from the fifth to the fourth century B.C., appears to be a great convergence of everything that Greek intellectual life had produced before him. He died at the age of eighty in 347 B.C. This life was packed with a continuous development that must appear particularly uplifting [and] grand to anyone who knows how to read the Platonic writings correctly.

[ 3 ] Plato’s account of developments in Greece took place at a time when life in Greece had taken on the most peculiar character. We must be clear that when Plato appeared, a kind of schism also occurred, so that we must view only the [one] branch of Platonic mysticism that developed after him and which can be called the “quest for truth.” [The other branch, which broke away from the unified system of mysteries, became art], above all in the form that confronts us in Greek tragedy—in the tragedies of Aeschylus and in the less significant tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides.

[ 4 ] Plato’s [life] fell within this period. The mystery cults degenerated into mere tragedy. The mystery cults united in an indivisible unity that which art and Greek mysticism had sought along separate paths. Such a division between truth and beauty, between mysticism and art, did not yet exist at the time of the ancient Greek mystery tradition, and to a certain extent we will also see that a large part of the mysteries found refuge in art. The most ephemeral aspect is the ideal.

[ 5 ] One cannot truly understand the concept of art unless one views it as something that arose as a distillation of the Greek mystery tradition. But we can only see this once we have fully grasped the meaning as understood by the ancient Greeks of the pre-Platonic era, who understood the truly profound meaning of the word “mystery.” The Greek mystery tradition of the pre-Platonic era encompassed everything that can be expressed in terms of inner aspirations. And what meets us on the surface—including Heraclitean philosophy—are merely diluted products of those who had penetrated the depths of the mystery tradition and who cast these into the minds of others—because they themselves could not penetrate them—so that others might at least sense them, even if they could not see them.

[ 6 ] What the Greeks were seeking is something that Plato himself gradually came to share. It is what is presented to us in the writings commonly referred to as those from the first eight years of Plato’s literary career.

[ 7 ] If one examines these writings from his early period, one will see that they are purely philosophical, ethical, and moral works. And that is the character of so-called “Socratic philosophy.” Socrates even takes pride in the fact that he was never initiated into the mysteries. After Socrates’ death, an extremely important development begins for Plato, which then reaches its climax in Plato’s most significant work, the Timaeus.

[ 8 ] That which existed [during the heyday of spiritual life in Greece, before Christianity had a transformative effect on Greek spiritual life] and which Plato underwent—this entire process of development was referred to in Greek spiritual life as “initiation.” It is what those who sought to be initiated into the mysteries aspired to. For the Greeks, receiving initiation and becoming an initiate were one and the same thing.

[ 9 ] And now, if I am to present Platonic mysticism to you in the form in which it will appear to us—as a process of successive initiations—I must first make a few preliminary remarks. I must preface this by saying that the Greeks’ conception of the nature of initiation was expressed in a curious myth that cannot be understood unless it is regarded as a symbolic representation of initiation. It parallels the myth of Dionysus—a counterpart to it—yet it is entirely different.

[ 10 ] We know that Dionysus is the son of a mortal woman, Semele. Semele perished. She had demanded that Zeus appear to her in all his heavenly splendor and glory. When he granted her this request, he was compelled to appear as such, and she was struck and burned by his lightning bolt. Dionysus had to be born a second time, [after Zeus had saved him by nurturing the still-unformed child within his own thigh until it reached maturity,] so that Dionysus, who was born as a human, was then burned, and subsequently appears as one born of a god.

[ 11 ] This myth of Dionysus presents the world process—the unfolding of the world—as the process of the incarnated God, as the process that God undergoes, that which is undergone by the one who has become God. These myths were mysteries that referred to the process of the world, without taking into account the role that human beings play within the world.

[ 12 ] This myth of Dionysus is accompanied by another myth, like a counterpart. This is the myth of Heracles. It presents itself to us as a humanized version of the Dionysus myth. Heracles, too, was the son of a mortal: he was indeed born to Alcmene. It turns out, however, that this birth was delayed by Hera’s jealousy, so that he was born too late. Eurystheus had been born first, and Heracles ceded the birthright to him. Because he was born second, Heracles was compelled to perform his famous Twelve Labors in the service of Eurystheus. So here we see the myth of Dionysus reappearing before us in a humanized form. Both, then, were fire. Heracles then carries out his human labors, and only after completing them is he taken up to Olympus. Then he is consumed by fire.

[ 13 ] Thus, Heracles appears to us as a humanized Dionysus. He appears to us as one who has taken all suffering upon himself, in contrast to Dionysus, who was spared these sufferings. These twelve labors are nothing other than human trials that a person must overcome in order to gradually ascend to the highest level he can attain. This entire myth can only be understood as a symbolic representation of the initiation process, and the twelve labors represent twelve successive states of the human soul. Through these, a person gradually attains a higher consciousness—the gateway to, and the attainment of, true divine consciousness.

[ 14 ] The very nature of Heracles’ twelve labors proves to us that they are nothing other than trials that a person must undergo during the course of the initiation process. It might seem to us that these labors have been presented in literature as the overcoming of twelve monsters. ‘But if one compares them, one will find that they are not tests of strength by a powerful man, but rather meaningful symbolic acts.

[ 15 ] These are monsters that were born of the siblings Phorkis and Keto, from whom the actual earthly realm then emerged. In connection with Pontus, they are the deities who bring forth the fluid—standing between fire and the earthly realm. The offspring of Phorkis and Keto are the monsters that Heracles must overcome. These beings must be overcome; they must be cast off. Let us take a look at these monsters against whom Heracles fights:

[ 16 ] [First:] The “Nemean Lion”: It is presented to us as a descendant of the siblings Phorkis and Keto. Pointing out this family connection would serve no purpose, but the genealogical structure is entirely accurate. The important thing here is that the lion has an impenetrable hide. Heracles can only strangle it. He does so and brings it to his master. His master, however, becomes afraid of it, so Heracles must remain outside the city on his master’s orders. The impenetrable force of nature is fully represented by the impenetrable hide. One cannot penetrate the veil, nor pierce it with arrows; one can only let it remain, one can only paralyze its mighty willpower. Yet one must still allow it to exist as an entity alongside oneself. It cannot be completely killed.

[ 17 ] In this struggle, we can only emerge as partial victors. We can only achieve the beginning, only a part of it. That is what is important in this work. Throughout the entire struggle, the forces of nature appear to us as speechless powers whose voice we cannot discern at the lower stages of development. Nature stands before us as a silent goddess. We must let her be; we can only partially conquer her. This is symbolized for us in this first work.

[ 18 ] [Second:] The second labor that Heracles undertakes is the battle against the “Lernaean Hydra.” It has nine heads, the middle one of which is immortal. These heads have the ability to regenerate again and again whenever they are cut off. The battle is therefore a very difficult one. Heracles can overcome this regeneration only through fire. Here, something significant is revealed to us: he wields fire.

[ 19 ] We will see, however, that there is something special about this second labor. It appears to us as a link between the temporal and the eternal. The middle, immortal head is nevertheless an obstacle to true entry into the eternal. This can only be overcome through spirituality. However, Heracles is not yet at the level where he can accomplish this labor. We must realize that it is like playing with fire—something done by someone who does not quite know how to handle it. This second labor therefore seems to be something that cannot really be of significance to Heracles. It is strange that the connecting link between the temporal and the eternal appears so early.

[ 20 ] [Third:] The third task is to subdue the “Kerynitian doe,” which is sacred to Artemis, the virgin goddess of the hunt. In the allusion to the virgin Artemis and to the arts of peace, we see that this is an ascending process. [Heracles] captured this doe alive. He was permitted only to capture her alive and bring her back alive to his homeland. This was a labor he accomplished in the purely earthly realm. He turns away from the struggle for immortality. He strives to stand firm and look around him.

[ 21 ] [Fourth:] After gaining strength in this way, he sets out on another task, [namely, to capture the “Erymanthean Boar” alive]. He brings it, bound, to Mycenae. This is a warlike task. This tells us that, having overcome his warlike yearning, he must descend once more and can now undertake a more meaningful task. We see that he now—as if by chance—accomplishes something else: he wounds the centaur Chiron, who has the important task of interceding on behalf of Prometheus. We see how the myth of Prometheus intertwines here with the myth of Heracles. We see how the element of will connects here with the actual course of Heracles’ development. We see how Heracles creates and appoints the very being who is to deliver Prometheus from his torments. Thus we see how Heracles, at this stage—after he has overcome himself and withdrawn from the struggle, after he has passed through this new conflict—is now called upon to do something for striving humanity. This meaning underlies the connection between the Heracles legend and the Prometheus legend.

[ 22 ] [Fifth:] The cleansing of the Augean stables. Those who sought admission into the Mysteries had to undergo a kind of purification, a baptism of sorts. This fifth labor can be accomplished by one who has completed the first four. It is not a labor in the strict sense; it comes to a person of its own accord. It is not a true labor of Heracles. The second and fifth labors cannot strictly be considered labors of Heracles. The second leads too early to the Eternal, and the fifth is something that came to him of its own accord. They are, therefore, a kind of intermediate stage.

[ 23 ] [Sixth:] One of Heracles’s special labors is the one he undertakes against the “Stymphalian Birds.” These are birds with which he must also do battle. Pallas Athena comes to his aid during this labor. We have already seen who she is. She plays a major role in the Odyssey. She is the goddess of wisdom, of heavenly wisdom. Now, after his purification, Pallas Athena stands by his side. Pallas Athena represents—in contrast to mere knowledge—true wisdom.

[ 24 ] [Seventh:] Overcoming the birds was only one stage in his development. But it is only with Athena's help that he is able to bring the “Cretan Bull alive to Mycenae.”

[ 25 ] The bull is a symbol found in all the mystery cults that were widespread in the ancient world; a symbol that spread from Persia through Asia Minor and Egypt, and from there throughout Greece. It is a symbol of fruitful, living nature. Therefore, in the Mithraic mysteries, we see the bull paired with a remarkable symbol—a symbol of living nature. The bull’s tail ends in a bouquet of wheat ears. This is undoubtedly the symbolic representation of fruitful and living nature. And the Mithraic symbolism represents nothing other than this labor of Heracles. It appears as a higher labor of Heracles: the “Nemean Lion” is the lower one, the bull the higher. The bull is nature from which life springs, while the lion is nature that is blind and dull.

[ 26 ] This bull is sacred to Poseidon. We also know that this bull is depicted—for those who were admitted to the Mithraic mysteries—as a bull with a young man sitting on its back, thrusting his sword into the bull’s side. A dog leaps toward them. Below is a snake, depicted lengthwise. In front of and behind the bull are two attendants. The youth represents nothing other than one who is on the path of initiation. On one side, he has an attendant holding a raised torch; on the other side, an attendant holding a lowered torch. This depicts a process between life and death, which is the process of initiation. The upper section depicts the sun god on his journey—rising and then descending again. This rightly represents, in a spiritual sense, what is taking place below. This is the corresponding process in the realm of Dionysus, while the lower one is the realm in which Heracles finds himself. This image contains nothing other than the seventh labor of Heracles. It is present in all mystery depictions throughout the ancient world.

[ 27 ] [Eighth:] Now Heracles can accomplish a very important task. He can overcome the world that is hostile to humankind at its highest level. The trials are constantly renewed, and what must now be overcome is presented to us in the eighth labor: the conquest of the “fire-breathing horses of Diomedes, son of Ares.” These “fire-breathing horses” become immediately clear to us when we hear that they must be fed human flesh. Violence hostile to humanity at a higher level is what can still impose a trial on a person, even if he has already attained a high level of spiritual mastery. He overcomes this by leading the horses out himself and then taking them to Olympus, where they are torn apart by wild beasts. Now he is capable of undergoing the remaining trials. We see how what a human being can achieve on his path of development gradually forms into a well-rounded whole.

[ 28 ] [Ninth:] He then conquered the “Belt of the Amazon Queen.” This represents the act of taking possession of that which, as it were, hinders us—as something to which we are bound—from attaining the higher levels of consciousness. We are dealing here with a feminine element. He must take possession of the “Belt of the Amazon Queen.”

[ 29 ] [Tenth:] Then comes the “slaying of the three-headed Geryon and the carrying off of his cattle” [which were guarded by the dog Orthos and the shepherd Eurytion]. On an even higher level, this is the same as with the lion and the bull. It represents an overcoming of the spiritualized force of nature.

[ 30 ] [Eleventh:] But it is significant for us because he erects the Pillars of Heracles on both sides of the world. His trial now comes to an end with the erection of the two boundary pillars.

[ 31 ] Heracles might thus appear to us as a kind of initiate. However, there is something troubling about the second and fifth labors. The labors of “cleaning the Augean stables” and “killing the Lernaean Hydra,” however, indicate that he did not achieve full initiation. These two labors were not accepted.

[ 32 ] 11 b: “He had to seize the apples of the Hesperides. They were Hera’s bridal gift, [which Gaia had given to Hera at her wedding,] the symbol of knowledge itself. Heracles must first retrieve them from Hera’s garden, [where they were guarded by four maidens, the Hesperides, and the dragon Ladon, a descendant of Phorcys and Ceto]. 11 c: In this way, he frees Prometheus and 11 d overcomes Antaeus, that giant who constantly draws new strength from the earth—one who need only touch the earth to gain new strength, the power of nature. Only after Heracles has passed these seemingly insurmountable trials of nature can he retrieve the apples of the Hesperides. The [conquest of] forces of nature is not yet a permanent achievement. At this stage, he must be all the more aware that this insight must be continually renewed. This trial must be undertaken again and again. The only thing that can be achieved is that Antaeus must be fought anew time and again. He will always gain new strength upon touching the earth. It is, therefore, a ceaseless struggle.

[ 33 ] [Twelfth:] Before Heracles undertakes his twelfth labor, he is initiated into the mysteries. That is what we are told. We need not interpret this. Before he undertakes his twelfth labor, he is initiated into the Eleusinian Mysteries. And what does he accomplish here? He descends into the underworld, frees Theseus, and attains what is described as follows: He is able to bring Cerberus up from the underworld. The mystery of the underworld becomes clear to him. Heracles attains the Heraclitean wisdom of “overcoming life through death.” He comes to understand the Heraclitean formula in which Heraclitus says: The worship of Dionysus is at the same time the worship of Hades. In it, the highest deity of life converges with the god of the underworld, Hades. The fruit, then, is the attainment of the underworld—something we already encounter in the story of Odysseus. What we find in the myth of Heracles is a symbolic representation of the initiation process. The only reason it remains so incomprehensible—to the point that one does not quite know what to make of it—is that it did not actually arise from Greek philosophy, but from the realm of the mysteries.

[ 34 ] If we understand the legend of Heracles, we understand the corresponding teachings among all peoples—the Indians, Persians, and Egyptians. The mysteries of Heracles existed alongside the mysteries of the others. They all represent the initiation process to us, and the initiation process is the same throughout the ancient world. I have cited the Mithras legend only to show how the Heracles legend lives on throughout antiquity and how Greek spiritual life, in the Dionysus legend, represents the higher development of the Heracles legend—the higher in contrast to the lower. [This is illustrated by the parallel course of the Dionysus process with that of the others. It is also evident in Angelus Silesius that the initiate is not something indifferent in the course of the world, but something significant.]

[ 35 ] The Greek spiritual world also created a counterpart for the “Above” and the “Below.” What took place within Dionysus was referred to as the “spiritual process,” the “Above”; what took place within human beings was referred to as the “Below.” To mediate between the two, a concept was created: the figure of Hermes, the messenger of the gods. He delivers messages, carries love letters, and so on, but he also has a deep esoteric significance. He presents himself as the mediator between the Dionysian and the Heraclean. He is the son of Zeus and a mortal—Zeus’s union with Maia, a daughter of Atlas who dwells in the Arcadian caves. Through the mediation and union of Maia with Zeus, the mediation between the “upper” and the “lower” comes into being. Hermes is the symbol of the very essence of human spiritual power, which represents the mediation between the “upper” and the “lower.”

[ 36 ] The entire myth of Hermes is proof that the human quest for knowledge pertains to both the earthly and the spiritual nature. This dual-natured quest for knowledge is embodied in Hermes. He is the “Wise One,” the “Cunning One.” Even as a child, he raided Apollo’s herd of cattle and carried off a number of them. His cunning as a child was already so great that his pursuer could not follow their trail. He led them in such a way that the cattle walked backward. The pursuer was thus misled. Apollo, however, [uncovered] the solution to the mystery with the help of Zeus.

[ 37 ] Hermes succeeded in fashioning a lyre from a turtle shell. Here we see how the power of the mind leads from the “lower” to the “higher” through human beings. He gives this turtle-shell lyre to Apollo in exchange for the herd of cattle.

[ 38 ] Here we see a division taking place: On the one hand, we have the actual pursuit of knowledge. — Music and the arts have passed to the other messengers of the gods; Apollo, too, is a messenger of the gods. Hermes and Apollo are two messengers of the gods. In Hermes we find the sense of truth, and in Apollo the sense of beauty. Here, once again, we find the gift of imagination as a connection between the lower and the higher. Thus, Hermes and Apollo appear to us as mediators between the lower and the higher. They are the two forces that connect the Dionysian with the Heraclitean for us. They present to us as separate that which, at the original stage, existed for us as a unified process.

[ 39 ] This is how the later mystery teachings took shape. These are the later myths, which could only arise from those that contained truth, beauty, and goodness as an indivisible whole. When the festivals celebrated in the mystery temples encompassed everything as if within a single trunk, there could be no “Hermes” or “Apollo.” But when the artistic striving, as seen in the tragedies of Aeschylus, and the quest for truth in Socrates and Plato emerged, these two branches of the original trunk appeared. Thus, on the one hand, we have the pursuit of knowledge, which originated with Socrates and Plato, and on the other hand, art, which, curiously enough, has never—not even to this day—been consistently associated with the pursuit of truth in the consciousness of the majority of humanity.

[ 40 ] It was not until the turn of the eighteenth to the nineteenth century that the realization dawned once again that these two branches belong together, that neither can exist without the other, and that true deepening is possible only when these two branches are reunited. For a large part of human consciousness, this union cannot be considered attainable. Where, however, we have encountered something significant in this regard, it is to be found in Goethe. Just how deeply Goethe penetrated these matters can be seen from the following words: “I suspect that the Greeks act in accordance with the eternal laws by which nature itself acts.”

[ 41 ] A ray of that [primordial ray]—from which Greek spiritual life developed—began to dawn on [him]. And the result was many things that have appeared to us as points of light.

FAQ:

Question: What is the relationship between the development of Plato's mystical philosophy, on the one hand, and the development of tragedy, on the other?

[ 42 ] [Answer:] Scholars have sought the origins of tragedy in the development of tragedy within Greek life. In Wagnerian circles, it is well understood that even in late Greek culture there was still a sense of what the mere shadow of the Mysteries—tragedy—was all about. We see this from Aristotle’s description of tragedy and the epic. What he writes on the subject has been misunderstood in an incredible way. Countless books have been written speculating on what he might have meant by “purification through fear and pity.” Through catharsis, we are purified of fear and pity. One cannot know what catharsis represents unless one considers it on the basis of the wisdom of the mysteries, the essence of the mysteries. The passions were calmed by soothing music. Only then did the actors take the stage. This is the first stage of the initiation process. Tragedy presents this process to us in an exoteric way. It is the shadowed, great catharsis within the Greek mysteries. If one reads Aristotle’s “Poetics” with this premise in mind, then one can also understand what Aristotle was able to say. Without this background, it is completely worthless.

[ 43 ] Thus one truly comes to understand that art has sprung from immense depths. It is not something eternal; it stands alongside the pursuit of truth as something temporal. Art presents itself to us as something in the face of which the persuasive power of truth has faded from human consciousness. Therefore, it is not even felt that art, at its core, also seeks truth. This awareness has been lost. The core of truth has been stripped away from [it].

[ 44 ] The other tree appears to us in Platonic philosophy and in Philonian philosophy as a new quest for truth. In Platonic philosophy, we are faced with a quest to advance toward knowledge along the one-sided path of the pursuit of truth. It is entirely natural that Plato arrived at the theory of ideas: for Plato, the process of the world was, on the one hand, emergence from chaos and, on the other, emergence from ideas. The process of the world consists in the continual interpenetration of the spiritual with the material, of ideas with chaos.

[ 45 ] The Demiurge, the World Soul, emerges as the first creation. It is prime matter into which the breath of the Spirit has penetrated. Plato depicts this in the form of a cross. And connected to this form is the entire world of Ideas—the Logoi, as Plato’s world of Ideas must be called. Thus it presents itself as a striving for pure truth and then again in the Timaeus as truth itself. This truth is presented to us through a new image, through the new symbol of “the Logos stretched upon the world cross.” Here we have the Logos in connection with the world cross.

[ 46 ] You will now see that it was already inherent in the original Platonic mystic that, in the form in which Christianity later developed—after it had passed through a Greek spiritual consciousness—[...] it had to deepen from mere myth to true mysticism. The Logos crucified on the World Cross is indeed found in Greek thought.