Ancient Mysteries and Christianity
GA 87
17 January 1902, Berlin
Translated by Steiner Online Library
11. The Basic Concepts of the Platonic Worldview
[Ladies and gentlemen!]
[ 1 ] Eight days ago, I took the liberty of discussing the Platonic “Phaedo” and the dialogue on the immortality—or rather, the infinity—of the soul, in order to show how Plato has his hero, let’s say Socrates, speak to a kind of initiated group, to like-minded souls, to souls who can understand him. I said that it is a kind of spiritual conversation with those who are already immersed in the matter at hand. And we have seen that its primary purpose is to lead the participants upward, where they actually develop within themselves that which Goethe describes: “And as long as you do not have this—this dying and becoming—you are but a gloomy guest on the dark earth.”
[ 2 ] The dialogue picks up where Socrates’ death left off to show what Plato conceives of as the sensible world, how it appears in [his] intellectual retrospective, how Plato conceives of this retrospective, and how, through it, eternity into our temporal existence, and how, for him, all things that exist in the sensory world appear in their true meaning, in their transience and insignificance. “Phaedo” is, in this respect, the most significant of Plato’s dialogues, because it presents the event of death—which weighs most heavily upon human beings—as an untrue event. It is the sharpest conceivable belief in the spiritual world that is expressed here. He says to himself: I believe in the living; and because I believe in the living, I overcome all other things that appear to me in the sensory world. I also overcome the belief in death; I do not believe in the truth of sensory appearances; I believe in the truth of the primordial living.
[ 3 ] The point here is not to provide a logical proof. Through the direct perception of the spiritual, the student is to awaken an insight into the primordial life, so that death, too, is merely an event of the sensory world. Hence this conversation in the face of Socrates’ death. The spirit is to be in direct harmony with what is presented as a sensory event, so that Socrates simultaneously embodies, as a spiritual interest, what he expresses in the conversation—so that it is expressed as a symbol—so that the dying Socrates, at the very moment he faces sensory death, seeks to instill in his students the belief that death and everything connected with it is a continuous overcoming of sensory appearances, that life is a continuous dying, the process of finding one’s way into everyday life.
[ 4 ] Just as he imparts this teaching to his students, he is at the same time able to seal with his death what he has taught. This is how the “Phaedo” appears to us. Even in its external structure, it is a symbol of what lies within. Socrates is the radiant [guest] who had grasped this cycle of dying and becoming, and who, in the face of death, sought to make it understandable to his students.
[ 5 ] In contrast to this stands the other Platonic dialogue, the “Symposium,” in which [Plato] also has Socrates converse with his friends. Here we have the exact opposite. We see Socrates in the very embodiment of the highest affirmation of life, surrounded by revelers, immersed in an idea that—just as the immortality of the soul is in the Phaedo—is love in the dialogue The Symposium. Once again, one slowly seeks to grasp this idea. Yet this grasping is such that, among the guests, [Socrates] alone is the seer. All those around him have neither found it nor understood it. They have not grasped it. Socrates towers like a pillar above those who speak from darkness and error. Among them, Socrates appears to us as the sole seer. It is thus a complement to the truly clairvoyant dialogue of the Phaedo. Here, in the Symposium, we are shown just how infinitely outstanding is the one who possesses Plato’s highest blessings—and how these are embodied in Socrates. Socrates is confronted with a wide variety of views. We see how the guests personally express their views on love. First, Phaedrus, a man of ordinary life who has reflected on the subject from the standpoint of common sense. Then Pausanias, a statesman; then a physician; then a poet of the comic genre; and then one of the tragic poets—in short, personalities who have not penetrated the depths of the spirit.
[ 6 ] We can now see how he conceived of the contrast between different kinds of people. Phaedrus said that Eros is the divine, that which is intrinsically valuable. Those who are united in love are thereby compelled to behave virtuously. The one who loves another, who is bound to him in friendship, will feel compelled in a completely different way to behave virtuously. A sense of shame will overcome him if he allows himself to be led astray by a vice. We see [...], that everything practical—the utilitarian perspective—is praised as the source of virtue.
[ 7 ] The statesman explains that the entire order of the state is founded on love and that the state is held together by it.
[ 8 ] We then see how the physician extols love, how he demonstrates how illness is healed through it, as the substances—whether they love one another or not—guide the remedy so that it acts in accordance with the deepest laws of the world. It is the disharmony in the universe from which illness arises. Harmony is what the physician strives for. It is from love that harmony develops for him. Thus, the scholar confronts Eros, which permeates everything. I have already spoken of how Empedocles posits that the world is composed of four primordial substances and how these substances then assume a hostile opposition. What the physicist calls repulsion and attraction, Empedocles calls hatred and love.
[ 9 ] [Fourth, we encounter]: Aristophanes reveals his view of love through myth. We have seen that Plato turns to myth when he wishes to ascend to higher realms. Where scientific concepts fall short, he turns to myth, to poetry. This is not something [intended to appear as a higher form of imagination], but rather poetry is meant to be a reflection of higher spiritual events. Aristophanes thus expresses himself as follows: Originally, human nature was of an entirely different kind. If we could look back to the earth’s origins, we would see human beings who were not only divided into individuals but also such that several individuals were united into one. Only later, through a kind of Fall, were these individuals separated. They have retained a longing for one another from this original state. This longing is expressed in their love for one another. They seek what they once were and strive toward one another to regain their original state, their original nature. For the beloved, love is nothing other than the striving for their other half, from whom they have been separated by the world. — This is the comic worldview through which he expresses his perspective. He traces it back to what lies beneath what is now human nature. Where the spiritual and the natural collide—where they come together in a direct manner—the comic presents itself to us. Every single comic phenomenon consists of nothing other than the succession of the natural, the [clash] of the natural with the spiritual, without our being able to perceive the harmonious balance between the two.
[ 10 ] Humor arises from the attempt to establish a connection between things that do not belong together, so that the yawning chasm between sensory diversity and spiritual unity is always revealed. It is in this search by the spiritual essence for its original natural foundation—this gaping chasm—that Aristophanes finds his image of Eros.
[ 11 ] The tragic poet [Agathon] seeks to sing of the god of love in a solemn manner. He, too, expresses his view. He describes the nature of the god of love by saying: He is that which manifests itself as the fire of the soul, that which winds its way from soul to soul. While longing is a quality of reason, love arose when the wisdom of the soul took hold. As the human soul feels drawn to the primordial soul of the world, the infinite workings of Eros are revealed. He shows how all human beings are an outflow of the soul; he shows that the highest form of virtue rests in the middle state. It is precisely the soul filled with love that triumphs everywhere over blind force.
[ 12 ] The wisdom of the mind is stronger than the blind force that reigns in the world. [Eros] is stronger than Ares, who charges blindly forward. These are worldly views that he presents to us. He now contrasts these with the Socratic views.
[ 13 ] It is Socrates who now expresses his view on love. He is the only radiant guest among the gloomy guests, rising above the sensory world and immediately ascending to the vision of the Eternal, of ideality. I will shortly show what a remarkable phenomenon Plato introduces in response to Socrates’ arguments, and we will see how Plato has provided a counterpoint to his Phaedo. We will see that [Socrates] does not say: “I am presenting a conviction here.” For all those I have cited are, in fact, expressing their own opinions. Socrates, as a personality, says he has no opinion at all. [It has no value whatsoever; it is not even worth considering. He immediately places his personality in the proper light. He immediately shows: I am a part of the manifold world. But let that which I have become speak through me. That is why he says: “I am not imparting my own wisdom”—instead, he points to a seer, saying that she has initiated him into what he is now sharing.
[ 14 ] Here, in Plato’s work, is the passage where you can see what the Greeks meant by this. Whenever a female figure—a priestess, a goddess, a heroine, or any other female entity—enters the spiritual process, it always refers to a state of consciousness. We have seen this in the development of Greek myths, and we see it today as well. Socrates reveals nothing. He does not wish to speak from the ordinary level of consciousness, but from the higher one. He rises to what the [seer] Diotima has taught him. What does Socrates explain that Diotima has taught him? He explains, in his own way at first, what love is, and asks: Is it truly to be praised as that which carries no matter within itself? Is it truly as different as others have portrayed it? It has been said that Eros is the oldest and most valuable god. But let us just see how he manifests himself. This deity manifests itself by inclining toward something it does not possess itself. We must therefore say that it is based on [lack]. The wise seer taught me something else. She taught me [—so says Socrates—] that love, Eros, was conceived at the festival of Aphrodite by the god of abundance on the one hand and by the goddess of scarcity, of lack, on the other. Want and wealth are the parents of Eros. We see, therefore, that wherever love appears, it is not actually divine, but rather it is precisely that which stands between the human and the divine. It is that which did not arise from the sheer hardship of life, but rather from the lack in life and from the abundance of the Eternal—as that which serves as the mediating force that lifts humanity upward.
[ 15 ] This is how Socrates describes love. Eros is precisely the mediator who leads one from the sensual to the fullness of the spirit. Thus, Eros is not strictly speaking a god, but a mediator between the divine and the human. That is why [Socrates] calls him a “daemon.” This also explains [why the term “daemon” is otherwise used]. Socrates speaks of obeying an inner voice when he is to do or refrain from doing something. This daemon is nothing other than what we encounter here as Eros—that which leads us upward toward the divine. Therefore, he describes Eros as something daemonic, not as something divine. It is the force that leads us upward toward the divine, toward the infinite. When we find it in diversity, when we find it as that which appears to us as light, when we have left darkness behind, then it is Eros that guides us, leading us upward toward the infinite. It is Eros, then, whom Socrates portrays as the guide to the essence. Eros, love, appears to us there just as it does in Indian tradition, when Krishna says: “In the center of the sun is the light, in the center of the light is the truth, and in the truth is the essence.”
[ 16 ] In the Platonic view, we also find that infinite being is realized in the truth that appears from the perspective of eternity. Accompanying this Platonic view is the idea that the demonic force which lifts human beings out of their immediate sensory existence and into the vision of eternity is nothing other than the daemon of love.
[ 17 ] Thus Socrates appears to us as the one who follows Eros in order to be led up to immediate truth. Socrates is portrayed to us as appearing, amidst the other speakers, like one with clear vision, a seer. Things get wild at the “Banquet.” They are caught up in the sensory world. And while Socrates imparts wisdom in his speeches, other speakers fall asleep—that is, they cannot escape the dark multiplicity. He converses with the comic and tragic poets and discusses the Ideas with them. As the last ones who have remained clear-sighted, he seeks to lead them to the vision of eternity. He converses with them, saying that the poet—the true poet—must be able to express the comic just as well as the tragic.
[ 18 ] Here we see how Socrates goes beyond the poet, yet retains his faith in poetry to the very end. Here he points out that tragedy and comedy are capable of elevating us to the eternal. The comic and the tragic arise when the manifold is measured against unity, the [transient against the eternal,] against truth. Wherever we encounter the tragic or the comic, the spirit must in some way stand in contrast to the sensual. The tragic hero in a tragedy appears tragic only because, within him, the idea ultimately triumphs over the decline of the external, the mortal. The spirit, in contrast to the earthly and material, appears as the comic. When a person surveys the disharmony of the earthly realm after having already undergone a certain development on the spiritual ladder—that is, when he looks back at what is happening down below, which does not appear as harmony in its diversity, even though to his gaze it seems like a kind of harmony—then it appears to him as humor. The one who looks back is the truly comic one, in the sense that Socrates speaks his words from the vantage point of the vision of eternity.
[ 19 ] And when the spiritual emphasizes the immense difficulties it must overcome, when it emphasizes how hard it is to break free from the material—not by countering it in a lighthearted way, but by seriously setting forth the opposing argument—then tragic poetry emerges. [What the wise Silenus replies to the tragic King Midas] regarding the problem is: What would be best for a human being? The best thing for a human being would be not to be born and, having been born, to die soon.
[ 20 ] This is to be understood as meaning that what is enclosed within the temporal form transcends that form and penetrates into the eternal. In this way, human beings overcome tragedy. Herein lies the primal tragedy that everyone must experience who has a perspective both upward toward the spiritual and downward, depending on the mood that overtakes them, depending on whether they view the penetration from below or from above. Depending on the nature of their outlook, the world appears to them as tragic or comic. The poet must be able to work with both the tragic and the comic, depending on whether the perspective is directed upward or downward. This is possible for the one who has a free view both upward and downward.
[ 21 ] Socrates remains the seer—not as one who sees the spiritual and the material side by side, but as one who recognizes the interweaving of the two; one who is no longer humorous nor serious, but who resolves the opposition within the great process of development, where the material has intensified, the spiritual penetrates from above, and thereby animates the material. It is a unified perspective that takes the place of the tragic and the comic. He is the sage standing alongside the two. They fall away, and Socrates remains alone. It is he who outlasts them. From the standpoint of the Greek view of life—and not as a crude symbolic representation—it should be noted: He drank the most. The others have fallen away. He is the one who alone remains awake, completely. Even if this is a troubling symbol for us, it was intended to express that Socrates was so deeply initiated that no sensory or material influence could deter him from his clairvoyance. It is in his personality that what Plato depicts as the fusion of the material and the spiritual finds its expression.
[ 22 ] [Eros has led him] to the vision of eternity, to spirituality. He is sensuality transformed into spirituality. In his personality, he immediately appears as the bearer of wisdom, as the bearer of this spiritual essence, while the others are presented to us as those who have remained clouded. Here it is the brighter spirit of Socrates who has grasped it, who has freed himself from all sensual diversity, who has attained the Primordial Eternal through the power of Eros, by which he has allowed himself to be guided.
[ 23 ] Thus, the “Banquet” is the complete antithesis of the discussion on the immortality or infinity of the soul. It is meant to show us how Socrates ascends to the eternal, while the others remain bound to the temporal. The best part, as Plato shows us, is how he [Socrates] ceases to act as a sage and instead recounts what he received as inspiration from the goddess and the priestess. This is proof that the Greek mystic always used the symbol of the feminine, which represents a deepening of the state of consciousness.
[ 24 ] We see, then, that for Plato it is always a matter of elevating human beings to deeper or higher states of consciousness. What Plato means by his “vision of eternity” is not presented to us so clearly in his own writings. It only becomes apparent to us in a later era, coinciding with the emergence of Christianity in the West. We shall see how these ideas first acquire their true meaning through Philo’s mysticism.
[ 25 ] What Plato shows us as a spiritual path can also be found in substance within the Western world. But whoever clings more to the outward form of Plato finds in him an unopened bud. He shows us, in the form of a bud, what he has grasped within himself. We will only see this bud unfold when we go beyond Plato. Just as we see in Plato the dawn of Heraclitean philosophy, so does the dawn of Platonic philosophy appear to us in Philo.
[ 26 ] I do not mean to say that Plato was not at a higher level of knowledge. The ancients succeeded in expressing this in a more direct way than Plato did. I would describe mysticism—up to Neoplatonic mysticism—as a continuous unfolding. [A powerful folding] is evident in Heraclitus. He drew directly from the wisdom of the mysteries. Heraclitus represents a very important point in the dawn of Greek spiritual life. That is why Heraclitus was well aware that just as the Logos must follow descending paths in the development of the world, so too must matter follow the ascending path. The Logos must spiritualize matter, and so it is called upon to permeate it. At first, it appears as mere babbling. Only later does the word attain the power to represent the spirit directly. Thus, the entire spiritual process is a continuous permeation of the word by the spirit.
[ 27 ] The Buddha said this as early as 600 years before the birth of Christ. His words possess a divine power. They may reveal more of themselves than what they now seem to contain. They are, as it were, the body for what they contain. They do indeed already contain this; however, the body has only been able to develop through gradual approximation. At the dawn of Christianity, the Spirit of the Word took hold and assumed dominion over the Word at the very time when the Word truly became flesh. It was not until Plato that the Word became a direct expression of the spiritual. In Plato, this is still veiled like a bud. This is also the reason why Platonic philosophy, when taken merely in its exoteric sense without deeper mystical insight, cannot immediately reveal what it intends to reveal. It does, after all, possess the abysmal depth of all essential insight. But this depth still lies enclosed within the depths of the matter itself. The outer garment of the Platonic dialogues has not yet brought forth the full wisdom. And hence the claim that Platonic philosophy does, after all, contain contradictions.
[ 28 ] In the juxtaposition of the material and the spiritual, one sees [according to Plato] a kind of “Achilles’ heel,” and we must admit this even in the exoteric sense. Platonic mysticism becomes understandable only when we view it from an esoteric perspective, as we attempted to do with the Phaedo and the Symposium. But when we approach it in this way, many things that otherwise seem disjointed become clear to us. On the one hand, Plato presents the contemplation of ideas; on the other, the world of sensory existence. Plato did not succeed in showing that, in fact, one is also the other, that one reigns within the other. He did not succeed in showing that “I” is “you” and “you” is “I,” that the individual has no right to address himself as “I,” that he may say “I” to himself only when he has transcended the individual “I.”
[ 29 ] Plato contrasted earthly diversity with the unity that hovers above the earthly realm. He must overcome sensory existence and can then advance toward the Eternal. How, then, does the temporal appear to us? The temporal is powerless in the face of the Eternal. The temporal is not imbued with the Eternal. Plato found no transition. Plato does indeed have the Eternal, but not as the eternal Creator. “Plato does not know the creative, divine Personality,” says the Christian. “Temporality is part of creation,” says the Christian in contrast to Plato. Although he pointed to the Eternal, he did not understand how to explain the temporal through the Eternal, nor how to bring them into harmonious accord. This can rightly be said when one views the matter from an exoteric perspective.
[ 30 ] Plato distinguishes between two kinds of knowledge: sensory knowledge, or the wisdom of temporality, and the wisdom of infinity. And so we have come to see how his bud must be brought to bloom. He who still regards “I” and “You” as separate has not yet arrived at the point where the essence is “One.” He knows, therefore, that there are two kinds of knowledge: the wisdom of the infinite and the wisdom of the finite. But he also knows that these two kinds of knowledge appear as two only as long as the essence itself is caught up in multiplicity, in finitude. He points out that one should not contrast two kinds of knowledge in an absolute sense, but rather recognize that there is a ladder of stages leading in the direction toward which wisdom leads—that one can indeed elevate oneself to wisdom.
[ 31 ] We always see beings evolving toward divinity, from sensory knowledge to divine knowledge. We can also regard this as a defining characteristic of the Greek quest for wisdom: the Greek sage was aware that even on his path to wisdom, the earthly must be transformed into the eternal; that he, too, must rise along the path of wisdom; that knowledge must not remain where it is merely worldly knowledge, but that just as just as the religious person must set out on the path, so too must the seeker of wisdom set out on the same path. The Greek sage is aware that the quest for wisdom is one of the paths to the infinite.
[ 32 ] This is what led Heraclitus to find the right expression; this is what led Heraclitus to true theosophy, to true philosophy. He distinguished between earthly and divine wisdom. When the soul ascends from the body into the free ether, it becomes an immortal god; then knowledge is on its way to becoming divine wisdom. - Perception from the eternal perspective of the gods, becoming divine—that is what the development of Greek wisdom strives for. Not knowledge of a place or thing lying behind things, but a becoming of wisdom—that is what the Greek development strives for.
[ 33 ] I think we have seen that Platonic mysticism is one of the most important stages in the Greek quest for wisdom—a journey from the earthly and temporal, from purely human opinion, to divine wisdom.
Q&A:
[ 34 ] “Timaeus” and “Phaedo,” which lead us from philosophy into mysticism, are the pinnacles of Platonic philosophy. These will then guide us toward the Gospel of John and the Book of Revelation.
[ 35 ] Socrates looks down upon suffering and joy from a higher vantage point.
[ 36 ] Diversity is not to be overcome through knowledge, but in and of itself. In the Mystery of Christ, death itself is overcome as such, not merely through the realization that death is a mere trifle. Suffering—which Socrates could only console himself with—must here be vanquished and overcome. Victory must be achieved. There must be an absolute necessity for this victory to be achieved.
[ 37 ] Wisdom is merely a shortening of the path. Plato, to put it in exoteric terms, shortened it to one-third. Through initiation—through the divine within the purely spiritual, just as in Plato’s case through knowledge—humanity must overcome death. Not everyone can walk the path of wisdom. Therefore, there must also be a path that runs through real life, where the Word made flesh, the Spirit made incarnate, is the overcoming. That is why the Socratic overcoming exists for the wise. For the ordinary person, however, the Socratic overcoming cannot exist under ordinary circumstances. For the higher truths and insights, there is no great difference. But there is a great difference for human beings. Hübbe-Schleiden expresses it this way: Mysticism is of the highest value for human beings; but whoever wishes to set the entire human race on the path must also draw upon spiritual insights. Therefore, this idea relates to the Socratic one just as life relates to the spirit. The salvation achieved through the Christ-idea is salvation in life, as opposed to salvation in the spirit alone.
