The Rudolf Steiner Archive

First Lecture

[ 1 ] This is now the third time that I have been given the opportunity here in Switzerland to discuss, from a certain perspective, the greatest event in the history of the Earth and of humanity. The first time was when I was permitted to speak in Basel about this event from the perspective provided by the Gospel of John; the second time, when I was permitted to present that characterization of this event based on the Gospel of Luke; and this time, for the third time, the inspiration for this account will come from the Gospel of Matthew. I have often hinted that there lies something significant precisely in the fact that this event has been preserved for us in four accounts that, in a certain sense, appear to differ from one another. What, in a sense, prompts today’s outwardly materialistic mindset to intervene with negative, corrosive criticism is precisely what appears significant to us according to our anthroposophical conviction. No one should presume to characterize any being or fact if they view it from only one side. I have often used this comparison: If one photographs a tree from one side, no one can claim that this photograph provides a true representation of what the tree presents to the eye from the outside; if, on the other hand, one were to photograph the tree from four sides—and even if one were to obtain four different images that bear little resemblance to one another—one would still be able to gain a comprehensive view of the tree by looking at these four images together. If this is already the case in such an external sense for every single thing, how could one not surmise that an event—which encompasses the greatest abundance of occurrences and the greatest abundance of the essence of all existence for us humans—could not possibly be fully encompassed if it were described from only one perspective? Therefore, it is not contradictions that come to light in the four Gospels. Rather, the underlying fact here is that the writers were aware that each of them could describe this momentous event only from one perspective, and that humanity can gradually gain a complete picture by considering these various accounts together. And so let us, too, be patient and try to gradually approach this greatest event of the Incarnation by drawing on these four accounts and developing our own understanding—based on what we can know—by referring to these documents, which we call the New Testament.

[ 2 ] From some of what has been said earlier, you can already begin to grasp how the four different starting points or perspectives of the Gospels can be presented. For now, however, before I even provide a superficial description of these four perspectives, I would like to point out that at the beginning of this lecture series, I do not intend to do what is customary today when presenting the Gospel or one of the Gospels. One usually begins by describing their historical origins. This will become clearest to us if we wait until the end of our lecture series to discuss, for example, the history of the origins of the Gospel of Matthew. For it is only natural—and this can be demonstrated by examples from other sciences—that one can understand the history of any subject only after one has grasped the subject itself. For example, no one who knows nothing about arithmetic will be able to benefit from a history of arithmetic. Everywhere else, the historical account is placed at the end, and where this is not done, the structure contradicts the natural needs of human understanding. And so we, too, will accommodate these needs of human understanding and attempt to examine the content of the Gospel we wish to discuss, and then go into some detail regarding the historical development of this particular Gospel.

[ 3 ] If you allow the Gospels to take effect on you from the outside, you can already sense a certain difference in the way these Gospels present things, in the way they speak. If you allow what has been said in my lectures on the Gospel of John and the Gospel of Luke to sink in, you will have an even clearer sense of this distinction, particularly with regard to these two Gospels. When one engages with the Gospel of John, one must say that wherever one attempts to penetrate its powerful messages, one is overcome by a sense of spiritual grandeur to which one looks up with a sense of awe, and that in the Gospel of John one can find how it reveals to us the highest to which human wisdom can aspire—the highest that can gradually become accessible to human understanding. Human beings stand there, as it were, below, looking up toward a summit of worldly existence and saying to themselves: “No matter how small you may be as a human being, the Gospel of John lets you sense that something is entering your soul—something with which you are kindred and that overwhelms you like a feeling of the infinite.” Thus, it is primarily the spiritual greatness of the beings of the worlds—kindred to the human being—that enters our soul when we speak of the Gospel of John.

[ 4 ] Let us now recall the feeling that might have come over us when reading the Gospel of Luke. Everything that must have permeated that account of the Gospel of Luke back then was different. While in the Gospel of John it is primarily the spiritual grandeur to which we intuitively look up that permeates our soul like a magical breath when we immerse ourselves in the messages of this Gospel, in the Gospel of Luke it is the intimacy, the very soulfulness itself, that meets us— one might say, the intensity of all that the forces of love can accomplish in the world, of all that the forces of sacrifice can achieve in the world, when we are able to share in them. While the Gospel of John depicts the essence of Christ Jesus in its spiritual grandeur, the Gospel of Luke reveals this essence in its immeasurable capacity for sacrifice, and it allows us to glimpse what has come to pass in the overall evolution of the world and humanity through such a sacrifice of love—a force that, like other forces, pulses through and interweaves the world. Thus, it is primarily the realm of feeling in which we live and move when we allow the Gospel of Luke to take effect within us, and it is the realm of knowledge that speaks to us about the ultimate reasons and ultimate goals of this knowledge—which is what comes to meet us from the Gospel of John. The Gospel of John speaks more to our intellect, the Gospel of Luke more to our hearts. One can sense this in the individual Gospels themselves; but it was also our aim to allow this fundamental mood, as it were, to permeate the spiritual science expositions we developed based on these two texts. Anyone who wanted to hear only words during the lecture series on the Gospel of John or the Gospel of Luke has truly not heard everything. The manner of speaking was fundamentally different in these lecture series. Everything will have to be quite different again when we approach the Gospel of Matthew.

[ 5 ] In the case of the Gospel of Luke, we saw everything we call human love—as it once existed in the course of human evolution—flowing into the being who lived as Jesus Christ at the beginning of our New Testament era. If one considers the Gospel of Matthew only superficially, one must say that it is, first and foremost, a document that is actually more multifaceted than the other two—indeed, in a certain respect, more multifaceted than all three of the other Gospels.

[ 6 ] And when we come to examine the Gospel of Mark, we will see that it, too, is in a certain sense one-sided. While the Gospel of John reveals to us the wisdom of Christ Jesus, and the Gospel of Luke reveals the power of love, a description of the Gospel of Mark will present us with what, above all, passes through all the realms of the world as power, as creative forces—one might say—as the glory of the world. But there is something overwhelming in the Gospel of Mark in the way it brings to life the intensity of the world’s power. It is as if the world’s power were rushing toward us from all sides of space when we truly bring the Gospel of Mark to our understanding!

[ 7 ] Thus, what we encounter in the Gospel of Luke is something that touches our souls deeply and warmly; what overwhelms us in the Gospel of John is something that gives us hope for the soul; and what we feel when we allow the Gospel of Mark to take effect is a kind of awe at the power and glory of the forces of the universe, before which we might almost collapse.

[ 8 ] The Gospel of Matthew is different. All three elements—the hopeful, promising element of insight; the warm element of feeling and love; and the majestic grandeur of the universe—are all, one might say, present in the Gospel of Matthew. But they are, in a certain sense, so tempered within it that, in their tempered form, they seem much more familiar to us as human beings than in the other three Gospels. When we allow the other three Gospels to take effect upon us, we feel as though we might crumble in the face of their grandeur of insight, love, and glory. All of this is present in the Gospel of Matthew, but it is presented in such a way that we are able to remain upright in its presence. It is all more humanly relatable to us, so that we can stand not beneath it, but, in a certain sense, alongside it. Nowhere in the Gospel of Matthew are we crushed, even though it also contains some of what can have a crushing effect in the other three Gospels. Therefore, the Gospel of Matthew is the most universally human of these four texts. It portrays Christ Jesus to us most of all as a human being, so that when we allow the Christ Jesus of Matthew to work within us, he stands close to us in a human way in all his members and in all his deeds. In a certain sense, the Gospel of Matthew is something like a commentary on the other three Gospels. What is sometimes too vast for us to grasp in the other three becomes clear to us on a smaller scale through the Gospel of Matthew. And when we understand this, a meaningful light will be shed on the other three Gospels. This is easily understood from the details.

[ 9 ] Let us first consider what is about to be said purely from a stylistic perspective. In order for the Gospel of Luke to describe how the highest degree of love and self-sacrifice flows from this being—whom we call Christ Jesus—into humanity and into the world, it draws upon a current of human history that extends back to the very earliest times of Earth’s creation. And Luke himself traces this current all the way back to the dawn of humanity. - In order to show us where human beings, with their knowledge and wisdom, can begin their journey toward the goal to which this knowledge can lead, the Gospel of John presents to us right at the outset how the portrayal of Christ Jesus is rooted in the creative Logos itself. The most spiritual thing we can attain through our knowledge is set forth right in the first sentences of the Gospel of John. We are immediately led to the highest point of the quest for knowledge, to a summit that can be brought to life within the human heart. — The situation is different in the Gospel of Matthew. It begins by showing us the genealogy of the man Jesus of Nazareth in terms of his origins, so to speak, from a historical perspective. It shows us the genealogy within a single people: how, in a sense, all the lineages that we find united in Jesus of Nazareth have been brought together through heredity from Abraham onward—as if a people, over the course of three times fourteen generations, had allowed the very best it possessed to flow into the blood, so as to embody the highest human powers in a perfect way within a single human individual. - The Gospel of John leads us into the infinity of the Logos. The Gospel of Luke ascends into the immeasurable expanse of human evolution all the way back to the beginning. The Gospel of Matthew shows us a people of manageable size, passing down its characteristics from the patriarch Abraham through three times fourteen generations; in this way, it reveals to us the man Jesus of Nazareth.

[ 10 ] It can only be hinted at here that for anyone who truly wishes to understand the Gospel of Mark, it is necessary, in a certain sense, to be familiar with the cosmological forces that permeate the entire unfolding of our world. For just as Christ Jesus is portrayed in the Gospel of Mark, we are shown how a distillation, an essence of the cosmos, is present in human activity—an essence of what otherwise lives in the immeasurable expanse of the cosmos as cosmic forces. We are shown how the deeds of Christ Jesus are, as it were, extracts of cosmic forces. The Gospel of Mark seeks to depict how Christ Jesus, the God-man, as he stands on Earth, appears before us, as it were, as an extract of the sun’s activity with all its immeasurability. Thus, Mark describes how the activity of the stars works through human power.

[ 11 ] The Gospel of Matthew also touches upon the influence of the stars in a certain way. That is why, right there where it describes the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, it leads us to a vantage point from which we are to view this great cosmic event in such a way that cosmic facts stand in a certain connection with the becoming of humanity—by showing the star that guides the three Magi to the birthplace of Jesus. But it does not describe a cosmic effect, as the Gospel of Mark does; it does not require us to lift our gaze to this cosmic effect: it shows us three human beings, three Magi, and the effect that the cosmic forces exert upon these three people. And we can turn to these three people to sense what they are feeling. Thus, we are directed toward the human being even when we are meant to soar toward the cosmic. The reflection of the cosmic in the human heart is revealed. Our gaze is not carried out into immeasurable expanses; rather, the effect of the cosmic in the human heart is shown to us.

[ 12 ] I ask once again that these allusions be understood solely in stylistic terms. For the fundamental nature of the Gospels is that they describe events from various perspectives. The way in which they describe them is entirely characteristic of what they seek to tell us about the greatest event in the evolution of humanity and the Earth.

[ 13 ] This is also, first and foremost, the most significant aspect of the opening of the Gospel of Matthew: that we are directed to the closest blood relationship of Jesus of Nazareth. It answers, as it were, the question: What was the physical nature of this Jesus of Nazareth? How were all the characteristics of a people, dating back to the patriarch Abraham, brought together in this one individual, so that the essence we call the Christ essence could be revealed in him? This question is answered for us. We are told: In order for the Christ-essence to incarnate in a physical body, that physical body had to possess characteristics that it could only have if all the characteristics of the blood of that people, descended from Abraham, were synthesized into an essence embodied in a single individual: Jesus of Nazareth. It will therefore be shown that this blood in Jesus of Nazareth truly traces back, generation by generation, to the progenitor of the Hebrew people. Thus, the essence of this people—that which makes this people unique in world history and in the development of humanity and the Earth—is concentrated, in particular, in the physical personality of Jesus of Nazareth. What, then, must one first understand if one wishes to grasp the intention of the author of the Gospel of Matthew with regard to this introduction? One must understand the essence of the Hebrew people! One must be able to answer the question: What contribution could the Hebrew people have made to humanity precisely through their distinctive character?

[ 14 ] Our external history—the external, materialistic accounts of history—pay little attention to what is presented here. External history describes external facts. And in this account, one people is essentially placed on the same level as another, because the description is entirely abstract. In the process, the very fact that is fundamental for anyone who wishes to understand human development is completely overlooked: namely, the fact that no two peoples have the same task in human development, but that each people has its own special mission and its own specific tasks. Every people has a part to contribute to the total treasure that is to be bestowed upon the Earth through human development. And each of these parts is different, a very specific one. Every people has its specific mission. Now, however, right down to the details of physical conditions, every people is constituted in such a way that it can properly fulfill the contribution it is to make to all of humanity. In other words, the bodies of the people belonging to a nation reveal to us such a configuration—of the physical body as well as the etheric and astral bodies—and such a combination of these bodies that they can become the proper instrument for bringing about the contribution that each nation is to make to all of humanity. - What contribution, specifically, was the Hebrew people to make, and how did the essence of this contribution by the Hebrew people then take shape in the body of Jesus of Nazareth?

[ 15 ] If one wishes to understand the mission of the Hebrew people, one must look a little more deeply into the overall development of humanity. It will be necessary here to characterize in somewhat greater detail some of what you can find outlined in my Outline of Esoteric Science and in my lectures. We can best understand the role of the Hebrew people in the overall development of humanity if we take, at least in a few brief, characteristic strokes, as our starting point that great catastrophe in human development which we call the Atlantean catastrophe.

[ 16 ] As the Atlantic catastrophe gradually swept across the Earth, the people who lived on the ancient Atlantic continent at that time migrated from west to east. Essentially, there were two main currents in this migration: one that moved more to the north, and another that took a more southerly route. Thus, we have a great human migration of the Atlantean population that passed through Europe all the way to Asia;; and if one considers the region around the Caspian Sea, one gets a rough idea of how this migration of the Atlantic population gradually spread. Another stream, however, passed through what is now Africa. And over in Asia, a sort of convergence of these two streams then took place, as if two streams were meeting and forming a whirlpool.

[ 17 ] What should now be of primary interest to us is what the outlook—the entire spiritual constitution—of these peoples, or at least of their main masses, was like, having been cast eastward from ancient Atlantis. It was indeed the case that in the early post-Atlantean period, the entire soul constitution was different from what it later became—and especially from what it is today. Among all these masses of people, a more clairvoyant perception of their surroundings still existed. People at that time could still, so to speak, see the spiritual, and even what is seen physically today was perceived in a more spiritual way. Thus, a more clairvoyant form of life and soul existed back then. It is particularly important, however, to note that this clairvoyance of the original post-Atlantean population was, in a certain respect, different from, for example, the clairvoyance of the Atlantean population itself during the actual heyday of Atlantean development. During the heyday of Atlantean development, people’s highly developed clairvoyant abilities were such that they looked into the spiritual world in a pure way, and the revelations from the spiritual world stirred impulses toward goodness within the human soul. And one could even say: Those who were more capable of looking into the spiritual world received a greater impulse toward goodness during this heyday of Atlantean development; and those who could see less received a less intense impulse toward goodness.

[ 18 ] The changes that then took place on Earth, however, were such that, already toward the last third of the Atlantean era—and especially in the post-Atlantean era—it was precisely the positive aspects of the ancient clairvoyance that had gradually faded away more and more. Only those who underwent special training in the initiation centers had preserved the positive aspects of Atlantean clairvoyance. What, on the other hand, had remained of Atlantean clairvoyance in a natural way took on, over time, a character such that one can say: What people saw there very easily led them to perceive precisely the evil, seductive, and tempting forces of existence. Gradually, the clairvoyant human gaze became scarcely strong enough to perceive the good forces. In contrast, humanity retained the ability to perceive evil—that which could be a temptation or a seduction for people. And among certain segments of the post-Atlantean population, a very negative form of clairvoyance had spread—a form of clairvoyance that was, in fact, itself a kind of tempter.

[ 19 ] This decline of the ancient clairvoyant power was accompanied by a flourishing, a gradual development of that sensory perception which we recognize as normal for humanity today. The things that people saw with their eyes in the early post-Atlantean period—and that people see today with their ordinary eyes—were not at all alluring back then, because the soul powers needed to experience them were not yet present. The outward appearances that can so easily turn people into hedonists today—and even if such a sight were the most alluring to people today—did not particularly entice the post-Atlantean human being. On the other hand, it spurred him on when he developed remnants of the old clairvoyance. He could scarcely perceive the good side of the spiritual world anymore, but the Luciferic and Ahrimanic forces exerted a powerful influence on him, so that he saw the forces and powers that could act as tempters and deceivers. Humanity thus perceived the Luciferic and Ahrimanic forces through its ancient, inherited powers of clairvoyance. What mattered now was that the leaders and guides of human evolution—who drew their wisdom for guiding humanity from the mysteries—took steps to ensure that, despite this state of affairs, people would nevertheless move ever more toward goodness and clarity.

[ 20 ] Now, the people who had spread eastward after the Atlantean catastrophe were at very different stages of development. One could say that the farther east one went, the more moral and spiritually advanced the people became. In a certain sense, what took shape as a new world in external perception became increasingly clear; it increasingly had the effect of allowing the grandeur and splendor of the external sensory world to make an impression on people. This was the case the farther one went toward the east. People who lived, for example, in the regions north of present-day India—as far as the Caspian Sea, the Oxus, and the Jaxartes—had particularly strong inclinations in this direction. In this central region of Asia, a multitude of peoples had settled who truly provided the raw material for various ethnic movements that then spread in different directions, including to that people whom we have often characterized in terms of their spiritual worldview: the ancient Indian people.

[ 21 ] In the heart of Asia, among this diverse mix of peoples, the sense of external reality was already highly developed soon after the Atlantean catastrophe—and in some cases even during that time. At the same time, however, the people incarnated in this region still possessed a vivid memory—a kind of recollection—of what they had experienced in the Atlantean world. This was most pronounced among the great mass of people who later migrated southward to India. Although they had a profound appreciation for the splendor of the external world and were the most advanced in observing external sensory perceptions, they also possessed the most highly developed memory of the ancient spiritual perceptions of the Atlantean era. Consequently, this people developed a strong yearning to ascend toward the spiritual world they remembered, and an ease in looking back into the spiritual world—along with a sense that what the external senses presented was maya, or illusion. Hence, the impulse arose among this people not to focus particularly on the external sensory world, but to do everything possible so that the soul—now through artificial development, through yoga—might rise up to what, during the ancient Atlantean era, human beings could experience directly from the spiritual world.

[ 22 ] This tendency to underestimate the external world and view it as maya, or illusion—and to develop only those impulses that lead toward the spiritual—was less pronounced among the segment of the population that remained in northern India. Yet this was a mixed population that found itself in the most tragic of situations. It was inherent in the very nature of the ancient Indian people’s endowment that a person could, with a certain ease, undergo a specific yogic development through which he could ascend once more to the regions in which he had lived during the Atlantean epoch. It was easy for him to overcome what he had to regard as an illusion. He overcame it through insight. For them, the highest realization was this: This sensory world is an illusion, is maya; but if you develop your soul, if you make the effort, then you will reach the world that lies beyond the sensory world! Thus, through an inner process, the Indians overcame what they regarded as maya or illusion—and what they also sought to overcome.

[ 23 ] The situation was different among the northern peoples, who in history came to be called the Aryans in the narrower sense: the Persians, Medes, Bactrians, and so on. Among them, too, there was a strongly developed sense of external perception, of the external intellect. But the inner urge, the impulse to attain through inner development—through a kind of yoga—what the Atlantean human possessed naturally was not particularly strong. The living memory was not sufficiently present among the northern peoples for them to translate it into a striving to overcome the illusion of the external world through knowledge. The spiritual disposition of the Indians was not present among these northern peoples. Among them there was a spiritual disposition in which every member of the Iranian, Persian, or Median peoples felt something that, if we were to express it in today’s terms, would take the following form: If we, as human beings, were once in the spiritual world and experienced and saw spiritual and soul-related phenomena, and have now been transferred into the physical world and stand before a world that we see with our eyes and comprehend with the intellect—which is bound to the brain—then the reason for this does not lie solely within the human being, and what needs to be overcome cannot be overcome solely within the human being; that accomplishes nothing special! — As the Iranian would have said: It is not enough for a change to have taken place within the human being alone; nature and everything on Earth must have changed when the human being descended. Therefore, it is not enough for us humans to leave what is around us as it is and simply say: “It’s all illusion, Maya, and we ourselves ascend into the spiritual world!” Then we do indeed change ourselves, but not what has changed in the entire surrounding world.—That is why he did not say: “Outside, maya spreads; I myself will transcend this maya, achieve the overcoming of maya within myself, and thereby attain the spiritual world!” - No, he said: Human beings belong together with the rest of the surrounding world; they are merely a part of it. So if that which is divine in human beings—and which has descended from divine-spiritual heights—is to be transformed, then it is not enough to merely transform what is within human beings; rather, that which is in our surroundings must also be transformed. - This gave these peoples a particular impetus to actively intervene in the transformation and remaking of the world.

[ 24 ] While in India it was said, “The world has fallen; what it now offers is maya,” to the north of it it was said, “Certainly, the world has fallen; but we must transform it so that it once again becomes spiritual!” — Sensation, the senses of perception, was the fundamental character of the Indian people. This people came to terms with the world by calling sensory perception an illusion or maya. Energy, outward dynamism, and the will to transform what exists in the external natural world—these were the fundamental characteristics of the Iranian people and the other northern peoples. They said: What surrounds us has descended from the Divine; but human beings are called upon to lead it back to the Divine! — What was, in essence, already present in the national character of the Iranians was elevated to the highest level and imbued with the greatest energy by the spiritual leaders who emerged from the Mysteries.

[ 25 ] One can fully understand—even from an external perspective—what took place to the east and south of the Caspian Sea only by comparing it with what occurred further north, that is, in regions bordering present-day Siberia and present-day Russia, extending even into Europe. There were people who had preserved the ancient clairvoyance to a high degree, and among whom, in a certain sense, a balance was maintained between the capacity for ancient spiritual perception and that of sensory observation—the new intellectual thinking. Among them, the ability to look into the spiritual world was still widespread. If one considers the nature of this insight into the spiritual world—which, admittedly, had already descended to a lower level and, among these peoples, was essentially, as we would say today, a lower form of astral clairvoyance—a certain consequence arises for the overall development of humanity. Anyone gifted with this kind of clairvoyance becomes a very specific kind of person. Such a person acquires a certain character disposition. This is particularly evident among those large groups of people who possessed this lower form of clairvoyance as part of their national character. Such a person essentially feels the urge to demand from the natural environment what they need for their livelihood, while doing as little as possible to extract it from nature. After all, they know—just as surely as today’s sensory-oriented human knows—that there are plants, “animals,” and so on, and that there are divine-spiritual beings inherent in all of this; for they see them. They also know that these are the powerful beings who stand behind the physical entities. But he also knows them so well that he demands of them that they sustain his existence—the existence into which they have placed him—without much effort on his part. One could cite many examples that are outward expressions of the mood and disposition of these astral clairvoyants. Only one shall be cited here.

[ 26 ] During this period, which is now important for us to consider, all these peoples—who were endowed with a form of clairvoyance that was in a state of decline— nomadic peoples who, without settling down or establishing permanent dwellings, roamed about as herders; they had no particular attachment to any one place, did not particularly tend to what the earth provided them, and were also readily willing to destroy what was around them if they needed something for their livelihood. But these peoples were not inclined to accomplish anything that would raise the level of culture or reshape the earth.

[ 27 ] This is how the great, the significant contrast arose—one that is perhaps among the most important aspects of post-Atlantean development: the contrast between these more northerly peoples and the Iranian peoples. Among the Iranians, a longing developed to intervene in the events unfolding around them, to settle down, to attain through work what one has as a human being and as humanity—that is, to truly reshape nature through the powers of the human spirit. This was the greatest impulse of the people, especially in this region. And immediately adjacent to this, to the north, came that people who looked into the spiritual world, who were, so to speak, on familiar terms with the spiritual beings, but who did not like to work, were not settled, and had absolutely no interest in advancing cultural work in the physical world.

[ 28 ] This is perhaps the greatest contrast that has emerged externally in the history of the post-Atlantean era, and it is purely a consequence of the different types of soul development. It is the contrast that is also known in external history: the great contrast between Iran and Turan. But the causes are not known. Here we now have the reasons.

[ 29 ] In the north, extending into Siberia: Turan, that mixed multitude of peoples who were endowed to a high degree with the legacy of a lower form of astral clairvoyance; as a result of this life in the spiritual world, they had neither the inclination nor the desire to establish an external culture, but —because these people were of a more passive nature and often even had lower-level magicians and sorcerers among their priests—engaged, particularly where spiritual matters were concerned, in lower-level sorcery, and in some cases even in black magic. To the south of this region lay Iran, those areas where the impulse arose early on to transform, through human spiritual power and using the most primitive means, that which is given to us in the sensory world, so that external cultures might arise in this way.

[ 30 ] This is the great contrast between Iran and Turan. In a beautiful, mythical, and legendary way, it is suggested how the most culturally advanced group of people migrated down from the north into the region we have referred to as Iran. And when the legend of Jamshid—that king who led his peoples southward from the north to Iran—tells us that he received from that god, whom he called Ahura Mazda and who will gradually come to be recognized, a golden dagger with which he was to fulfill his mission on Earth—then we must realize that the golden dagger of King Jamshid, who led his peoples out of the sluggish mass of the Turanians, was given that which is the striving for wisdom bound to the outer human forces—that striving for wisdom which redevelops the forces that had previously fallen into decadence and permeates and interweaves them with what human beings can attain on the physical plane in terms of spiritual power. This golden dagger, acting as a plow, turned the earth, turned the earth into farmland, and brought about humanity’s first, most primitive inventions. It has continued to work—and continues to work to this day—in all that of which people are proud as their cultural achievements. It is significant that King Dschemshid, who descended from Turan into the Iranian regions, received this golden dagger from Ahura Mazdao, which gives humanity the power to shape the outer, sensory world.

[ 31 ] The same entity from whom this golden dagger originates is also the great inspirer of that leader of the Iranian people whom we know as Zarathustra, Zoroaster, or Zerdutsch. And it was Zarathustra who, in ancient times—shortly after the Atlantean catastrophe—imbued that people, who felt the urge to interweave outer culture with human spiritual power, with the treasures he was able to draw from the sacred mysteries. To this end, Zarathustra was to give these peoples—who no longer possessed the ancient Atlantean ability to look into the spiritual world—new perspectives and new hopes regarding the spiritual world. Thus Zarathustra opened the path we have often discussed, through which the peoples were to come to understand that the outer body of sunlight is merely the outer body of a high spiritual being, which he called the “Great Aura,” Ahura Mazdao, in contrast to the small human aura. By this he meant to suggest that this being—though still far removed at present—would one day descend to Earth to unite substantially with the Earth within the course of human history and continue to work in the unfolding of humanity. In this way, Zarathustra pointed these people toward the very same being who later lived in history as the Christ. In doing so, Zarathustra—or Zoroaster—had accomplished something great, something mighty. He had brought about, for the new post-Atlantean humanity—a humanity that had lost its connection to the divine—a return to the spiritual realm and the hope that human beings, even with the forces that had descended onto the physical plane, could nevertheless attain the spiritual. The ancient Indians regained the old spiritual realm in a certain way through yoga practice. But a new path was to be opened to humanity through what Zarathustra brought.

[ 32 ] Zarathustra now had an influential patron. — I would like to emphasize explicitly that I am speaking of Zarathustra as a being whom the Greeks already placed in the time five thousand years before the Trojan War; this figure, therefore, has nothing to do with what external history designates as Zarathustra, nor with what is mentioned as Zarathustra in the time of Darius. The Zarathustra of these ancient times had a protector who can be referred to by the name Gushtasb, which later became common. We thus find in Zarathustra a powerful, priestly nature that points to the great Sun Spirit, to Ahura Mazdao—that being who is to be the guide for humanity back from the external physical realm to the spiritual. And in Gushtasb we find the royal nature of one who was inclined to do everything in the outer realm that could spread Zarathustra’s great inspirations throughout the world. Therefore, it was inevitable that these inspirations and these intentions, which made themselves felt in ancient Iran through Zarathustra and through Gushtasb, would clash with what lay immediately north of this region. And from this clash, one of the greatest wars the world has ever known actually developed—a war about which external history reports very little, because it took place in ancient times. It was a massive clash between Iran and Turan. And out of this war—which lasted not decades, but centuries—a certain mood developed that persisted for a long time in the heart of Asia, a mood that must be put into words something like this:

[ 33 ] The Iranian, the Zarathustrian man, said to himself something like this: Everywhere we look, there is a world that, although it has descended from the divine-spiritual, now appears as a fall from its former heights. We must assume that everything around us—the world of animals, plants, and minerals—was once higher, and that all of this has fallen into decadence. But human beings have the hope of raising it up again. —Let us take an animal, for example. Let us speak in such a way that we translate what lived in the feelings of an Iranian into our own language, and let us speak as, for example, a teacher in school might speak to his students if he wanted to characterize a similar state of mind. Then we could say: Look at what is around you. It used to be more spiritual; now it has descended, has fallen into decadence. Let’s take the wolf, for example. The animal within the wolf—which you see as a sensual being—has degenerated and fallen into decadence. Above all, it used not to reveal its bad qualities. But you—when good qualities begin to sprout within you, when you bring together your good qualities and spiritual powers—you can tame the animal. You can weave your own qualities into it. Then you can turn the wolf into a tame dog that serves you! There, in the wolf and the dog, you have two beings that, as it were, characterize two world currents. - The people who used their spiritual powers to shape their environment were able to tame the animals and raise them to a higher level, while the others, who did not use their powers for this purpose, left the animals as they were, so that they were bound to sink deeper and deeper. These are two different forces. One is expressed in the attitude: If I leave nature as it is, it will sink deeper and deeper, and everything will become wild. The other: But if I direct my spiritual eyes toward a benevolent power—of which I am a believer—then it helps me; then, with its help, I can lift back up what is striving to sink down. This power, to which I can look up, can give me hope for further development!—For the Iranians, this power was identified with Ahura Mazdao, and they said to themselves: Everything a person can do to ennoble the forces of nature, to lift them up, can happen when a person unites with Ahura Mazda, with the power of Ormuzd. Ormuzd is an upward-moving current. But if a person leaves nature as it is, then one can see how everything drifts into savagery. That comes from Ahriman! — And now the following sentiment developed in the Iranian region: To the north of us, many people are roaming about. They are in the service of Ahriman. These are the followers of Ahriman, who merely roam the world and take only what nature offers them, who do not want to lend a hand to spiritualize nature. But we want to ally ourselves with Ormuzd, with Ahura Mazdao!

[ 34 ] This is how people in the world perceived the duality that arose. This is how the Iranian people—the people of Zarathustra—felt, and what they felt in this way, they also expressed in their laws. They wanted to organize their lives in such a way that the outward legislation would express the upward striving. That was the outward consequence of Zarathustrianism. Thus, we must address the contrast between Iran and Turan. And that war, about which occult history reports so much and in such detail—the war between Arjasb and Gushtasb, one of whom was the king of the Turanians and the other the protector of Zarathustra—we must see this war, as a contrast between North and South, continuing as a mood in the two regions of Iran and Turan. Once we understand this, we will see a certain flow of the soul emanating from Zarathustra to all of humanity, upon whom he has exerted his influence.

[ 35 ] First, it was necessary to describe the nature of the entire milieu, the entire environment in which Zarathustra was placed. For we know, after all, that the individuality which incarnated itself into the blood that flowed down from Abraham through three times fourteen generations—and which appears in the Gospel of Matthew as Jesus of Nazareth—was the Zarathustra individuality. We had to seek it out first where it first appears to us in the post-Atlantean epoch. And now the question arises for us: Why was it precisely the blood that flowed down through the generations from Abraham in the Near East that was best suited for a later incarnation of Zarathustra? For one of Zarathustra’s subsequent incarnations is Jesus of Nazareth.

[ 36 ] In order for this second question to be raised, it was necessary first to raise and answer the question of the center—that center which finds expression in this blood. In the individuality of Zarathustra, we have this center, which incarnates itself into the blood of the Hebrew people. Tomorrow we will discuss why it had to be precisely this blood, this people, from which Zarathustra took his outer physical form.