The Rudolf Steiner Archive

13. Christmas through the Ages

[ 1 ] When we go out into the streets of our great cities at this time of year, we find those streets filled with what our contemporaries wish to acquire to celebrate the festival we are approaching—one of the great festivals that humanity can observe in the course of a year: the commemoration of the most powerful impetus in the development of humanity. And yet, if we allow ourselves today to reflect on what is to take place in the coming days in a large city such as this one, where we now find ourselves, to mark this commemoration—if we ask ourselves whether it corresponds to what should move through people’s souls and hearts—if we do not indulge in any illusions but simply look the truth in the eye—then perhaps we cannot help but admit: How little do all the preparations we see, and perhaps even the way we observe Christmas, fit in, on the one hand, with everything else going on around us in modern culture, and how little, on the other hand, does it fit with all that should, in fact, live in the deepest heart of every human being as a memory and a thought of the greatest impulse that humanity could have received in the course of its development.

[ 2 ] It is perhaps no exaggeration to say: After all, not everything appears so harmonious to our eyes, which long to be imbued with the Christmas spirit—which long to receive this Christmas spirit from what they can see in our surroundings today—not everything appears harmonious when our vehicles race right through the avenues lined with Christmas trees and other preparations for the holiday. And if people today perhaps no longer fully perceive this disharmony, it is because they have already grown too unaccustomed to feeling all the depth and intimacy that can be associated with the approaching festival. What remains for city dwellers, in particular, of all that deepens the human spirit about Christmas is, when it comes down to it, nothing more than a faint echo—barely hinting at its former grandeur—a habit in which the greatness can no longer be perceived, a habit to which humanity had become accustomed over the course of centuries.

[ 3 ] It would be entirely misguided to view the situation with a pessimistic outlook, noting that times have changed and that it is impossible in today’s large cities to cultivate the deep sense of intimacy during this festival that once existed. It would not be right to allow such a pessimistic mood to take hold when, at the same time—as should be the case in this circle—one can have a sense of how humanity can once again attain the full depth and grandeur of that impulse which should be felt precisely during this festival. Seeking souls have every reason to ask themselves: What can this Christmas festival mean to us? — And they may admit to themselves in their hearts: It is precisely through Spiritual Science that something will once again be given to all of humanity—something that, in the fullest sense of the word, will bring back what can no longer exist today, and which we must admit can no longer exist unless we wish to lull ourselves into illusions and fantasies and regard what has in many cases become a mere festival of gifts as equivalent to what the Christmas festival, the Christmas festival has been to people for centuries: a festival whose observance caused joy in hope, certainty of hope, and the awareness of belonging to a spiritual being—one who has descended from spiritual heights and united with the Earth—to blossom forth from the souls, so that every willing human soul may share in them.

[ 4 ] For centuries, a festival was celebrated that awakened in people’s souls the awareness that the individual human soul possesses a steadfast power within the spiritual force just described, and that all people who are willing can come together in service to this spiritual power—and can unite in this service in such a way that they also find the right paths on Earth to become as fully human as possible, and to love one another as fully as possible as human beings on Earth.

[ 5 ] If, as might seem appropriate, one wishes to let the comparison sink into one’s soul—between what Christmas has been throughout the centuries, and what it is meant to become again, it may well be worthwhile, on the one hand, to compare the mood that prevails today—due to the cultural demands of the present—in the circles around us with what Christmas once was, and, on the other hand, with what can once again become a kind of timeless renewal of this festival in our souls through Spiritual Science.

[ 6 ] It is hardly possible anymore for today’s city dwellers to fully appreciate, in all its depth, the significance of our major annual celebrations. It is hardly possible to feel that magic which, like a spiritual breeze, swept through the souls and minds of those who believed they carried Christ in their hearts during the great festive celebrations around Christmas or Easter. To feel this magic, which swept through humanity like a spiritual breeze in those times, has become quite, quite difficult today—especially for city dwellers. For those who have still had the opportunity to catch even a glimpse of this magical breeze that was able to sweep through souls and minds in such times, this will certainly be a wonderful, a glorious memory. As a child, I myself was able to glimpse only the last remnants of what, in the villages of German regions, could sweep through souls and minds as such a magical breeze—to see how, as Christmas approached, something truly arose in the deepest inner life of both young and old that differed from the sensations and feelings that were otherwise present throughout the year. Just a few decades ago, as Christmas approached, one could still feel this very thing quite clearly in farming villages, where souls naturally adorned themselves from within and truly felt something like this: During the fall, the physical sunlight has descended into the deepest darkness of night, and the outer physical darkness has increased. The nights have grown long, and the days have grown short. We have to spend a lot of time sitting in our living rooms. Whereas in other seasons we would go out into the fields and feel the golden rays of the morning sun meeting us, feel the warming sun, and move our hands freely during the long days of summer, we now have to spend a lot of time sitting indoors; we have to be very much darkness all around us, and often look out the windows to see the earth covered in its winter cloak.

[ 7 ] It is impossible to describe in detail all that was beautiful and wondrous about the moods that arose in even the humblest farmhouses on Sunday afternoons and evenings as the Christmas season approached, for one would have to describe the most intimate inner feelings. One would have to describe how many a person—who had spent a good part of the rest of the year brawling and getting into all sorts of mischief—felt, as if by nature, a sense of restraint in his soul simply by being filled with the thought: “Christmas is approaching.” He felt: “The season itself becomes too holy to allow for mischief during this time.”

[ 8 ] This is just a small glimpse of what was once widespread centuries ago, and what could still be seen as a last remnant in the villages decades ago. There, once the family Christmas celebration had already moved indoors, one could see how, at most, a replica of the small manger scene from the stable in Bethlehem had been set up in the homes, and how the children delighted in everything associated with it when they saw Joseph and Mary, the shepherds in front, and the angels above—sometimes depicted in a rather primitive manner. And such a replica of the nativity scene could be found in almost every home in certain villages.

[ 9 ] More or less, what had retreated into the houses there was already the last echo of something else that we will discuss later. But a few decades ago, once the main Christmas days—December 25 and 26—had passed and the Feast of the Epiphany was approaching, one could still see groups of performers parading through the villages—the last reenactors of the Nativity story. The actual Christmas plays had already become quite rare, but one could still often see a final echo of the Feast of the Epiphany play—perhaps even today in remote villages. There, dressed in various strange costumes, with paper crowns and a star on their heads, were the Three Kings, who paraded through the village and, with their simple voices—rarely without humor, but rather both sacred and humorous at the same time—proclaimed everything that souls were meant to feel, drawing on what the Bible says about the great Christ impulse in human evolution.

[ 10 ] This is the essence of it: that especially during this Christmas season and in the days and weeks surrounding it, the atmosphere was one in which hearts were overflowing and in which they were able to take in everything that was presented to their souls in a simple, direct manner—an atmosphere in which the entire village participated. Such grotesque, comedic reenactments of sacred scenes—as have become common in modern times in imitation of the Oberammergau Passion Plays—would have been incomprehensible back then, when the memory and the thought of humanity’s great eras were still alive. For it would have been impossible at any other time to experience the events of Holy Christmas and the Feast of the Epiphany other than precisely during these days of the year, and impossible to experience the Passion narrative at any other time than at Easter. People felt at one with what spoke from the stars, from the weeks, from the season, from the snow and sunshine, and one let oneself be told of what one wanted and ought to feel by the “carolers”—who were now dressed simply in white smocks and walked about with paper crowns on their heads—one of whom carried a star attached to a pair of scissors, so that he was able to send that star flying far away. There they walked through the villages, stopped in front of the houses, and offered their simple gifts. And all that mattered was that, at this very time and with hearts in just the right frame of mind, people were able to receive what was meant to penetrate the souls of people at this very time.

[ 11 ] For me, what I heard many a time in the villages—such as the simple poems recited by the “carolers” as they made their way through the villages—is, after all, a fond memory. For example, the following:

The Oberschützen Carolers

In God’s name, let us begin
The holy kings from the East,
They ride here in great haste
Four hundred miles in thirteen days.
They ride up to Herod’s house
(Herod looks out the window.)
Herod said: “Where are you going?”
“Our destination is Bethlehem,”
“You three holy kings, come in to me,
I’ll give you plenty of wine and beer.”
I’ll give you roast venison and fish,
show me the newborn King for certain.
Truly, we cannot say,
we must follow the star once more.
The star [the star] shines brightly over the house,
[the saints] are surely heading beyond the mountain.
There they found our Lord Jesus Christ
who is the Savior of the whole world. — —
Why, then, is the one in the back so dark? - —
He is a king from the land of the Moors. —

[ 12 ] These kinds of events were such that the entire village took part. When a certain line was reached, for example, the star was carried far ahead. It was this Christmas or Epiphany star that expressed the harmony between the season, the festive time, and people’s hearts. That was the great thing that, over the centuries, spread across a vast expanse of our entire earth like a magical breath into the simplest of minds. We must bring this to mind just a little, and we can do so especially as seekers of spiritual knowledge, because over the years in which we have been able to contemplate this great event, we have been able to regain a sense of the real power it holds for all people and for the entire development of the Earth—the very power that is to be remembered during this festive season.

[ 13 ] Thus, we may believe we are gaining some understanding of how, in those earlier times, the entire Christmas season—particularly among the peoples of the various German and Eastern European regions—was actually steeped in festive celebration, and how such festive celebration could be achieved with the simplest of means. But perhaps today only those on a spiritual quest can understand what the essence of the old Christmas plays was. What I have just described to you as the “Song of the Star” is merely a final ruin, a last remnant. If we were to go back through the centuries, we would find that, as this time of year approached, Christmas plays were performed across vast regions, with entire villages participating in what was being enacted. We may well say: With regard to these things, with regard to our knowledge of the Christmas plays, we have really only been able to act as collectors of what is now passing away. — I myself, who had the good fortune to have such a collector among my old friends, heard him recount many a story about what he, as a learned collector of Christmas plays, had encountered, particularly in German-Hungarian regions.

[ 14 ] In those German-speaking enclaves of Hungary where, prior to the period of Magyarization in the 1850s and 1860s, the German mother tongue and colloquial German had been preserved, many Christmas plays and customs continued to flourish—traditions that had long since been swept away into the currents of oblivion in the main regions of the German motherland. The individual settlers who had immigrated to the Slavic regions over the course of previous centuries preserved their old Christmas plays and revived them whenever the right people—who were always drawn from among the villagers—could be found to perform them. I still remember well—and perhaps you will concede that I am qualified to judge such matters—the enthusiasm with which old Schröer spoke of such Christmas plays when he recounted how he had been present when the people celebrated their Christmas plays during this festive season. One only begins to grasp—so to speak, and this is no exaggeration—the innermost essence of art when one goes to these villagers and sees how they gave birth to the simple art of the Christmas play out of the holiest of moods. The people who today believe they can learn to declaim from this or that teacher, who today run here and there to do this or that breathing exercise—which are the “right” ones—for there are, after all, many dozen “right” methods of breathing for singing or declamation—these people believe that it all comes down to turning the human body or the larynx into a well-oiled machine in order to cultivate some art in a materialistic way. I only hope that this curious view will never truly take root in our circles, for these people have no idea how, out of the holiest of moods, out of a Christmas spirit of prayer, a simple yet genuine art was born and expressed with the deepest Christian sentiment in the souls and hearts of village boys, who often played rather frivolous and mischievous pranks throughout the year. For these simple people living under their thatched roofs knew infinitely more about the connection between the human soul, the whole person, and art than is known today in our modern theaters or other artistic endeavors—even though so much fuss is still made about the idea that art is something that must spring from the whole person, and, if it is sacred art, from the sacred, devout spirit of the human being.

[ 15 ] You can see this, for example, from the four main regulations that were in effect in areas Schröer was still able to visit.

[ 16 ] When Christmas plays were performed in parts of Upper Hungary, as October or November approached, the person who possessed the Christmas plays—which had been passed down orally and never written down, since writing them down was considered a desecration—would gather together those people he deemed suitable. And during this Christmas season, people whom one might not otherwise have expected were indeed suitable: loose, good-for-nothing lads who had already gotten up to their fair share of all sorts of mischief throughout the year. During this time, however, the necessary spirit settled into their souls. There were strict rules for the participants in the Christmas plays during the weeks-long rehearsal period. Anyone who wanted to take part had to strictly observe the following four rules. To understand this, of course, one must put oneself in the context of village life and consider what it meant in that setting to be barred from participating in such an event.

[ 17 ] “Anyone who wants to play must 1. not go to work as a servant, 2. not sing any bawdy songs during the entire holy season, 3. lead an honorable life, 4. follow me. There is a fine for everything, including any memory lapses and the like during the play.”

[ 18 ] Doesn’t this custom strike you as somewhat reminiscent of that awareness that existed in the sacred sites of the ancient mysteries, where it was also not believed that one could attain wisdom through ordinary education? Here, too, there prevailed the awareness that the whole person—with their mind and moral character—must be purified and cleansed if they are to approach art in a worthy manner. Such things were to spring from the whole person. And the Christmas spirit brought about a state of affairs in which even the most wayward boys could be devout.

[ 19 ] What I have just mentioned to you—the Christmas plays that Schröer and others were able to collect, which were performed as the last remnants of old plays—are now nothing more than ruins. But in doing so, we look back to even earlier times: to the 16th, 15th, 14th centuries and so on, when conditions between villages and towns were quite different; when, in fact, the spirits of the villagers were immersed in a completely different mood during this Christmas season through what the plays could offer them; when, with the simplest, most primitive means, the sacred legend—the birth of Christ—was portrayed, along with all that is biblically associated with it. And just as Christmas Day, December 25, is preceded in the calendar by the Feast of Adam and Eve, so the play that was regarded as the actual Christmas play was usually preceded by the so-called “Paradise Play”—the play depicting Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden as they fell prey to the devil, the serpent. Even in the most remote regions, people were able to gain direct insight into the connection that exists between humanity’s descent from spiritual heights into the sphere of the physical plane, and that jolt that humanity received through the Christ impulse, propelling it back up into the spiritual worlds.

[ 20 ] When a person reads the Epistles of Paul and senses the grandeur of the Pauline conception of humanity—of the human being who, in Adam, descended from the spiritual world into the sensory world, and of the “new Adam,” Christ, in whom humanity ascends once more from the sensory world into the spiritual—when a person can perceive and feel this in Paul in such a magnificent way —in an intimate, loving, and heartfelt way, even the simplest people, right down to the children, could feel it in the depths of their hearts, in the depths of their souls, when, one after another, they were presented with the Paradise Play of Adam and Eve, the Fall of Man, and the revelation of Christ in the Christmas Play. And deeply, deeply had people sensed the tremendous turning point that had been brought about in human evolution by the Christ event. A reversal of the path of evolution—that is how the Christ event was perceived. The path from Adam to Christ was, so to speak, a path from heaven to earth. A path from Earth to heaven is the path from Christ to the end of the earthly era. This was felt in the most profound way when these two plays—briefly described here—were presented in a primitive form before the eyes of thousands upon thousands of people. For people truly sensed the complete renewal of the human spirit through the Christ impulse.

[ 21 ] One might perhaps also sense in this something of an echo of what one felt regarding this reversal of all human progress in those words that date back to ancient, ancient times—to the early Christian centuries—and that were spoken time and again, even in the 8th, 9th, 10th centuries in regions where Christianity had spread, particularly within Europe. People sensed something immense in words such as the following:

Ave maris stella
Dei mater alma
Atque semper virgo
Felix coeli porta.
Sumens illud Ave
Gabrielis ore
Funda nos in pace
Mutans nomen Evae!

[ 22 ] When these words were spoken, one sensed humanity’s journey from heaven to earth through the Fall, and humanity’s ascent through Christ from earth to heaven; and one sensed this in the two female figures, in “Eve” and in the name given to the Mother of Jesus—the name with which she was, so to speak, greeted: “Ave.” “Ave” is the reversal of the name “Eve”; if you read “Ave” backward, you get “Eve.” This was felt in its fullest significance. Hence these words, which reveal both what was felt within the most elemental natural phenomena and, at the same time, what was seen as human in the legend:

Hail, Star of the Sea,
Divine Young Mother
And eternal Virgin,
You, the blessed gate of heaven.
Receiving that “Hail Mary”
As a gift from Gabriel,
You became for us the foundation of peace,
By reversing
The name of Eve!

[ 23 ] In such simple words, the greatest mysteries, the greatest secrets of human development, were perceived. And in the reversal of the name “Eve” to “Ave,” everyone intuitively sensed what can be gleaned in a magnificent way from the Epistles of Paul when one reads the passages about Adam, the “old” Adam, and Christ, the “new” Adam. This mood was present when, during the days of the Christmas festival, the “Paradise Play”—which depicted the Fall—and the “Christmas Play”—which depicted the hope that every human soul can have for the future if it takes in the power inherent in the Christ impulse—were performed one after the other in a primitive style. But to be able to feel this requires a state of mind of which we must simply realize that it can no longer exist in this form today. Times have changed. Such an inability to look toward the spiritual worlds—as exists today among both the most primitive and the most intelligent segments of the population—and such a fundamentally materialistic element in the human mind certainly did not exist back then. Taking the spiritual world for granted was a matter of course. And a certain understanding of this spiritual world, in its distinction from the sensory world, was likewise a matter of course. People today have little concept of how one could feel spiritually well into the 15th and 16th centuries, and how, fundamentally, an awareness of spirituality was present everywhere. If the revival of one of the Christmas plays—specifically, an Upper Palatinate Christmas play—scheduled to be staged in our two art rooms is successful, then perhaps even outside our circles an appreciation can be reawakened for the spiritual atmosphere contained within it. For us, this or that line from just such a Christmas play should become a hallmark of the spiritual meaning that was present among those who were meant to understand this Christmas play during the festive season. For example, if in this or that Christmas play Mary, awaiting the Christ Child, says: “The time has come; I see a little child”—that is, in the days leading up to the birth, she clairvoyantly beheld a vision of the approaching child, as is the case in many Christmas plays—then I ask: where can you find a similar narrative today on the same occasion? The times of connection with the spiritual world, as it was still consciously present back then, no longer exist. One should not indulge in either an optimistic or a pessimistic attitude regarding this. Today, one must go very far out into the most primitive rural areas if one wants to find the vision of the child who is “to come in a few days.” Such things still exist.

[ 24 ] Of course, it was only in such a mood that one could truly immerse oneself in what these primitive memories and thoughts conveyed about the greatest event in human development—the Christmas season. Therefore, we must find it entirely understandable that in place of that earlier poetry, that simple, primitive art, the prose of today’s electric railroads and automobiles has taken its place, whizzing by in such a grotesque manner between the rows of Christmas trees. It is impossible for an aesthetically sensitive eye to see these two things together: Christmas trees, Christmas markets—and automobiles and electric trains driving through them! What is impossible is, of course, taken for granted today, but for the aesthetically sensitive eye, it remains nonetheless an impossibility. Nevertheless, let us be friends, not enemies, of culture and understand that it must be taken for granted.

[ 25 ] But we also want to understand how this relates to the materialistic trend that has permeated everyone’s minds—not just those of city dwellers, but also of the rural population. Oh, we can sense it—that materialistic mood—as it creeps into people’s minds. Go back to the 14th and 13th centuries, and you’ll find that people fully understood that they were referring to something spiritual when, for example, they spoke of the Tree of Knowledge in Paradise. They understood in the proper way what was being depicted to them in the “Paradise Play,” and knew how to relate it spiritually to the true meaning of what was portrayed as the Tree of Knowledge or the Tree of Life. For superstition was by no means as widespread in those times as it later became in the 15th, 16th, and 17th centuries. In contrast, as early as the 15th century—for example, in the Bamberg region, as can be historically verified—we find that people would go out into the apple orchards at Christmas because they physically and materially expected a specially chosen apple tree to bloom at Christmas. The entire emotional life of people became materialistic during the era spanning from the 13th and 14th centuries through the 16th and 17th centuries—not only in the cities, but also in the souls of those who were simple villagers.

[ 26 ] Much of what once constituted the poetry of old has crept into homes with their Christmas trees. But what once swept through the villages like a mystery in the holiest of atmospheres has become mere outward poetry—the poetry of the Christmas tree, which, though still beautiful, is merely an echo of something greater. Why is this so? Because humanity must undergo a process of development over the course of time, because what is intimate, great, and significant in one era cannot remain the same for all time. For anyone who would try to carry over into other eras what is great for a particular time would be an enemy of humanity’s development. Every age has its own particular tasks, and in every age one must understand how to breathe new life into what is meant to penetrate the souls and hearts of people. Our age can certainly immerse itself in those true Christmas spirits—which we have been able to describe in a suggestive way—only as in a historical memory, as in a fragment of the past. But when we do bring the symbol of the Christmas tree into our festive gatherings, we do so precisely because we associate the idea of a new Christmas spirit for humanity—for advanced humanity—with anthroposophical Spiritual Science itself. For Spiritual Science is meant to instill the mysteries of Christ into the hearts and souls of people in a way that is appropriate to our time. Even though today’s modes of transportation rush past us when we step outside our doors, or may even carry us off into the skies—soon these things will lead humanity to the most sober, the most dreadful prose— nevertheless, people of the present day must have the opportunity to rediscover, precisely through an all the more profound and meaningful deepening of their souls, the divine-spiritual that could appear so simply before the eyes of the primitive minds of bygone centuries when they saw the holy Child in the manger at Christmas time. Today we need other means to evoke this mood in the soul. We certainly like to immerse ourselves in what the ancients had in order to find the paths to the Christ event, but we must also be independent of time. The way the people of antiquity felt themselves completely immersed in the mysteries of nature was possible only in a primitive age. Today we need other means.

[ 27 ] I would just like to give you a sense of how people used to attune themselves to nature as Christmas approached—attuning themselves in a very primitive way, yet speaking from the depths of their hearts with such richness, drawn from their experience of the elements of nature. Perhaps, if I may share another short carol with you, you will truly feel—in just one passage—how the elements of nature spoke from the soul. The rest is rather primitive. But if you listen more closely, you will sense that natural mood in even more of it.

[ 28 ] For when the person in charge of gathering his actors for the Christmas play or the Epiphany play went with them, and when they performed here or there, they would first greet those who had gathered, because that detached atmosphere that prevails today between performers and spectators did not exist in the past. People belonged together, and the whole occasion was steeped in a shared atmosphere. Therefore, the performers took the stage in such a way that they greeted those who were present—and even those who were not—in a simple, heartfelt manner. That truly created a Christmas spirit.

The carolers say:

We, my dear singers, have gathered closely together
Just like the crabs in a pan.
We, my dear singers, have come together in a circle,
We want to chase away our sorrows with our singing.
We, my singers, bravely begin.
We’ll start by offering our greetings.
We greet God the Father on His highest throne
And we also greet His only Son;
We also greet the Holy Spirit by name
And let’s greet all three of them together.

Joseph and Mary come onto the stage.

Let’s greet Joseph and Mary warmly,
And let’s greet the little child.
Let’s also greet the ox and the donkey,
Who stand by the little manger.
Let’s greet them through the sun and moonlight,
Which shine over the sea and across the Rhine.
Let’s greet them through leaves and grass,
The holy rain wets us and all of them.
Let’s greet the emperor with his crown,
Let’s greet the master who can’t do it.
Let’s also greet the clergymen,
Since they’ve allowed us to learn this play.
Let’s greet the honorable judge with his entourage,
For they are worthy of honor.
And let’s greet the entire distinguished assembly,
All of you gathered here.
Let’s greet the entire distinguished council,
As God has ordained it.
Let us greet them with every kind of spice,
As many as there are on earth.
My dear singers, let us begin anew,
For we wish to raise our voices to greet the star.
Let us greet our star pole,
On which our star hangs.
Let us greet our constellation,
In which our star travels among others,
Let us also greet all the little trees,
As many as there are in the constellation. —
My dear singers, you’ve surely heard me say,
That we’ve begun to sing of the star.
Let’s give a warm greeting to our master singer,
And let’s greet the master singer’s hat.
Let’s also greet our teacher in his work,
For he has taught us with God’s help.
My dear ones, you have surely heard me sing,
That we have sung all of this.

[ 29 ] Now I ask you to consider what it means to invoke nature in such a way that you greet everyone you wish to greet with such a feeling in your heart—a feeling that emanates from “all the little herbs, as many as there are on earth”! This is empathizing with the very spirit of nature itself. Thus, one must recognize how, in those days, human beings were connected to all that was holy, to all that was great and spiritual, right down to the roots of the grasses and trees. Anyone who can empathize with this will sense, in a line such as the one just mentioned, something magnificent in the mysteries of human development. The times when this was natural, when it was taken for granted, are now past, and today we need other means. We need, so to speak, means that lead us to an even deeper source of human nature—to that source of human nature which, in a certain sense, is independent of external time. For culture itself, as it unfolds today, makes it impossible for us to remain closely attuned to the seasons. Therefore, anyone who truly understands that mood—which in ancient times was experienced as the Christ mood during the holy Christmas season—will also have an understanding of what we seek: to artistically deepen what we can gain from Spiritual Science, and to strive to revive within human hearts that source capable of receiving the Christ impulse.

[ 30 ] At Christmas time, we can no longer directly evoke the Great One, no matter how much we might wish to awaken this impulse in our souls at this very time; yet we are always seeking it. And when we ourselves see in what anthroposophical Spiritual Science is meant to be for humanity a Christian celebration of this human progress, and when we look to what the simple person could feel when, at the holy Christmas, the little Child in the manger was presented to him, then we say to ourselves: Such moods, such feelings should awaken within us when we look toward what can be born in our soul at that moment when spiritual knowledge so sanctifies and purifies our innermost source that it can receive within itself the sacred mystery of the Christ impulse,

[ 31 ] From this perspective, we also seek once more to find the true art that springs from the spiritual realm—that art which can be nothing other than a child of piety, a child of the most sacred feelings. When, in this regard, we feel the eternal, imperishable Christian festival of humanity—how that Christ impulse can be born within the human being, within the human soul, within the human heart—when, through Spiritual Science, we experience anew how this Christ impulse is something real, something that can truly pour itself into our souls and hearts as a living force— then, through Spiritual Science, the Christ impulse will not remain an abstraction or a dogma for us; rather, this Christ impulse, arising from our spiritual movement, will become something that can give us comfort in the worst moments of our lives, something that can fill us with joy in the hope that, when Christ is born in our soul—at this soul’s Christmas— we may look forward to Easter, the resurrection of the spirit within ourselves.

[ 32 ] Thus, we must move from the material—which has permeated every mind and every heart—back toward the spiritual. For it is from the spirit alone that the renewal necessary to counter what life is like today can be born. Will it be possible—even when cars are driving by outside, perhaps balloons are floating through the air, and electric trains are whizzing by— will it then be possible for something of a sacred atmosphere to pervade rooms such as these, an atmosphere that can, of course, only be absorbed through what flows to us throughout the year from spiritual knowledge—bringing us closer to Christ—and which in earlier times was allowed to come alive in a much more childlike spirit? Then there is hope that, in a certain sense, these meeting rooms will be “nativity scenes” that we can gaze upon in a similar way to how children and adults on Christmas Eve—when the nativity scene was set up in the home, or in the past, in the church—would look upon the little Child, the shepherds before Him, and the “ox and little donkey, standing by the little manger.” There they felt that from this symbol, strength flowed into their hearts—strength for all hope, for all love of humanity, for all human greatness, for all earthly goals.

[ 33 ] If, on this day—which is to be consecrated and dedicated to the remembrance of the Christ impulse—we can feel that something has been kindled in our hearts throughout the entire year through our earnest striving in Spiritual Science, then on this day our hearts will feel: These are manger scenes—our places of gathering—and these lights are the symbols! These manger scenes, through the sacred atmosphere within them, and these lights, through the symbolism of their radiance, contain what—like the Christmas season and the Easter season—is meant to prepare a great time for humanity: the resurrection of the most sacred Spirit, of true spiritual life! Let us try to feel that our gathering places at Christmas time are mangers, places where, shut off from the outside world, something great is being prepared; let us learn to feel—as we diligently study throughout the year—that our insights and our wisdom can converge on this Christmas Eve into fervent emotions that blaze like a fire from the fuel we have gathered throughout the year through our immersion in great teachings. And when we feel that in doing so we are honoring the memory of the greatest impulse in human development, we feel how, for this reason, faith may live on in these places—the belief that one day what burns in such a cramped manger as a sacred fire and a light of certain hope will reach out to all of humanity. Then it will be strong enough, powerful enough to penetrate, ignite, warm, and illuminate even the harshest, most sober prose of life. Then we can experience the Christmas spirit here as a spirit of hope for that universal Easter spirit, which is the expression of the living spirit that is essential to the new humanity.

[ 34 ] The best way to celebrate Christmas in our souls is to fill the coming days with this spirit—to fill them in such a way that, through our celebration of Christmas, we spiritually prepare for the “Easter of Humanity,” the resurrection of spiritual life. Yes, our workplaces should become nativity scenes during the Christmas season. The Child of Light is to be born, kindled throughout the entire year through immersion in the wisdom of Spiritual Science. May the Christian be born in the human soul within our workplaces, so that spiritual life may rise again for the great Easter season of humanity—a season in which humanity must experience spirituality in its very essence as a resurrection through the outflow of the Christmas spirit from our spaces into the general humanity of the present and the future.