The Rudolf Steiner Archive

First Lecture

[ 1 ] As you are aware, we had to begin our festive season with a cancellation this time. To my great regret, we were unable to stage what had been planned—the performance of The Guardian of Souls by our esteemed Edouard Schuré—during this season. We had to postpone this performance for a variety of reasons. This was, in a certain sense, regrettable, because precisely in our times, precisely in our present, it might have seemed important to bring the meaning and significance of this work by our esteemed Edouard Schuré before our souls. For in this work, certain currents and waves of human development are given outward physical expression, which can make much understandable in the often so shattering events of the present that pass before our souls, without it actually being possible, with the understanding currently developing on the physical plane—namely in Western Europe—to interpret the deeper underlying causes of these events.

[ 2 ] It is indeed striking, upon deeper reflection, how profoundly significant events are, so to speak, shaking the Folk-souls in Eastern Europe, how much is taking place there that can only be explained if one takes into account the waves of change unfolding beneath the surface of the physical-sensory world in the life of the peoples. It is, to a certain extent, remarkable how little Western European intellectual thought actually even considers bringing the deeper foundations of these earth-shaking events to the understanding of the heart and soul. And here, through the immediate impressions of the present, one might say it seems karmically inevitable to witness a drama unfolding before the soul’s gaze, one that brings the contradictions within the Folk-souls to the surface.

[ 3 ] It would have been particularly appealing—not only from an aesthetic standpoint, but also in terms of understanding much of what is happening in our time—to have before the eye of the soul the contrast that might have emerged in “Seelenhüterin,” the contrast between what remains in Western Europe as an influence, as an impulse, from the ancient Celtic Folk-souls—and what confronts us in some of the characters in this drama—and the truly Romance-French element, which would then have presented itself to our soul in another group of the drama’s characters; and if one could have further perceived how waves, unfolding in the occult, play their part in human life, expressing themselves outwardly in the life of the senses. For in this drama we see how, through certain events, a kind of untruth spreads in the sensory world, so that the relationships existing between the characters express this untruth, and how, from the depths of the soul life—in this case, from what plays out in the mysteries of the blood—truth then pours out to a certain degree into the untruthful relationships of the sensory world. We would have expressed all of this in this drama for the soul’s eye. And it is important in our time to allow such things to take effect on the soul, when events are unfolding before our very eyes within Europe itself, into which the forces of the national psyche reigning beneath the surface truly penetrate, and which cannot be understood without directing the gaze of the soul toward these national psyches.

[ 4 ] What is unfolding in external life—what is it, fundamentally speaking, other than something that—as if karmically surging into this external life—seized the hearts and minds of the people in our European East and Southeast many centuries ago? One could say: Inaudible to the outer world, karmic events are now unfolding that are connected to what is expressed only symptomatically on the physical plane—actually, in four syllables on the physical plane. What is now finding karmic expression was prepared when that famous and much-disputed “filioque” struck the European collective consciousness, splitting and fracturing it into East and West. — What, after all, does our present mindset, with its understanding, have to do with what once divided the West and East of Europe—whether what is called the Holy Spirit proceeds only from the Father, as the East claims, or also from the Son, as the West says? There are good reasons why, at that time, the West added that “filioque” to the procession of the Holy Spirit from the Father, for all the forces that developed in Western Europe—which provided the impetus for European culture—are connected to this. We are not concerned here with all the theological squabbling that has arisen over this creed in the various confessions of faith. But what is important for us is that the spiritual process was once expressed by the fact that the unified creed split into one that states that the Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son, while the other holds that the Spirit proceeds only from the Father. This expresses what continues to influence our times, what surges and beats in the depths and can only be understood if one engages a little with the mysterious workings of the occult depths in the Folk-souls. When the Carolingian sword asserted itself from the West toward the East—it was not the Papal Church that did so, but the Carolingian sword—the creed that the Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son laid the foundation in European culture for what we now see surging up again in powerful and shattering waves. Thus, a deeper immersion in this drama could have shed some light on the events of the present.

[ 5 ] Well, the decisive factor in postponing this performance was ultimately a circumstance that is quite gratifying from another perspective: so many people have registered for our performances that, for the plays “The Guardian of the Threshold” and “The Awakening of the Soul”—as our latest play is now titled—we would have had to turn away many of our friends if we had wanted to stick to our original schedule. Perhaps, without this circumstance, the original program could still have been carried out. Everything had progressed to the point where, for example, all the sets are completely ready, and all the costumes are also fully prepared. And if, as I said, the circumstance just mentioned had not arisen, we could have considered staging this third play as well. However, we would have had to exclude a number of our friends from participating in the festive performances during this time. And it is, of course, more acceptable to postpone one of the plays than to exclude our friends who wish to participate from the performances that are taking place.

[ 6 ] What we would have gained from the mental image of this drama is also connected to the fact that this drama is a work by our highly esteemed Edouard Schuré. And when we utter this name, we must bear in mind that it belongs to the man who, through his Les Grands Initiés, “Les Grands Initiés,” and through his other works, is in a certain sense the foremost standard-bearer of the esoteric movement in the West, to which we wish to devote our energies. Time and again we must reflect on what Edouard Schuré has accomplished that is epoch-making for the present and for the future development of humanity. Therefore, I may well welcome with the greatest satisfaction—not only out of the deepest impulse of my own heart, but certainly also out of the heartfelt impulse of all the friends gathered here—that we may once again have Edouard Schuré among us during this Munich lecture series and performance season. He is participating in the morning lecture series, but since we also have events where we will all be together, all friends will have the opportunity to be personally at the side of the man who, with great genius and deep insight into esoteric matters, has once again stood by us in the present out of his innermost impulse, at a time when we were, as you all know, embroiled in a struggle that was forced upon us—one we truly did not seek. And once again, the close connection with Edouard Schur& has been demonstrated by the fact that with that open letter—which, as you know, has been reprinted repeatedly, including in our “Mitteilungen,” and which you will find appended to the excellent essay by our esteemed friend Eugen Levy—has stood by our side in a struggle that has shed important light on where truth and opposition to the truth—for that is what it must be called—are to be found in relation to our endeavors.

[ 7 ] And it is deeply telling that, after a long time—one senses the inner reluctance and the desire to keep the confession hidden — has, in a sense, decided to retract the foolish Jesuit accusation, yet one could not help but link this retraction at the same time with what might be called an insult to what Edouard Schur£, out of a serious sense of truth, brought forth in that open letter. The difficulties that arose specifically in connection with the already challenging events in Munich were not unrelated to the fact that we were forced into a struggle—which need not be discussed further here—that cost us so much work and thought, and which was truly unnecessary and will remain unnecessary in its further continuation.

[ 8 ] Now it is necessary for our friends that what has happened be taken into account, at least to some extent, in the pursuit of the truth. In addition to the writings already mentioned, I would like to mention the excellent book by our friend Lévy, which will now also be available in German; I would like to mention the pamphlet by Dr. Unger, that by Mrs. Wolfram, and that by Mr. Walther, which, among others, will be available in our collection of books; writings that our friends have truly struggled to produce, because, strictly speaking, each of them would have had something more important to do than to engage in such an unnecessary and untruthful struggle. But it will be necessary for our friends that these pamphlets not only be written, but also read. For it will certainly be necessary for our friends, who take the truth seriously, to truly bring to light all that has transpired, however unpleasant this knowledge may be in certain respects. It is precisely from this angle that our work in Munich has recently encountered many serious obstacles.

[ 9 ] And when I speak of this work—as I would like to do again this year—it must be noted that for those individuals who, so to speak, had to perform the arduous and exhausting work behind the scenes for the Munich events, this work was by no means made easier by the cancellation of a play. Consequently, the entire arrangement had to be changed, and so the workload was not only not reduced, but actually increased and made more difficult. So, one must not believe that, where the main burden of the preparatory work lies, anything has been made easier by the cancellation of a play; rather, it is this work—which Miss Stinde and Countess Kalckreuth and their helpers, above all, have to perform—that has essentially increased. This year, too, it is a matter close to my heart to point out the self-sacrificing and devoted manner in which a large number of our friends have once again dedicated themselves to the realization of our Munich undertaking. It can only come to fruition because such a spirit of self-sacrifice exists among a large number of our friends. Preparations must begin as early as June, and so it was this year as well. Our esteemed painters, Mr. Linde, Mr. Haß, and Mr. Volckert, had to devote themselves once again to a long period of work, and as I said, these works were delivered fully completed. And working alongside them was a whole group of people who, as it were, behind the scenes—or even before the scenes could be set—devoted themselves entirely and quietly to this work. And it is truly beautiful, and will be beautiful again and again, to see this spirit of self-sacrifice manifest itself in this field. Just as a symptomatic example, let it be noted that, for instance, one of our friends—since two major roles were intended for him, one of which runs through The Guardian of the Threshold and The Awakening of the Soul, and the other would have been in the Schuré play—did not even know whether he would be able to sustain himself through the many rehearsals that would have been required for the three plays; yet he willingly took on the work. All these are things that testify to how much devotion and willingness to make sacrifices have gradually grown among a broad circle within our Anthroposophical Society. The friends who, as I said, had to begin their work very early on—the painters mentioned, as well as Miss vor Eckhardtstein, who is in charge of the costume design—had to devote themselves entirely to the work starting in June. Those involved in the production are occupied all day long, so that they can hardly do anything else during the day. They are, of course, known to our friends in the Anthroposophical Society, and the friends who have devoted themselves to this work will forgive me, since I would have to list a long, long list of individual names. They will not hold it against me if I merely express in general terms—which will be easily believed—how, once again this year, my heart overflows with gratitude, so to speak, toward all those who have contributed their efforts, and certainly also toward all those who have been able to enjoy in any way what has been prepared by our friends for these Munich undertakings.

[ 10 ] Even though, in a sense, opponents are emerging from all sides, it is also becoming clear how our work and our endeavors are expanding. And a large number of our friends have already taken an interest in what has, so to speak, emerged as a new branch of our endeavors: expressive gesture, expressive movement, performed in the noblest sense—what has always been called the art of dance. A number of our friends have had ample opportunity, and will continue to have it, to become acquainted with what appears here as eurythmy. At one of our social gatherings, we will take the opportunity to present something from this branch of our activity to our esteemed friends. That, my dear friends, is essentially what I would have to preface, so to speak, as a personal note to our current lecture series.

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[ 11 ] If you recall the events on stage over the past few days, they offer various points that can serve as a starting point for the reflections in this lecture series. I may say that, in response to various inquiries, I have not only made a start on this each year with my pen, but have also, to a certain extent, worked out something that could serve as an explanation, a kind of commentary on our Mystery Dramas; yet I have set the matter aside each time for the reason I also hinted at somewhat in the preliminary remarks to The Awakening of the Soul. I am reluctant to comment intellectually, after the fact, on that which truly has no theoretical, no intellectual origin, which stands complete in its images like an inspiration from the spiritual world, and about which I could not speak intellectually any differently than another might speak when he enters into the matter. There is a certain need to let the things that are given in this way speak for themselves and not, so to speak, to reduce them to the thin form of conception that can, after all, only ever be intellectual thinking and theorizing. Nevertheless, perhaps some points can be taken up within this lecture series. And today I would first like to draw your attention to what was presented to you as the ninth, tenth, and thirteenth images in The Awakening of the Soul. It is precisely in these images that we have before us what one might call simple visual impressions, whereas some might perhaps expect that, following the stage events relating to the spiritual realm and Egyptian initiation, something more tumultuous, tragic, something—one might say—resounding, rather than unfolding in the stillness of the soul, would be presented before the soul’s eye. And yet, anything that were different in the ninth, tenth, and thirteenth images would have to appear untrue to the occult eye. We have before us soul developments. In contrast, it must be said at once that while theoretical descriptions, such as those we also provide regarding the soul’s development upward into the higher worlds, offer points of reference for every soul regarding the path into the spiritual worlds; this soul development must, however, differ for every soul according to its particular nature, character, temperament, and other circumstances. Therefore, one can only gain a deeper understanding of occult soul development by considering it in its diversity—as it unfolds differently for Maria, differently for Johannes Thomasius, and differently for the other characters in our drama.

[ 12 ] The ninth image is initially dedicated to that moment in Mary’s soul when a consciousness enters her soul of what this soul, so to speak, has not yet fully experienced in its depths during the preceding devachanic period, and what she went through in the distant past, in the time corresponding to the Egyptian initiation. In what has been depicted this time in the spiritual realm, we are dealing with the soul’s experiences between that death which occurred after a medieval incarnation and the birth into the present in which “The Gate of Initiation,” “The Trial of the Soul,” “The Keeper of the Threshold,” and “The Awakening of the Soul” take place. All these experiences, with the exception of the episode in “The Trial of the Soul,” which depicts the content of Capesius’s spiritual review of his previous life, take place in the present; in that present which follows the spiritual past that unfolded in Devachan between the death of the respective individuals following the medieval incarnation—which is the content of the relevant episode—and the present life. What the souls experience during their time in Devachan varies depending on the specific preparation they underwent on Earth. It must be regarded as a significant soul experience when the soul, with a consciousness in the devachanic period, passes through what is called the world midnight. For souls who are not prepared for this, this world midnight is experienced in such a way that the souls, as it were, sleep during that time, which can be described as the Saturn period of Devachan. For one can designate the successive periods that souls undergo between death and a new birth, with reference to the individual planets, as the Sun, Mars, Mercury periods, and so on. Some souls, so to speak, sleep through this cosmic midnight. Prepared souls remain awake during the time of their spiritual life in that cosmic midnight. However, this does not necessarily mean that such souls, who—through their appropriate preparation—consciously experience the cosmic midnight between death and a new birth, that is, while awake, also bring an awareness of this experience into their earthly life when they return to physical existence. For Mary and for Johannes Thomasius, this unfolds in such a way that, having been appropriately prepared, they experience the midnight of the worlds during their spiritual time between death and a new birth; yet a kind of spiritual gloom has spread at the beginning of this earthly life and throughout long periods of it, overshadowing the experience of the midnight of the worlds, and this emerges at a later stage of their present earthly life. But it emerges only when a certain inner peace and wholeness of the soul has been attained. The events that occur within the soul when it experiences the Midnight of the Worlds while awake are significant and profound. The earthly memory of the Midnight of the Worlds must be a calm, serene inner experience; for the effect of this experience of the Midnight of the Worlds is that what is otherwise only subjective, what otherwise acts only as soul forces within, stands before the soul in its essential form. It stands before Mary just as it is depicted in the ninth image of “The Awakening of the Soul” in the form of Astrid and Luna, so that they become living beings. For Johannes Thomasius, the other Philia becomes a living being of the spiritual world; for Capesius, Philia, as she is depicted as a living being of the spiritual world in the thirteenth image. The souls had to learn to feel and experience in such a way that what were previously only abstract forces within them now step before them, as it were, spiritually tangible. And that which stands before the soul, spiritually tangible like true self-knowledge, must be able to enter in complete peace of mind as a result of meditation; this is what is at stake, so that such events may be experienced in the true, genuine sense of the word as a real strengthening and invigoration of the soul. If one were to seek to experience the recollection of the world’s midnight or of an event such as that depicted in the Egyptian initiation scene amidst tumultuous tragedy rather than in serene meditation, then one would not be able to experience it at all. Then the spiritual event unfolding within the soul would cast a darkening shadow before the soul, so that the impressions of the soul’s observation would elude it. A soul that has experienced the World Midnight and has experienced something like what is depicted in the seventh and eighth images of “The Awakening of the Soul,” can only recall what it has gone through when the soul, in a state of complete, serene calm, perceives the approach of thoughts regarding what was previously experienced in the spiritual realm or in a former earthly life in the manner expressed by the words at the beginning of the ninth image:

A star of the soul, there on the shore of the spirit, —
It draws near, — draws near to me in the light of the spirit,
Drawing near with my very self, — as it draws near —
Its light gains strength, — and peace as well.
You star in my circle of spirit, what —
Does your approach shine upon my soul’s gaze?

[ 13 ] One can truly perceive, in an occult sense, the emergence of memories of the Midnight of the Worlds and the experience of the previous incarnation only when the soul is in this calm state, so that the matter does not overwhelm the soul with tumultuous tragedy. Where it is experienced, where the Midnight of the Worlds is lived through, one experiences, however, what is most significant for the soul life of the human being; there one experiences what can be expressed in no other way than by saying: In that cosmic midnight, things are experienced that lie deeply, deeply hidden not only beneath the surface of the sensory world, but also beneath the surface of many a world into which initial clairvoyance leads. What eludes the sensory world—and even many a clairvoyant gaze that already penetrates certain layers beneath the sensory world—is what we might call—and we shall speak of this further—the necessities of world events, those necessities that are rooted in the depths of things, in which, however, the deepest depths of the human soul are also rooted, but which elude the sensory and also the initial clairvoyant gaze and yield to the latter only when something is lived through as is pictorially described in the Saturn period. Then one may say that for such a clairvoyant gaze, which must first arise in the time between death and a new birth, is truly as if flashes of lightning were to cover the entire field of vision of the soul, which in their terrible brilliance illuminate the necessities of the world, but which are at the same time so dazzlingly bright that the glances of insight perish in the bright light, and from these dying glances of insight, pictorial forms take shape, which are then woven into the fabric of the world as the forms from which the destinies of world beings arise. One perceives the reasons for the destinies of human and other world beings in the depths of necessity only when one looks with such glances of insight that, in their recognition, perish in the flashes of light and transform into forms as if they had perished, which then live on as the impulses of destiny in life. And all that which finds true self-knowledge within itself—not that self-knowledge of which so much is chattered about in theosophical circles, but that most serious self-knowledge which arises in the course of the occult life—all that which the soul beholds within itself, with all the imperfections the soul ascribes to itself, belongs to the midnight of the world, as if woven into the rolling thunder of the world’s end, which rolls on in the depths of existence.

[ 14 ] All of these can be experiences that unfold with great tragedy and sacred solemnity, like an awakening in the midst of the world’s midnight, between death and a new birth. If the soul is to be ready to allow an awareness of this to enter the physical sensory world, then this must take place in that serenity of the meditative mood that was hinted at in Mary’s words at the beginning of the ninth image. But then this soul must have been preceded by what it has felt within its spiritual life, as if something of itself—something that belongs intimately to itself, yet has not always remained within what one calls one’s self—had approached from the vastness of the worlds. The mood in which something like a part of one’s own self approaches from the spiritual world, yet as if from vast distances, was attempted to be conveyed in the words that Maria speaks in the spiritual realm:

The flames draw near—they draw near with my thoughts—
From the shore of my world-soul there;
A fierce battle draws near;—my own thoughts,
They battle with Lucifer’s thoughts;
In another soul my own thoughts struggle, —
It draws the fiery light — from dark coldness,
Like lightning flashes — the fiery light of the soul, —
The light of the soul — in the realm of the world’s ice —.

[ 15 ] The memory of what is experienced and can be expressed in such words can be conveyed in the words spoken by Mary at the beginning of the ninth scene. But what the soul must experience in order to have such a memory of the midnight of the world must also lie within earthly life, and indeed in such a way that the human soul has undergone experiences that have led it to experience moods of inner tragedy, inner gravity, and inner dread, which can only be expressed with words such as those placed in Mary’s mouth at the end of the fourth scene. One must have felt how one’s own self is torn away from what is usually called the inner life; how the thinking with which one feels so trustingly connected in life is torn out of the inner self, as it goes into distant, distant expanses of the field of vision. And one must have found within oneself, as a living presence of the soul, that which is expressed in such words, which naturally appear to the outer senses and to the intellect bound to the physical brain as utter nonsense, as a wealth of contradictions. One must first have experienced this mood of the departure of one’s own self, of one’s own thinking from the inner being, if one wishes to experience the memory of the midnight of the worlds in complete stillness. The recollection in earthly life must have been preceded by the experience of the midnight of the worlds in spiritual life, if something such as what is expressed in the ninth image is to occur. But for this to be possible, the soul mood expressed at the end of the fourth image must in turn have preceded it. The flames truly flee; they do not enter earthly consciousness any sooner, they do not approach rest in meditation any sooner, until they have first fled, until this soul mood has been a truth:

The flames flee—they flee with my thoughts;
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And there on the distant shore of the world’s soul
A fierce battle—my own thoughts are fighting
By the stream of nothingness—with the cold light of the spirit.—
My thoughts waver;—cold light—it strikes
Hot darkness from my thoughts. — — —
What now emerges from the dark heat? —
In red flames my self storms — into the light; —
Into the cold light — of the world’s icy realms. —

[ 16 ] This is how things are connected, and when they are connected in this way, they activate the inner soul powers, so that what was previously only an abstract soul power appears before the soul in a spiritually corporeal form, so that it is at once a distinct being and at the same time something one possesses oneself, just as Astrid and Luna appeared before Maria. And then these entities, which are true entities and are at the same time experienced as soul forces, appear in such a way that they can appear together with the Guardian of the Threshold and with Benedictus, as depicted in the ninth image.

[ 17 ] But the essential point is that one senses the mood of this image, in which, in a completely different, individual way—so that the inner soul force corresponding to the other Philia becomes embodied—the awakening, the recollection of the midnight of the world and of Egyptian antiquity, takes place in Johannes Thomasius. For a soul attuned in precisely this way, as is the case with Johannes Thomasius, the word of the other Philia has its meaning:

The Enchanted Weaving of One's Own Being —

[ 18 ] with all that is connected to it in the course of the Mystery Drama. Because this is so, the spirits of John’s youth, Benedictus, and Lucifer enter in precisely the manner in which they are portrayed toward the end of the tenth scene. It is important, especially for this scene, to take in with the eye of the soul how Lucifer approaches Johannes Thomasius and utters the very same words that were spoken in The Guardian of the Threshold at the end of the third scene. In these words, we see how the struggle of Lucifer runs through all worlds and human lives, but also how the mood that resounds in response to Lucifer’s words emerges from the words of Benedictus. One should try to sense what lies in these words spoken by Lucifer, both in The Guardian of the Threshold at the end of the third scene and at the end of the tenth scene of The Awakening of the Soul:

I will fight. Benedictus:
And serve the gods through battle.

[ 19 ] Let us take this opportunity to focus particularly on something else; let us focus on the fact that the same words are spoken in these two places, yet they can be spoken because they mean something entirely different in each of these two places. What they mean at the end of the tenth scene of The Awakening of the Soul is determined by the fact that the preceding words spoken by Maria were—and are—words of transformation derived from other words spoken in The Guardian of the Threshold, and that what is spoken of her beforehand lives within Maria’s soul:

Maria, just as you wished to see her,
Is she not in worlds where truth shines?
A sacred, solemn vow radiates strength,
Which shall preserve for you what you have achieved.

[ 20 ] Now she says:

You can find me in bright realms of light,

[ 21 ] she no longer says:

You'll find me in cold, icy lands,

[ 22 ] but rather:

You will find me in realms of bright light,
Where beauty radiates and creates life forces;
Seek me in the depths of the universe, where souls
Strive to attain a sense of the divine
Through love that beholds the Self in the cosmos.

[ 23 ] The wording is different from that in the second scene of The Awakening of the Soul. This highlights what appears as a conversation between Lucifer and Benedictus at the end of this tenth scene in The Awakening of the Soul: “I will fight” — “And in fighting serve the gods,” something quite different from what it was at the end of the third scene in The Guardian of the Threshold. This sheds light on something that, as it were, reigns as an Ahrimanic influence precisely in all intellectual thinking, in the entire intellectual culture of the present.

[ 24 ] One of the greatest challenges for this external, intellectual aspect of contemporary culture is for people to realize that the same words can express different things in different contexts. Our contemporary culture is such that people believe that if they have words, then these words—insofar as they are imprinted on the physical plane—must always yield the same result. Here we have the very point where Ahriman is most intensely at the heels of people today, preventing them from grasping that words only come alive in their deepest essence when one perceives them in the context in which they stand. Nothing that extends beyond the physical plane can be understood unless one takes this occult fact into account. It is particularly important for our present time that such an occult fact can act upon souls and hearts as a counterweight to the external culture of the intellect that has gripped all people.

[ 25 ] Among the various aspects relevant to these Mystery Dramas, note how the peculiar figure of Ahriman first creeps in quietly in The Awakening of the Soul, how it reveals itself, as it were, passing between the personalities, and how it gains more and more significance toward the end of The Awakening of the Soul. I will also attempt to expound upon such matters—as they pertain to the characterization of Ahriman and Lucifer and to many other things—in a special treatise that may reach your hands within this lecture series, possibly by the middle of the week, and which will be titled The Threshold of the Spiritual World, because it seems particularly necessary to me that light be shed on various areas for our friends at this time. It is not so easy to gain clarity regarding figures such as Lucifer and Ahriman. In particular, it may be useful for some to pay a little attention, especially in The Awakening of the Soul, to the fact that someone who is not entirely unclear about the Ahrimanic in the world may think certain things that another person, driven by unconscious Ahrimanic impulses, also thinks—but thinks them in a different mood. Perhaps there will be some souls among you who can empathize with all the circumstances that flow into such words as those expressed by Ahriman, as long as he is still, so to speak, creeping between the individuals:

So do not let him confuse you completely.
He faithfully guards the threshold, after all,
Even if he now makes use of clothes
Which you yourself first pieced together
In your mind from old horror stories.
As an artist, however, you should not
Portray him in the style of bad drama.
But you will do better later.
Yet the distorted image still serves the soul itself.
Nor does it take too much force
To show you what it still is.
You should notice how the guardian speaks:
His tone is elegiac, too much pathos.
Do not allow him this, then he will show you
From whom he still borrows too much today.

[ 26 ] I can form a mental image of some people, from one aesthetic standpoint or another, finding fault with the entire way these Mystery Dramas are presented to us. These objections, along with many others raised against anthroposophy, are resolved for those who are able to put themselves in the mood of Ahriman. The overly clever people of the present day who dismiss anthroposophy belong entirely to that sort of people of whom the poet says: “This little folk never senses the devil, even if he had them by the collar.” — But these opponents of anthroposophy can be judged a little by what Ahriman says here as he prowls about.

[ 27 ] Then, however, Ahriman confronts us in his more serious form, as Strader’s death gradually enters into the events depicted in the Mystery Drama—so much so that the forces emanating from this death should be sought by the soul’s gaze in their activity within all that otherwise takes place in The Awakening of the Soul. And it must be said again and again that this awakening takes place in various ways. For Maria, it occurs through specific events in which those soul forces that find their embodied spiritual expression in Luna and Astrid step before Maria’s soul. For Johannes Thomasius, it occurs through the enchanted weaving of the inner being becoming an experience within him, as it steps before him in a tangibly spiritual way—if one may use the absurd expression—in the other Philia; and again in a different way for Capesius through Philia. But the awakening can gradually dawn in the souls in many other forms as well. Thus we see it dawning in the eleventh picture for Strader’s soul. Here we do not have—as already mentioned—the tangibly spiritual soul forces Luna, Philia, Astrid, and the other Philia; here we still have the imaginative images through which spiritual events shine into physical consciousness. That stage of the soul’s awakening which can thus take place in Strader can only be depicted by presenting an imaginative insight such as the image of the ship in the eleventh image.

[ 28 ] And in yet another form, the awakening of the soul can gradually prepare itself. You will find this—and now, as is fitting, after Ahriman has been presented in the twelfth scene in his deeper meaning—hinted at in the thirteenth scene in the conversation between Hilarius and Romanus. Here the soul’s gaze must turn to what has taken place in the soul of Hilarius, from the events in “The Guardian of the Threshold” to those in “The Awakening of the Soul,” and what is expressed in the words of Hilarius:

Thank you, my friend, for these mystical words.
I have heard them often; only now
Do I feel what they secretly contain.
The ways of the world are hard to fathom.
And it befits me, my dear friend, to wait,
Until the Spirit chooses to show me the way,
That is fitting for my vision.

[ 29 ] What words does Romanus speak? He speaks the words that Hilarius could hear again and again from the spot where Romanus stands in the temple—words that Romanus had spoken time and again from that very spot, words that had passed before Hilarius’s inner eye up until this experience without that deeper understanding which one might call an understanding of life. This in itself is already a step toward the awakening of the soul: when one has brought oneself to understand what one has taken in as a thought-form—what one may have understood quite well, perhaps even be able to give lectures on—and yet does not possess in a living understanding of life. One can have taken in everything that is proclaimed in anthroposophy—what books, lectures, and cycles contain—and can even share it with others, perhaps to their great benefit, and yet come to realize: One can only understand the words of Romanus as Hilarius does after a certain experience, for which one must wait in peace until a certain degree of awakening has taken place in the soul.

[ 30 ] Oh, if a large number of our friends could put themselves in the mood of anticipation—this mood of awaiting the arrival of something that perhaps contains only its seemingly quite clear, yet still misunderstood foreshadowing in the theories and debates—then something of what has been expressed in the third scene of The Awakening of the Soul, in Strader’s words, might also take root in these souls: there, where Strader stands between Felix Balde and Capesius, where he stands in a peculiar way between the two, where he stands in such a way that he is literally familiar with everything they say, yet now, even though he could have repeated it to himself, he cannot find it comprehensible. He knows it, can even regard it as wisdom, but he now realizes that there is such a thing as what can be expressed with the words:

Capesius and Father Felix, both...
Conceal a dark meaning in clear words.

[ 31 ] Our overly clever people of today may sometimes admit that it can happen to this or that person to conceal meaning—clear meaning—in obscure words; but it is not something that any of the truly intelligent people of today would readily admit: that an obscure meaning might be hidden in clear words. Nevertheless, this admission—that a dark meaning might be hidden in clear words—is the higher aspect of human nature. Many sciences are clear, many philosophies are clear. But something important would have happened in the further development of humanity if philosophers were to emerge who could make the confession that, indeed, from system to system in the philosophies, people have certainly presented clear ideas, time and again, so that one can say: Things are clear—yet that a dark meaning can lie within clear words. Something important would have happened if many who consider themselves overly clever—who, within certain limits, rightly regard what they know as wisdom—were to present themselves to the world as Strader stands beside Father Felix and Capesius, and say:

I often found it understandable—what you are saying now—;
I used to take it for wisdom;—yet not a single word
in your speeches is now clear to me.
Capesius and Father Felix, both...
conceal a dark meaning in clear words...

[ 32 ] Now imagine a philosopher of the present or the past who has developed a philosophy that is, in its own way, plausible and clear, and who stands beside this philosophy of his—which is, after all, in a certain sense the result of human thought—and says: I often found what I had written there comprehensible; I then took it for wisdom; yet not a single word of it is now comprehensible to me in these discourses; even in those I wrote myself, much is now incomprehensible to me; these discourses conceal a dark meaning in clear words. — Is it not true that one cannot easily imagine a philosopher of the present or the recent past making such a confession, nor even one of the overly clever people of our materialistic or, as one might more nobly say, monistic age? And yet it would be a blessing for our contemporary culture if people could approach thought and other cultural achievements in the same way that Strader stands here alongside Father Felix and Capesius; if such people were to become ever more numerous, and if anthroposophy could truly contribute something to this very self-knowledge.