The Rudolf Steiner Archive

71. Salvation through the Savior

The Inner Mission of Richard Wagner’s Parsifal in Relation to the Task of the Fifth Cultural Epoch

[ 1 ] From Richard Wagner’s epic “The Ring of the Nibelung,” one can see how the “I”—the self-consciousness of the fifth age, our age—was born out of the original wisdom of the Atlantean era, and how linked to this is the task of becoming a free, independent, capable “I” and bringing the intellect to its highest development. Egoism must first be linked to the intellect—that sense of individuality which, on the other hand, grants human beings personal freedom, making them strong for the physical plane. Human beings originally received the impulse toward freedom through the will of the gods. Wotan and the gods guided humanity with self-sacrificing love. In The Ring, it is written: “Whom I love, I let be to himself; let him stand or fall—he is his own master.”

[ 2 ] The principle of freedom must exist to give human beings the opportunity to find their way back to the Divine through a completely free exercise of their will, entirely independent of any higher divine will or any divine influence. Intellectual knowledge was born from wisdom, from the originally pure flame, which is represented by the Rhine River. The intellect is represented by gold, which, however, was originally still a pure, unadulterated force among the Rhine Maidens. The human “I,” with its thinking, feeling, and willing, was born from the Rhine River, from the soul: Man has always been a part of God.

[ 3 ] In the E-flat major chord, Richard Wagner presents to us the creation and workings of the Divine in the world of spiritual forces. In the fundamental tone, the third, and the fifth—which is already in motion—within the triad, we find that which creates, weaves, and works through figurative movement. The divine lives and works within this triad, and within this divine trinity, the divine Self lives and works; what underlies it all is wisdom, is the Holy Spirit. Divine wisdom permeates the astral plane. And today it works from the center of the Earth within the densest forces to re-spiritualize the Earth, to dissolve that which has been compressed and constricted by separateness. The ring of egoism is dissolved once again by those forces of love that entered through the act of love that took place in the Mystery of Golgotha. Brunhilde knows this. She knows that the fire of love from the Spirit purifies the ring from the curse, that this fire burns away egoism, that gold—the intellect—is purified of egoism, and that it must be dissolved in wisdom. But selfless love is born of wisdom. Freed from the constraints of the earthly realm, the “I” is reborn in the water and fire of the pure astral forces—the forces of the spirit—and must be returned to the originally pure elements of fire and water.

[ 4 ] The personal “I” must come to open itself to the Divine like a flower, just as a flower opens itself to a ray of sunlight. The fifth age, which brings forth the mature “I,” must once again find a connection to the Divine, lest the further development of humanity lead to a hardening of the “I.” In the current course of history, we have reached a point where, through the serious times in which we now find ourselves, trials are beginning that lead us through a process of purification—a process that must guide us in such a way that our sense of separateness gradually dissolves once more. If we can sacrifice our petty self-interests, our selfish “I” interests, a little for the sake of the greater interests of the world, then what must happen will be able to happen. The fifth cultural epoch is to bring forth an internalized Christianity that is free from influences of an egoistic nature. True Christianity is to show that it is possible for the human soul to rise above that which debases the soul in its thinking, feeling, and willing. For the true human being is debased by the desires and passions of the lower nature on the one hand; but the human being also debases himself when he debases the best he possesses—the spirit—by misusing it for base purposes, for purposes that serve only to increase personal power. The slaying of a Siegfried-like nature—the spiritual essence of a Baldur—was perceived as a profound tragedy by our Germanic ancestors. Siegfried-Baldur was not yet equipped to defeat those dark forces depicted in Götterdämmerung, the very forces that bring about the twilight of the gods. He was not yet able to defeat or see through the Ahrimanic force that confronted him in Hagen; he was not yet able to overcome the egoistic-Luciferic within himself. For Siegfried should have realized that he was supposed to return the Ring to the Rhine Maidens; he should have listened to Loge-Lucifer to the end, who said that the Ring must be returned. We hear him through to the end when we have learned to distinguish between good and evil, and when the intellect once again flows into wisdom. But human beings must learn to resist Lucifer in his temptations. Lucifer, however, leads in a negative way—by enabling human beings to draw strength from him, by helping them learn to see through him, and by guiding them back to wisdom that they may once again recognize. Lucifer is dangerous where human passions are at work: in thinking, feeling, and willing; human beings must overcome him. They must overcome the egoistic “I” desire in thinking, feeling, and willing.

[ 5 ] Why did the sword Nothung not protect Siegfried from Hagen’s treachery? In the four individual works—“Rheingold,” “Valkyrie,” “Siegfried,” and “Götterdämmerung”—we witness a descent down to the solid earth, until humanity became the personal self. Siegfried descended to the final phase, to the personal “I.” He had lost the ancient wisdom, and he did not yet possess a new one; therefore, he could not yet overcome the forces that pose a danger precisely to the personal “I.” He possessed, so to speak, the last remnants of ancient wisdom that one still had during the transition from tribal consciousness to the personal “I”—but even these are lost to him; they are of no use to him anymore. People who have fully lived through the fourth phase—Siegfried did not fully experience the fourth phase; he is a man of the transitional period—no longer possess this consciousness; within us, it has grown dark. True, we have Grane, the horse, and earthly wisdom. But these do not provide sufficient protection against the dark forces. Nor can the sword of ancient initiatory powers, ancient wisdom, and insight—which are now waning within Siegfried—protect him from the dangers posed by his emerging intellect; thus, he was bound to succumb to the dark forces. The spiritual and luminous essence of bygone ages is fading—Hagen’s treacherous schemes prevail. But fate also overtakes him; he, too, must turn back onto the path to catharsis, to purification, through the Rhine Maidens who pull him into the depths—and this path leads into the depths of his own soul. Baldur-Siegfried must be overcome by the dark forces that have their seat in selfishness. And humanity would have fared badly had the Mystery of Golgotha not taken place, had Christ Jesus—the great Master Zarathustra-Jesus, who worked through and spiritualized the wondrous, pure form of Jesus of Nazareth—not entered that form. Christ Jesus had to die just as Baldur and Siegfried had died. But he, the Christ, overcame the dark forces. Therefore, for all time, through the Mystery of Golgotha, we now have the assurance—through the powers that have been placed within us ever since—that we can overcome the dark forces that have their seat in selfishness through the powers of the higher Self, which was planted within us in embryonic form, by awakening it—to become masters over selfishness. It is only unwarranted egoism that becomes a terrible force to us, as it manifests itself as sensuality, lust for power, megalomania, or the vanity of the personal “I.”

[ 6 ] This is what we must learn from Richard Wagner: Nowhere in occult training has there been any danger—since the Mystery of Golgotha was fulfilled—except where this egoism speaks. If we overcome it—and we can overcome it—we will pass safely through occult training. But we are free to decide which paths we wish to take. We have been given the power of thought so that we may act freely according to our own insight.

[ 7 ] But we must also keep our thinking—especially with regard to the moral element—free from Ahrimanic and Luciferic influences; only then can we come to recognize, through insight, the paths we must take. If we wish to realize what is truly human, we must, with regard to morality and from the perspective of our “I,” learn to view our soul in its three parts with courageous self-knowledge, and learn to discern the dangers and the good in thinking, feeling, and willing. Christ triumphed over the dark forces in the Mystery of Golgotha, over everything that entered into human beings through the Fall. The Fall was necessary to lead human beings to freedom and to enable them either to open themselves to the Divine or to continue on the path of separateness.

[ 8 ] The Deity has given us the power of thought so that we may learn to distinguish between good and evil. But to do so, we must think thought through to its conclusion if we truly wish to learn to distinguish between good and evil. One thinks thought through to its conclusion by becoming aware that it must open itself to the Deity. To do this, thought must be purified; for from the purification of the soul’s powers emerges the Spirit-Self, Manas. Divine wisdom, which is a part of the divine Self, emerges. Wisdom that is one with the Life-Spirit, the spirit of spiritual love, and the Spirit-Man, who is spiritual will. This is what we must understand: that divine wisdom is something we can attain if we truly walk the paths that lead, first and foremost, to the liberation of thought from egoism. Otherwise, we walk the paths that lead to the hardening of the ego. Full divine wisdom, however, can only be attained by purifying the entire soul of selfishness, including in our feelings and will.

[ 9 ] The task of the fifth cultural epoch is, first, to develop thinking and, second, to free thinking from egoism. The purification of the will consists in attaining the good will that leads upward to divine wisdom, for: “Blessed are those who are of good will.” Godliness is the goal of this path, which, however, leads the will more and more toward severe trials. But ultimately, the purification of thinking, feeling, and willing must result in spiritual thinking, spiritual willing, and godliness.

[ 10 ] If we cultivate the goodwill that should already be beginning now, then we purify the self of selfishness; then we ourselves become a part of compassionate love by connecting with that which is compassionate love itself, by allowing our small self to become a reflection of the great Self. And this spiritual love will always be connected with wisdom.

[ 11 ] All of this is present in Parsifal. True Christianity must blossom from the fifth, the Germanic, cultural epoch. What descends ever deeper from the spiritual worlds onto the mature ego—what sinks ever deeper and unites ever more closely with the mature ego—that is what we call grace. The difference between Parsifal and Siegfried is this: Siegfried could not protect himself against the dark forces of Hagen. In the first part, Parsifal is similar to Siegfried. Parsifal enters the realm of the Grail with his purity and innocence; to humanity, he appears as a fool, for how could the world understand that this fool is wiser than they are? Perhaps such a fool, more than the world is capable of, was allowed to know the deep meaning of the words Wotan addressed to Mime when he stopped at Mime’s as a wanderer: “Many a man thought himself wise, yet he did not know what he truly needed.” Such a Parsifal soul seems childlike to us. Without this childlikeness—which the world regards as folly, yet which it so desperately needs—Parsifal could not have entered the realm of the Grail.

[ 12 ] What is the Grail region? In a certain sense, it is the same as the forest in which Siegfried slays the dragon. It is the elemental-astral world in which the Grail Castle is sought. Klingsor, the adversary of the Grail Brotherhood, is a being similar to the forces that can exert their influence through human selfishness—just as Alberich and Hagen were.

[ 13 ] At first, Amfortas is not yet advanced enough to be able to defeat Klingsor. Great sacred objects are kept in the Grail Castle, of which Amfortas is the guardian. During the battle, Klingsor snatches the Holy Spear from Amfortas, causing Amfortas to succumb to the seductive woman, who is an evil entity capable of acting as a dark force within the soul—and she also operates through human selfishness. She may be called Venus or Paradise, for Lucifer and Ahriman are interwoven and mingled within her. Richard Wagner portrays this Kundry in such a way that, in her daytime consciousness, she serves the Knights of the Grail; but in her nighttime consciousness—where her “I” is not free—she is held captive by Klingsor due to the impurity of her “I,” and thus, unwittingly, she falls prey to Klingsor at night. Thus she appears as the soul that vacillates between good and evil and can no longer master the evil. Amfortas wanted to defeat the sorcerer, the practitioner of black magic, with the divine powers of the spear, but fell prey to Kundry’s power. He was therefore not yet mature; he had not reached the full height of the purification of the “I.” He was not yet able to overcome the egoism rooted in desire. He lacked the purity of the “I.”

[ 14 ] One was to come, “the pure fool, wise through compassion.” But this one was to bring the full power and maturity of the “I.” Parsifal had killed a swan. This killing of the swan has much to say. After all, the personal “I” has always killed the spiritual—represented by the swan—through its selfishness. In the swan’s breaking gaze, Parsifal learns what it means to kill. He learns to have compassion and love for the animal world, to which humankind is indebted; he realizes what it means to cause pain.

[ 15 ] He must learn a second lesson through the questions Gurnemanz asks him. Parsifal cannot answer any of them. But when told, “Tell me what you know, for surely you must know something,” he replies: “I have a mother; her name is Herzeleide.” Without this mother, a person cannot enter the Grail realm; indeed, he cannot reach it without undergoing trials that bring him “Herzeleide.” What, then, is “Herzeleide,” the mother? Kundry knows her; she tells him that his mother died of grief over his departure. This is something every human being does, unwittingly. Each of us has run away from this mother. The original legend tells how Parsifal learns from the hermit that one man had not abandoned his mother. Parsifal has abandoned his mother Sophia, the divine wisdom that is always connected with Herzeleide. The latter is the ancient pre-Christian wisdom, the mother of the personal self. This divine wisdom dies when a person attains the personal self. We have left behind the old divine wisdom; we have not yet taken the new divine wisdom into ourselves; we must first attain it. We must take the Mother into ourselves in a new way. This is spoken of by John, the disciple whom the Lord loved. On the cross, he takes the Mother into himself—the divine wisdom, which is now a new, Christianized wisdom, but which is regained through heartache. Siegfried did not fully experience the development of the personal “I.” Parsifal, on the other hand, although he resembles Siegfried to a T, possesses this personal “I.” With regard to this new wisdom, he initially enters the Grail realm in a state of complete ignorance. Parsifal stands in the fifth sub-age. Siegfried is in the transition from the third to the fourth cultural epoch. Parsifal had to leave the Mother—the ancient wisdom—in order to become independent. The human being is led out of the ancient wisdom toward the personal “I.” Parsifal had many names, yet he no longer remembers any of them. He had undergone many incarnations, in which he always bore different names, but he no longer knows anything about them. The personal human being no longer knows that he has been here many times before and has always borne different names.

[ 16 ] Amfortas’s healing is intertwined with Parsifal’s development. There are two paths—the path of Amfortas and the path of Parsifal—that lie before humanity. Both must come together if the healing of the soul is to be achieved.

[ 17 ] Amfortas appears to us as a man afflicted by suffering, whose soul is sickened by the spear. What is the spear? “Whoever fears the tip of my spear shall never pass through the fire.” The tip of the spear is to be feared by those who cannot yet pass through the swirling flames. Amfortas is such a person. He succumbs to the element of desire, to Kundry, who dwells in the realm of longing. He must fear the spear’s point; it wounds him. He suffers from it both spiritually and physically. The spear is described to us as the divine spear of love, as the sun-lance of the deity. Just as the sun’s rays pierce through a person, so does the spear’s tip act spiritually. The divinity, with its radiant splendor, illuminates a person’s own imperfections. Yet it is not the divinity that would punish the person; rather, the person judges himself—he attains self-knowledge through the light forces of the spear. This is the situation Amfortas finds himself in. He must recognize that he, the chosen guardian of the Grail, cannot bear the divine because he is not sufficiently purified—because he cannot safely pass through the swirling flame, the fire of passion. This is the wound: he must tell himself, “I must reveal the sanctuary to those who are pure within the Grail Castle, and I am unworthy to do so.” Klingsor used the creative powers of the spear in a selfish manner, and that is what is so terrible. Selfishness must not possess such powers, for that would be disastrous for the course of world events. This struggle has not yet been fought to a conclusion in the course of world events and will continue until all people have ultimately chosen the path of good.

[ 18 ] Parsifal must disappoint Gurnemanz by only now learning to follow the path of compassion, the eightfold path. Parsifal should have asked the sick man an important question: “What ails you, Uncle?” He should have felt compassion and, at the same time (for otherwise the question makes no sense), possessed the healing powers that lie within the spear. But he does not possess it. He must first win it for himself. “That which might close your wound—from it I shall let holy blood flow.” The spear carries within it the helping, healing powers. The title “Uncle” is meant to express that Parsifal is in the Grail Castle among his spiritual kin, that is, among his spiritual brothers. But he does not know that Amfortas is his spiritual brother—a brother who ranks higher in the spiritual hierarchy and should therefore be addressed as “Uncle.” He therefore does not recognize his spiritual brother. Nor does Parsifal know that Titurel is his grandfather—Titurel, the aged builder of the Grail Castle, who truly exists in the higher worlds and can indeed be found there if one’s clairvoyant gaze is directed toward him; to the Grail Brothers, he is always the great ancestor, the great master. Through his innocence, Parsifal is permitted to enter the Grail Castle, to experience the mysteries, and to see the ailing king in his suffering. The Holy Grail reveals itself to him: “The holy blood glows.” He is allowed to experience the rejuvenating powers, which are also transferred to him. As ignorant as he is, he is nevertheless already permitted to experience the rejuvenating powers by being allowed to see how the chalice glows, by being allowed to receive what radiates from the glowing chalice. He sees all of this, but he cannot ask the question; he lacks the knowledge. Parsifal must still learn “worldly experience.” He must learn to see through what Siegfried was not yet able to do. He must overcome the treachery of Klingsor and Kundry: Ahriman and Lucifer forces now approach him to tempt him. By passing through the temptation, through the tempting forces, he is to attain what he does not yet possess but must now acquire. Kundry is summoned by Klingsor. She appears as if she were not quite physically present; she seems almost transparent, as if only her ego and astral body were visible—dreamlike, sleeping, as if her waking consciousness were not present. Then she is artificially roused under Klingsor’s spell. Yet one has the feeling that all of this—the entire second act—is now taking place not on the physical plane, but on the astral plane. Klingsor succeeds in rousing her, so that she sinks into the depths with a terrifying laugh to tempt Parsifal. Kundry is tormented by this laugh. She once laughed this very laugh when the Savior walked the Way of the Cross. Where frivolity dwells in the soul, there is this laughter. And frivolity always laughs at what is pure, innocent, and spiritual. Parsifal does not succumb to the flower maidens, and at the very moment when he might succumb to Kundry—who approaches him in the most cunning way—Parsifal triumphs; at that moment, compassion is born within him. Now he feels Amfortas’s terrible pain! He understands him; he now feels his way into the soul of the Grail King—into that pain-ridden soul—and cries out: “Amfortas! The wound, the wound—it burns in my heart!”

[ 19 ] Kundry tempts Parsifal by reminding him of his mother. She accuses him of having caused his mother’s death, causing him to exclaim: “Ha, what else have I forgotten? What have I ever been mindful of? Only dull folly lives within me!” Kundry replies with these tempting words: “Confession will turn guilt into repentance; insight in the mind will turn folly around!” Kundry does not mean divine insight. Everything the temptress says is twisted, turned on its head in a sophistical manner, turned from white to black. Yet she does not triumph; for it is precisely there that victory is won, where Parsifal feels the pain of others in his own flesh; there, where divine, merciful love is born within him. To feel the pain of others in our own flesh—this is what we are led toward in the present time of war, as we are called to practice the mantra:

As long as you feel the pain,
Which shuns me,
Christ remains unrecognized
Working within the fabric of the universe.

[ 20 ] As long as we cannot empathize with the suffering of others, there can be no true Christianity. Thus, through Kundry, Parsifal does indeed become “world-clear-sighted,” but in a way that Kundry certainly does not desire. Now he has gained worldly experience; now he sees through Kundry’s soul. Now he has overcome the Luciferian temptation; he has worldly experience, worldly clairvoyance; now he recognizes the wound that burns in Amfortas’s heart. When Kundry cries out for help, Klingsor is blinded by delusion and does the most foolish thing he could possibly do: he hurls the spear at Parsifal, letting it slip from his hand. Parsifal seizes it and makes the sign of the cross with it. Through this sign, Kundry and Klingsor are defeated, and the entire Enchanted Garden falls into ruins.

[ 21 ] The cross that Siegfried was not yet able to take upon himself—Parsifal knows of this cross. He knows that one must take upon oneself the cross—the cross of the purification of the whole human being—if one is to become worthy of the spear and, in turn, to share in the love of God, which is manifested in the sun-lance, the lance of love, the holy spear. The Deity directs its rays of love toward every being, but this love, which shines into the human soul like rays of the sun, affects human nature—though it is not the love itself that does so—as if the human being were receiving wounds, as if these wounds, inflicted, so to speak, by the spear, were also healed by it. “Only the spear that inflicted the wound can heal it.”

[ 22 ] There are well-meaning but uninformed Christians who like to speak of the Savior’s love, saying: “The Savior is always loving.” - Yet we must not forget that one cannot simply come to the Savior without proper preparation. That is why we must speak of the path that is prepared, the one that leads to Him. Christ demands of us—and must demand—the effort to purify our very being. And if we approach him while still immature, he appears to us in his glory as one who judges us, even though he never actually judges. He has this effect on us solely through the glory of his appearance, which we must contrast with our own imperfection—an imperfection whose true extent we are often completely unaware of. What Amfortas must undergo in this way was lived out in the Palestinian era; it was, in fact, experienced by a man who, out of ignorance, initially persecuted the Savior and His followers: Saul. The light in which the voice of Christ resounds—the light that brings him self-knowledge—works within him like the spear that inflicts the wound. Through this, he knew that he was persecuting the spiritual. He knew: The Christ within us—the Christianized human being—may unite with the Christ outside of us. To achieve this, however, we must do much, much more on our part. Christ cannot simply dwell in a troubled soul.

[ 23 ] Thus, by his very presence alone, he separates good from evil within us, even though he does not judge our most secret thoughts, feelings, and emotions as a judge would. But if we can offer him a pure heart, we need not fear being illuminated by the Christ-sun, the holy spear. Christ, so to speak, acts as an educator within us by illuminating the good and evil of our soul with his divine lance, the spear of love. We must therefore take into ourselves and realize within ourselves that which He must keep in order—the divine law of harmony—if we are to learn to bear the spear. The spear is won under the sign of the cross. Parsifal is able to conquer the spear by defeating Kundry, the lower, desire-driven nature. Through this, he regains the helping, healing powers that belong to white, selfless magic—powers that must not fall into the hands of selfish, black magicians. But Kundry sends a curse after him: “Fool, fool! You who were so dear to me—I consecrate you to him as an escort!” This curse has the effect that Parsifal must still endure many trials. But then he appears, armed in his armor. Here we have the armor, the shield that Lohengrin possesses—the armor, the weapons of the spirit, the armor that consists of being prepared to face the world and humanity, to see through them, and to be able to resist base passions: Those powers of insight and worldly clarity that defeat the error to which the soul is exposed from without and within—those that were able to triumph and attain a new, Christ-infused wisdom. Man does not know when he will be deemed worthy for the first time, nor does he know when he will be deemed worthy for the second time, to be allowed to enter the Grail Temple.

[ 24 ] Kundry is allowed to undergo an awakening—an awakening from the long hibernation of her misguided ways. She is allowed to experience the conversion of her soul, which awakens from darkness and error. “Serve, serve.”

[ 25 ] Parsifal has reached the holy spring, which represents wisdom—the wisdom of God—that indeed cleanses him of error. The washing of the feet begins. The washing of the feet, which always signifies the “desire to serve.” After Parsifal has been cleansed of the dust of his long odyssey, he experiences, in the magic of Good Friday, a newly gained connection—an inner relationship with the plant world, with plant nature, and with the human soul. This is what the forest bird says to Siegfried, because Siegfried had this connection to nature and its essence after Fafner was slain. When we have established these connections to nature, then we hear what nature says to us; then we become attuned to its voice. We find the Grail Castle within ourselves, but only if we build the temple ourselves, if we raise the supporting columns within our own souls with our own hands. In Götterdämmerung, it is told how Valhalla is destroyed by Loki’s moonfire. This means that the fire of Lucifer brings about the decay of the physical body. The selfishness of the passions brings about the decay of the body, which leads to death. But from now on, human beings are to create a new temple through their own efforts by utilizing the powers that have been placed within them since the Mystery of Golgotha, by recognizing their “I”-task in the true sense; then the new temple of the Christianized soul will arise. Parsifal must first atone for Amfortas, bringing him union with the Divinity. Thus the soul is healed through purification. The Godhead desires our entire soul, our entire “I,” and this “I” must carry within itself the processed forces that are attained on the physical plane. This “I,” standing firmly on earth and having undergone purification, is called to become the bearer of the higher “I.” Then, indeed, we must die, but we die in order to become. We die into Christ, into the sacred repository of wisdom on the Rhine, which was originally with the Deity, which was given to humanity in the Mystery of Golgotha, and which rises anew for us, as Richard Wagner expresses it, a Holy Grail in the rejuvenating powers of the Rosicrucians. The human being is the temple that the Deity wishes to inhabit.

[ 26 ] Jesus of Nazareth was such a temple. The “I” forces of Jesus-Zarathustra—which he had attained on Earth over many lifetimes—worked their way into the spiritual sheaths of Jesus of Nazareth. Therefore, after it has worked through the soul, a personal “I” must prepare itself to become a bearer of the divinity; for from below, from the earth, such a mature “I” must be offered to the descending divinity. The “I” of Jesus of Nazareth withdrew when the Christ entered. The personal “I” must die to the personal, which means that we must surrender what is transitory and personal within us. Human beings must once again attain the childlikeness of the soul in order to be able to serve as bearers of the “I,” which is connected to the fact that unchildlikeness—egoism—falls away. Then, however, the words of Paul are true: “Not I, but Christ in me.”

[ 27 ] Did not the true human being—true, holy humanity—stand before humanity when it crucified Christ? “Ecce homo!” “Behold the man!”

[ 28 ] A magnificent quote by Nietzsche, which he coined with regard to Richard Wagner’s great, inner cultural mission, reads:

[ 29 ] “And ask yourselves, you generations of people living today! Was this composed for you? Do you have the courage to point with your hand to the stars of this entire celestial vault of beauty and goodness and say: ‘It is our life that Wagner has placed among the stars’—‘Salvation to the Savior!’