The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Fifth Lecture

[ 1 ] My dear friends! Today I would like to say a few words to you about the third area you mentioned—namely, the actual content of the sermon. Of course, at the core, all three areas are deeply interconnected. We have offered some insights into the liturgical aspect, which of course must be greatly expanded upon and incorporated into concrete terms—into what is needed today. We have at least been able to offer some insights into the liturgical aspect, and I would like to build on that to explain to you how this liturgical aspect, in turn, relates to the actual content of the sermon in practice.

[ 2 ] You see, the sermon appeals to the imaginative perception of the individual, of the congregation member. Of course, the sermon must be delivered in such a way that what enters a person through the conceptual realm is transformed as quickly and as intensely as possible into feeling, into the emotional realm, and above all into an impulse of the will. Nevertheless, we must still reach the congregation member through the sermon by taking the detour via the conceptual realm. After all, in all teaching and instruction, we must influence people through the realm of the conceptual.

[ 3 ] This conceptual aspect, however, by its very nature actually contradicts human nature as a whole. Here one enters a realm where modern science proves, from the outset, powerless to understand these things. When one says something like this—that the realm of the imagination contains something that contradicts the full nature of the human being—one encounters a complete lack of understanding within today’s scientific worldview. And yet it is true. For the realm of the imagination tends to be taken in once and then retained through memory. You will easily see that this does not correspond to human nature.

[ 4 ] If you look at the other extreme in human beings—the purely physical processes—you cannot say: “I ate or drank today, so that remains in my organism; therefore, I do not need to eat and drink again tomorrow”—rather, eating and drinking must be repeated in a rhythmic sequence. Whatever a person accomplishes in their activities must occur in a rhythmic sequence. And this is, in essence, true human nature—to be integrated into rhythm in a certain way—whereas it is already a deviation from human nature when a person takes something in once and then retains it, so that it becomes permanent. And this permanence is the nature of the conceptual. Taken to the extreme, the conceptual becomes tedious when repeated too often; and associated with this theoretical-conceptual aspect is a fundamental sin against human nature, namely, no longer wanting to engage in repetition. One can observe this purely from the outside. Read good translations of the Buddha’s discourses; there you will find that these discourses contain countless repetitions—one proceeds through nothing but repetitions. In the West, people have committed the folly of extracting only the content from the Buddha’s discourses and omitting the repetitions, because they did not realize that the Buddha had taken human nature into account.

[ 5 ] Here we encounter the point where, by the very nature of humanity itself, mere content must necessarily give way to something that can be absorbed rhythmically. In the past, of course, this was done entirely on the basis of instinctive insights, by incorporating prayer—as the rhythmic element—into instruction; prayer was incorporated as a constantly recurring expression of faith, even though each individual prayer has exactly the same content. The conceptual aspect transitions into the volitional aspect when repetition sets in. There is no other way to achieve a [volitional] content at all. This already gives us the necessary integration of the didactic element into the liturgical element. We must present the doctrinal content in such forms that we, in a certain way, convey visual images to the congregation members. We must allow what we teach to flow, in a certain way, into visual images, and establish the main points in a certain monumental way, repeating them as a formula over and over again. Without this, we cannot take the doctrinal content beyond the theoretical and conceptual realm into the practical and volitional realm—and we must do so. The more we stick to merely passing on the doctrinal content, the less we move toward the practical practice of religion.

[ 6 ] This is precisely what immediately shows you how elements of worship are already present in something like the Buddha’s discourses. The very process of distilling the element of will from the purely theoretical element of imagination is actually present in these discourses. As we call upon people to repeat the Lord’s Prayer, we are moving from the purely theoretical into the practical-religious realm. But we will not be able to do this at all unless we ourselves are completely imbued with the supersensible substance of the universe. And this brings me today to certain characteristics of the teachings that one must take into account if one wants to become a practical preacher or if one wants to have an impact on people through the teachings at all.

[ 7 ] You see, the greatest harm in religious life today lies in the fact that people no longer take the Gospels seriously. I do not mean this in a derogatory sense; I mean that people lack the awareness that the Gospels contain a meaning that transcends sensory understanding. It is of the utmost significance to be able, through anthroposophy, to approach the Gospels anew and to say to oneself: An otherworldly content flows through the Gospels. One must understand them; one must do everything possible to truly understand them. Today, however, people merely criticize the Gospels; they do not really want to understand them, and this criticism is based largely on the fact that they do not take the content of the Gospels seriously at all, but rather treat it superficially.

[ 8 ] I must refer you to the third verse of the Gospel of John. In this third verse, one usually hears the following: “All things were made through the Word, and without the Word nothing was made that has been made.” — How much is contained in this third verse of the Gospel of John! In reality, one would have to say: All things that have come into being have come into being through the Word, and apart from the Word, nothing that has come into being has come into being. — This captures what is said in this sentence. This third sentence points with all its force to what has come into being in the world, to everything that is subject to becoming. And of that which is subject to becoming, it is said, first of all, that it is material. Everything we see as created things has come into being and is passing away. And secondly, it is said of these created and passing things that they are made through the Word, through the Logos.

[ 9 ] This sentence would not be here if it were not based on the awareness of a contrast, if it were not underpinned by the fact that in the existence of the world there is also that which has not come into being and does not pass away—namely, the eternal foundations that merely transform. In modern education, we have simply lost sight of this contrast between what has come into being on the surface and the powers lying in the depths—which Plato, for example, calls the eternal Ideas. We must presuppose these eternal Ideas as that which does not pass away and which underlies what has come into being and is passing away—that which does not exist in what has come into being and is passing away in the ordinary sense, but rather subsists.

[ 10 ] We must distinguish between existence and subsistence. That which underlies all things is the foundation—that which relates to the Father. We must truly speak to the congregation in a way that is accessible to everyone, so that we bring this Father God—as the essence of the absolutely Eternal—into the consciousness of our congregation’s children. This is not as difficult as you think. It is only difficult because today’s world is extremely sparing with its concepts. I can assure you that the people who understand this most easily are the farmers in the countryside. They grasp the matter immediately, whereas it is only the educated people with today’s system of education who do not understand it. They do not understand the matter.

[ 11 ] We can learn a great deal by looking specifically at what remains of the elemental spiritual life in the [unspoiled] human being. It is actually relatively easy to convey the highest concepts to people with an elemental soul life. These ideas are rejected only by those who have been distorted—for the most part, distorted by our schools.

[ 12 ] We must find a way to teach people, in a way that is accessible to the general public, an understanding of what is eternal in all things, and of what is transitory—that which has come into being and that which is passing away. And we must evoke the idea, by every possible means and detour, that God the Father underlies the enduring, and God the Son—Christ as the creative Logos—underlies that which is coming into being and that which is becoming. Therefore, one must also seek an understanding of God the Father prior to what has come into being, and of the work of Christ within what has come into being.

[ 13 ] Such things must be worked out again; then we will once more arrive at concepts that lie beyond mere scientific terms. But, my dear friends, you must also be able to speak about them in the right way. You do not learn this through logical speculation, for logical speculation itself suffers from the one-sidedness of working toward being accepted once and for all. Logical speculation—if it were to remain merely speculation—is the worst possible preparation for a sermon. If you wish to preach, it is not enough to prepare for the doctrinal content of the sermon; the only possible complement to this preparation of the content is meditation for the preacher himself.

[ 14 ] Anyone who wishes to deliver a sermon must first engage in meditation—that is, bring something into their consciousness that leads them into a state of deep inner feeling, so that they can feel God, the Divine, within themselves. Anyone who does not prepare themselves meditatively in this way will not be able to convey the message with the nuance it requires if they are to evoke understanding for what they have to say. You will have to speak of immortality; you will have to speak of the Fall, of Creation, of Redemption, and of Grace. However, you must not speak of immortality, the Fall, Creation, Redemption, and Grace with the consciousness you have derived from modern scientific education; rather, you must speak with the consciousness you have derived from your own inner experience of the divine presence within yourself. Then your words will be imbued with the necessary nuance you need to reach the hearts of those to whom you are to bring the truths about immortality, the Fall, Creation, Redemption, and grace. This is precisely what preachers must understand as deeply as possible. You will not attain a deeper understanding of the doctrine unless you prepare yourselves through meditation.

[ 15 ] That composure you first acquire through meditation—which leads you to be alone with your whole being, even if only for a short time—is the very composure that prepares you for the right frame of mind to read the Gospel. You must assume that only the meditative life can prepare you, on the one hand, for reading the Gospel, and on the other, for the special tone of preaching. This is what the preacher must make a habit of. One should not believe that an understanding of worship—an understanding of the proper nuance of preaching—comes through intellectual considerations or through an intellectual grasp of the Gospel’s content; rather, it comes through meditative immersion in both the spiritual and volitional elements simultaneously, which stimulates the human being—that is, the whole human being—and that is what really matters in the end.

[ 16 ] It is certainly beneficial for the modern preacher to use outstanding examples to clarify for himself what inner spiritual struggles must actually be waged if one wishes to move beyond what is absorbed today through external education—including external theological education—and what shapes one’s entire way of thinking, in order to arrive at a genuine grasp of the concept of the supersensible that has been hinted at.

[ 17 ] It is truly helpful for anyone who wants to be active in religious life today to study figures such as Newman, the English cardinal, who started out as an Anglican and who, while moving—somewhat consciously—within a more modern worldview, eventually returned to Catholicism, and was even able to rise to the rank of cardinal within Catholicism—because the Church is just waiting for people like him. It is interesting to observe the inner struggle of precisely such a figure. You see, fundamentally, Newman’s struggle began with a desire to understand Christian truths. But he could not come to terms with them. Ultimately, he found no way to understand Christian truths through modern concepts. He was honest enough not to want to settle for the mere “simple man of Nazareth” in the manner of Weinel; rather, he had within him a yearning for the supernatural. He did not find a way forward until he said to himself: Yes, at the starting point of Christianity there are not highly educated, scientifically trained people, but rather the fishermen of Galilee, and they actually understood nothing of the sayings they uttered; they uttered these sayings without logic, without being imbued with a logical understanding. And then everything that constitutes modern theology—which strives so hard to be logical, which goes as far as negation in its logic-driven criticism—actually arose from the simple words of the fishermen of Galilee. — And this is where Newman comes in, saying to himself: If logic exists, it can only be born out of illogic itself, out of that which manifests itself in such a simple way as Christianity was lived among the people who surrounded Jesus Christ in Galilee. —

[ 18 ] And this leads him to a particular conception of evolution—of the unfolding of what is experienced [religiously]—into something more elaborate. But he is now compelled to accept the entire Catholic Church, for in reality he remains stuck at the stage of the unfolding [of religious experience]. Why does he remain stuck? Because he denies the possibility that one can today, through logic, arrive at the supra-logical through contemplation. Thus, [—standing between Scylla and Charybdis—] he could run the risk of, on the one hand, falling into Scylla through a purely rationalistic interpretation, or, on the other hand, of falling into Charybdis by rejecting the rationalistic way of thinking, only to then have to accept the entire tradition and fall back into Catholicism. In fact, anyone [who thinks this way] falls back into Catholicism. You need only consider that people who cannot go along with what is appropriate to our times in order to enter into the supersensible—such as Scheler, who is characteristic of this tendency within our German intellectual tradition—fall back into Catholicism. When people seek the supersensible and reject the path that anthroposophy seeks to follow, [they fall back into Catholicism].

[ 19 ] Today, there is simply no other way to navigate between Scylla and Charybdis than to follow the anthroposophical path, to embrace anthroposophy itself as a fundamental element of religious life, in order to advance toward the supersensible truths. Then one also comes to—and this is necessary for you, because it fosters community—finding the simple, accessible form for what we cannot yet do within anthroposophy, because something else must be in place first. We still have to express ourselves [in presenting supersensible truths] too strongly through modern forms of education, because we are speaking to those who belong to the modern educational system. But if you are a group of people, then it is entirely possible to find the simple form as well, to speak to people in such a way that the high concepts of the supersensible that have been hinted at become concrete once again.

[ 20 ] I just want to suggest the following. You see, don’t be reluctant to speak to people in such a way that you tell them: Take a look at the stone, take a look at the rock crystal, take a look at a mineral object shaped like this, and you’ll be able to ask yourself: How was this mineral object formed? It was formed from the earth; you have no reason to think otherwise than that it was formed from the earth. It is a piece of the earth; the earth can create such forms—that is a piece of the earth. But now look at the plants; look at what you can always see around you. Can you imagine that the earth [alone] brings forth the plants? No; what the earth holds within itself as a seed must wait until spring comes, until the sun’s rays penetrate from outside, and when the sun’s rays lose their power, the earth, too, loses the power to bring forth plant growth. Look at plant growth, and you’ll notice that if plant growth is to survive the winter in any way, it absorbs the woody, mineral substance; it becomes a tree, which in turn loses the sprouting, budding power within its wood; it itself absorbs some of the mineral substance. The Earth could never bring forth the plant-like essence on its own; for that, what surrounds the Earth is necessary. — One must rise to a higher level to truly instill in people the awareness that the Earth could be nothing more than a rocky body if it possessed only its own forces, but that it would never possess vegetation nor be permeated by it if the Earth did not form a unity with the cosmos, if cosmic forces did not play a role and act upon the Earth. The Earth would not have a plant kingdom if the spatial heavens did not exist.

[ 21 ] And if it was possible in ancient times to teach the masses of slaves in ancient Egypt such truths as, for example, the transition from the power of the sun to the power of Sirius—if people back then could be taught that, then we need not despair that today we will be able to speak to even the simplest of people about how the Earth owes its vegetative nature to the extraterrestrial cosmos and its forces. And in this way, we free people from their inclination toward the merely earthly when we instill in them a sense of what [forces] the Earth receives from the cosmic heavens.

[ 22 ] So I believe we must work toward ensuring that, simply by observing those aspects of the plant world that are accessible to everyone, our spiritual gaze is directed toward the entire cosmos. Then we receive a powerful aid when we realize how innocent all of nature actually is, how it is impossible to speak of anything in the mineral or plant kingdoms that constitutes guilt or sin. And if we work through these concepts thoroughly, if we truly present in concrete terms the innocence of nature and the potential for human guilt, then we can bring out what in turn leads people to understand that with the human being something enters the world that cannot be found in space at all. Once human beings have understood that plants owe their existence to space and are innocent, then we have a way of realizing that what can make human beings guilty cannot come from space at all, that we are all compelled to seek the essential soul-life of the human being outside of space. We must seek this path that leads us beyond space. And you see, once we have found the path that takes us beyond space, we will find our way even further.

[ 23 ] You can see just how difficult it has become for people of the modern era to transcend space from the fact that the most intelligent people of the 19th century argued against immortality on the grounds that souls would have no place in the universe. They could not, with the concept of the soul, move beyond the spatial. One must use the concept of the soul to move beyond the spatial. And once one has reached that point, one turns one’s gaze toward the animal world and attempts to bring to life a concept derived from it—one that grips not only our imagination but also, deeply, our very being.

[ 24 ] We believe that minerals and plants cannot be guilty, but neither can they suffer as a result. Human beings must suffer, but they can also be guilty. And then we turn our attention to the animal world; it, too, cannot be guilty, but it must suffer. And when we gradually learn to [understand] repeated earthly lives—namely, when this becomes not merely a theory but a clear understanding for us, when we feel that, even if not trivially practical, there is indeed a connection between guilt and suffering that is in accordance with the laws of the universe—and we simply cannot find this connection because we direct our gaze toward innocent nature and wish to include human beings within this unity of innocent nature as well—then the great tragedy of the world becomes clear to us: that we have chained the animal world to ourselves, that the animals must suffer with us even though they cannot be guilty. This leads to the tragic realization that the animal world exists for the sake of humankind, that it must share in suffering even though it cannot be dispensed with. Reflect deeply on this concept; feel how the animal world shares in evil even though it cannot go along with it.

[ 25 ] When we form vivid conceptions—which are at the same time intuitive conceptions—of evil and wickedness in this way, we come to a connection with the world. We need only feel the tragedy of existence in the world, which consists in the fact that the animals around us suffer with us, and then we come to realize that there are duties that go beyond ordinary legal obligations. Here lies a point where you can lead people entirely beyond the immediate sensory world. For in the immediate sensory world, you find nothing other than the legal concepts that govern the sensory, external relationships between human beings. The obligation to redeem the animals arises for us from an entirely different world. We cannot do this at all in our present existence. We can do nothing in our present existence to redeem the animals that suffer for our sake. We can redeem them only if we look toward a final state of the Earth in which the laws of nature no longer prevent us from intervening in their redemption and relieving the animal world of its suffering. And so we move toward comprehending a final state of the Earth in which physics has no right to have a say. We expand what lives within us as human beings to encompass an understanding of the interconnectedness of the world.

[ 26 ] This is how we must speak to the people of today, for if we speak in terms of old religious concepts, people will object that, from a scientific perspective, none of this is possible. But we must try to find a path that science simply cannot refute. For this suffering in the animal world does indeed exist, without the animal world being at fault. And here lies the immediate transition; the possibility exists to know something of supernatural obligations—or rather, extraterrestrial obligations—of duties that can be fulfilled once the Earth has met its end, the end of its present physical state. We will be able to guide [humanity] toward an understanding of this earthly condition by appropriately transcending purely scientific thinking.

[ 27 ] But we cannot do that if we merely appeal to people’s selfishness in our sermons. And that is what has gradually taken hold in humanity and has actually made religious conviction so difficult that today, even with the best sermons, we are essentially appealing to human selfishness; and this has come about because we speak only of immortality and not of the unborn.

[ 28 ] What is the truth about immortality? Anthroposophy makes it clear. It becomes clear through knowledge. But how does today’s preacher speak about immortality? He stirs things up—look at the facts—he stirs up people’s selfish needs; in doing so, he speaks entirely to the deepest selfish impulses of the soul; and he would not reach people’s hearts at all if he were not met with the desire: “I do not want to perish with death.”—Of course, human beings do not perish with death. But this view must not arise from that desire. The preacher does, after all, stir up these desires; he does, after all, speak to desire and fear, and even if he does not do so [consciously], he does it nonetheless because that is simply what he is accustomed to. You cannot speak in the same way about life before conception. You cannot speak of life before birth from a selfish standpoint; doing so can lead people to indifference, for deep down, they do not care about it at all. Since they are experiencing this existence, they are not interested in whether they lived before. This interest must be instilled in people, and it can only be instilled by awakening in them the awareness that they have been given a mission through their earthly existence, that they are co-workers in the divine world order, which could not achieve its goal if it had to operate without the physical world. That the Divine has sent human beings down is one thing. It is entirely comprehensible that human beings experience a freedom they could not experience had they not descended into the physical body. We must present human beings as something sent down by God. Without making the concept of pre-existence clear, you will not be able to deliver a sermon that moves the whole person—and not just the person driven by desire. And this is a great shortcoming of our [contemporary] preaching: that it appeals to desire on the one hand and to fear on the other, rather than to that which presents human beings as the image of the Deity who sent them down to work in earthly existence.

[ 29 ] You see, that word that echoes down to us from ancient times—the one that plays such a major role in the Catholic Church, the Gloria—is included in the Mass between the Gospel and the Offertory. Gloria in excelsis Deo—Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men. — That is how it is translated in modern times. Now, this translation is somewhat misleading, for the concept of the Gloria is not based on the idea of being honored; rather, it is based on the same principle as the Greek concept of exusiai: it lies in shining outward, in revealing oneself. And actually, the saying means: May the divine reveal itself in the heights, and on earth its reflection is the peace of people who are of good will. — We must arrive at a new concept of “Gloria,” and then we will also return to an understanding of these things.

[ 30 ] Just think for a moment how terribly blasphemous it actually is when, in the Gospel account of the man born blind, it is translated: “Why was this man born blind? Did he sin, or did his parents?” — And the answer: “Neither he nor his parents sinned, but the works of God are to be revealed in him.” — Isn’t it blasphemous to suggest that the man born blind was healed so that people might see the works of God in him? While it is always translated that the works of God are revealed through him, the truth is that in a pre-existent life he preformed his own blindness so that God might be revealed in him.

[ 31 ] We must dispel this erroneous notion, which appears so frequently; only then will we be able to make it clear that human beings stand as the image of God, that they are here to allow the divinity to work within them. We cannot arrive at this understanding if we rely solely on the hope of a life after death and not on pre-existence. We must grasp radically that we here on earth are the continuation of our pre-existent life, not merely the beginning of a life after death, and that human minds will not find the path to selflessness if we speak only of immortality and not of pre-existence. The sermon must be imbued with these things; then there will be a possibility of reconnecting human consciousness to the supernatural; and then the rest will follow of its own accord.

[ 32 ] You see, if you want to arrive at a concept such as that of creation, then you must simply awaken in people an awareness of the following: When we look at the mineral world today, we see that the law of the conservation of matter and energy prevails within it. And this world we are observing seems to be eternal. But when you realize that this world exists only in space, and that only the minerals are derived from the earthly realm while the plants are introduced from outer space, and that with the animal something already enters from a pre-earthly state—for what is a law of nature on Earth today cannot, of course, transform an animal into a human being— if you realize that the laws of nature themselves had a beginning, then you will be able to understand that the concept of creation includes the emergence of the laws of nature, whereas today we simply extend the laws of nature forward and backward into infinity. This is how we arrive at the concept of creation. There is something worth pointing out that can provide you with proof that, when speaking to a simple mind, one can actually always find a certain understanding for the highest things. If, in my youth, one went to an Austrian farmer who had no formal schooling but had only learned to read and write at his village school, and spoke to him about nature in the way one had learned in school, he would stare at you. He could not reconcile this concept of nature with what he knew at all. You could not speak to him in the usual way—saying, “We observe nature; it produces plants and animals; it is beautiful; nature appears in the light”—and so on; you might just as well have spoken Chinese. There was an Austrian dialect poet who used the word “d’Naduar.” But when the Austrian farmer—who had only learned to read and write, who had no sense of the concept of nature as it appears in modern science—spoke of nature, he had a different conception of it. For him, “nature” was the male seed, and without this associated concept he could not understand the word “nature.” He understood that whatever lives innocently in nature, he has within himself, but in him it is overshadowed by that which can become guilty. He regarded nature as a part of himself—something that follows on from it, so to speak, when one speaks of birth—and he also held the view that at birth something else enters into human beings besides nature; that is why he called the male seed “nature”—specifically, the natural aspect associated with being born. He perceived this mysterious connection between our being born and the fact of being a work of nature.

[ 33 ] And as is the case with this striking concept, if one only looks—even when one wishes to move on to the concept of creation—one can certainly find a way to connect it to concepts that are understandable even to the simplest mind. The concept of creation can become something entirely comprehensible, but one must truly strive, with good will, to go beyond what modern education provides us. And so one gradually comes to help people understand that the creation of humankind precedes the creation of nature—that is, that humankind entered the world at a time when nature had not yet begun to act, when there was still no heredity, fertilization, and so on. One returns to a state where heredity and fertilization did not yet exist, where our present world was not yet an external world order, where the fall of the spiritual beings—who later swept humanity along with them—could take place; one returns to a state in the pre-natural era where the fall into sin was not yet a possibility for humanity.

[ 34 ] One can—and must—address these issues if one is to find substance for a sermon. It is not enough simply to present these concepts—the Fall, redemption, and so on—to the congregation in a theoretical way; rather, you must be able to present them in all possible variations and must count on them gradually taking root in people’s minds. You will see that if you rely solely on formal understanding—if you rely on mere doctrinal content rather than on varied repetition—then you will not be able to hold the congregation together. If you rely on varied repetition, then you can hold the congregation together. Then you will also lead them to an understanding of grace, then you will also open them to the possibility of grasping a new sense of freedom, and you can teach people that a person can come to develop—at least in their consciousness—concepts of innocence and the absence of evil [... [gap], freedom [... gap], and that although we can become good people inwardly through all our efforts, we can only find a connection to the world through goodness when grace is at work, when grace comes to meet us.

[ 35 ] I can only hint at this as well, because I lack the time needed to explore these matters in depth. But in short: There are ways—if only one seeks them—to move beyond the conceptual framework of today’s education into a fully human system of thought that has access to the supersensible world; and for all of this, it is absolutely necessary to allow oneself to be inspired by anthroposophy in a certain sense. People can certainly understand what is said to them if one finds the right tone by first entering into meditation oneself.

[ 36 ] In recent times, sermons have indeed been too abstract and lacking in vitality. And look, I can certainly say this to you as food for further thought—I don’t want to impose it on you as a dogma— I can only tell you this: the worst way to preach is to stick to abstractions and then become unctuous. To believe that one speaks to the heart by presenting the abstract in a deeply personal way—that is poison for the soul. When one speaks of the “simple man from Nazareth,” when one tries to preach about Christ without taking the supernatural into account—in a sense, basing everything Christian on his humanity and seeking to teach this to people by adopting a false tone of heart—then one poisons people’s hearts, for then one lives in untruth regarding that very thing which the sermon is meant to inspire.

[ 37 ] What should resonate emotionally through the sermon is the preacher’s connection to the transcendent content and impulse of the world itself, and that transcendent content and impulse is never conveyed through abstractions. The preacher must be deeply and humbly imbued with the realization that the mere exercise of logical reason is in itself already a sin, and that the practice of natural science, particularly within the modern era, kills off the religious; that we must, through religion, redeem the world from the scientific conception of nature; that it is part of the religious to overcome natural science, and that it is a commandment of Christ Jesus himself to overcome natural science, that Christ Jesus lives among us precisely for this reason, and that we express his mission to overcome natural science when we unite ourselves with him.

[ 38 ] On the one hand, we must be clear about this: Human beings must act in the world; therefore, they must sin simply by perceiving the world through their senses. We see sin as a necessity. And when we see that the pendulum—because there is rhythm in the world—must swing to the other side, toward redemption through natural science, then we recognize, without any fuss, the necessity of natural science. We will not be able to eradicate it, for we acknowledge the necessity that human beings must come into contact with Ahriman, but we must realize that the pendulum must swing to the other side. Yet we must understand the rhythm: only in a state of equilibrium can the two things work together. And in this regard, you see, I must draw your attention to something that may surprise you, but which will nevertheless have to enter your consciousness if you wish to find the necessary tone for a future sermon.

[ 39 ] You see, we actually live today in a consciousness that is a kind of continuation of the ancient, primordial Persian worldview, which was embodied in Ahriman and Ormuzd. It sees Ahriman as the evil god who opposes Ormuzd, and Ormuzd as the good god who nullifies the works of Ahriman. People do not realize that the ancient Persians held the awareness that one must follow neither Ahriman nor Ormuzd [alone], but rather their interaction. And their interplay manifests itself in a figure such as Mithras. Ormuzd is a Lucifer-like figure who, if we surrender to him, liberates us from the world, who wishes to snatch us away from heaviness and let us burn in the light. Human beings must find the path between light and heaviness, between Lucifer and Ahriman, and therefore we must have the ability to think not in terms of any dualism, but in terms of the Trinity. We must be able to say: The Persian duality of Ormuzd and Ahriman is today Lucifer and Ahriman, and Christ stands in the middle; Christ is the one who brings about balance. — Now, all religious development to date, especially theological development, has established a very pernicious equation; it has brought the figure of Christ as close as possible to that of Lucifer. It is almost a resurgence of the ancient Persian Ormuzd when one observes how Christ is spoken of today. People always think only in terms of duality—that is, evil in opposition to good. No duality can solve the world’s problems; they can be solved solely and exclusively through the Trinity. For as soon as one has duality, one has not only good and evil, but also the struggle between light and darkness—a struggle that must not end with the victory of one over the other, but must end with the harmonization of the two. That is actually what must be incorporated into the concept of Christ. It is not for nothing that Christ sits with tax collectors and sinners.

[ 40 ] You see, my dear friends, the world in which we live came into being in such a way that it was originally shaped by all the influences that acted upon the configuration we experience as the echoes of racial existence, as the echoes of individual peoples, and the like. Consider this world as it emerges from the element of birth, and consider the mission of Christ. The mission of Christ consists in overcoming all that is natural, in planting love for all humanity in place of life within the race. That which was present at the beginning of the earth—the Adamic—is to be eradicated precisely through Christ. What is specific to individual nations—national egoism—is to be overcome through Christ, through universal humanity. Salvation does not consist in working against the natural in a manner just as real as the natural itself, but rather in assimilating the natural and bringing about a balance between the purely spiritual and the natural.

[ 41 ] The concept of Christ has not yet been fully defined in its purity between Ormuzd and Ahriman, between Lucifer and Ahriman. The concept of Christ must be understood as that which leads us to harmonize the opposing poles. For universal humanity—love of humanity—is something different from what arises from families, folk traditions, races, nations, and so on. But one is not to be eradicated by the other; rather, race and the individual must be harmonized. One can only understand Christ’s mission on Earth if one knows this: God the Father is connected solely with the Eternal, not with that which has come into being and is passing away; the Christ impulse has entered into temporality because it is connected with that which has come into being and is passing away, and it transforms the temporal into the Eternal.

[ 42 ] We must learn once again to take literally what is written in the Gospels: Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. — Let us translate this into a language that can be spoken today. That which the vastness of space—heaven in the outward, spatial sense—brings forth through the stars in the plants of the earth, that which the earth itself brings forth in the minerals—that is, the entire earthly world—will pass away. But when it has passed away, when plants and stones have passed away, then—after this Earth has disappeared—that which came to Earth in Christ, that which lives on in the Word, will live on. And if Christ is received into our Word, then even after the Earth’s demise, that which is alive within us through Christ will continue to live on in time, according to the words of Paul: “Not I, but Christ in me.”

[ 43 ] We must rise to the belief that the laws of nature are not eternal, but that the Earth will come to an end, and that what exists can only continue to exist because a creative force will carry it forward even after our Earth has perished. Stone and plant will perish, but what is within us must not perish; it must be carried forward, and it can only be carried forward if Christ is within us. Only the animals will come along; we will then have to redeem them. For they are on Earth because, at the moment when the possibility of sinning entered the world, they were at a stage of development where they had to be seized by what was intended only for human beings. Before this possibility of sin entered the world, suffering could not exist in the world. Minerals and plants, as such, do not need to suffer, but minerals and plants will perish. The animals were at a stage of development where they were swept along by human beings into suffering. They must be redeemed from this once this stage of development has passed, once the Earth is no longer here. Just as our natural laws prevail today, the laws that we currently experience only within ourselves will then prevail. We cannot comprehend this unless we also know that humankind existed before the Earth.

[ 44 ] We must open people’s minds to an understanding of these things. This must resonate in our sermons. You don’t have to believe that you need to say to the congregation, in similar words, exactly what I have spoken today. But you must understand it; then it will already be alive within your sermon, even if you preach in the simplest of ways. For there is not only the tangible understanding of things—which consists of your mouth speaking and your ear listening—but there is also the intangible understanding that works from person to person.

[ 45 ] Unfortunately, I could only offer you these few hints, my dear friends, but I do hope that you have heard in my words many things that simply want to speak from within the human being. Without this will, we simply cannot move forward. It is not a matter of merely stimulating our intellect; we must stimulate the whole human being.