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Re: SV: [anthroposophy_tomorrow] Re: The Rainbow Christ

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  • dottie zold
    I was reading this lecture I shared, looking to Goethe and the rainbow and I come to the end of the lecture and I am uplifted by Rudolf Steiner s great
    Message 1 of 418 , May 1, 2010
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      I was reading this lecture I shared, looking to Goethe and the rainbow and I come to the end of the lecture and I am uplifted by Rudolf Steiner's great happiness, his great enthusiasm for this poem and mankind finding the roses on the cross! I am uplifted and smiling so hard.....I think that when I say the rainbow is the resurrection body, I am thinking it is the 'all cosmic' uplifted body....when the mineral, etc. are all glorified in Him.

       

       

      The book, Ruins (Shutt), by Anastasius Grün has been given to me today by one of our members. I have here again the same verses that I read to you some time ago to confirm the fact that this mystery, which this poem also expresses, is not merely something put forward by us, but that it comes to life again and again. Anastasius Grün, the Austrian poet, composed these poems; the eighth edition appeared in 1847. In his own manner he wrote of the progress of mankind, and I will read again today the passage I read years ago as proof of the role played by the image of the Rose Cross in evolving humanity; that is, among those who are incarnated in the new age. Anastasius Grün turns his gaze toward Palestine and other regions after having described how much confused fighting and quarreling has been spread over the earth. After he has seen and described much that causes fighting and strife he, who is a great seer in a certain way, turns to a region of the earth that he describes thus. I cannot read all of it as it would take too long, but one's eye is first turned to a part of the earth where the ploughshare is used.

      As children once were digging in a meadow
      They brought a shapeless thing of iron to light,
      It seemed too straight, too heavy for a sickle,
      For plough it was too slender and too slight.

      With toil they dragged it home as new found treasure;
      The elders see it, yet they know it not;
      They call the neighbors round within the circle,
      The neighbors see it, yet they know it not.

      There is an ancient greybeard, wan and sallow,
      Whose lifetime lingers on like tale forgot
      Into the present world of busy dealing,
      They show it to him, but he knows is not.

      Well for them all, that they have never known it,
      Else must they weep, and still must be deplored
      The folly of their fathers, long since buried,
      For what was known by no one was a sword!

      Henceforth it shall but cleave the earth as ploughshare;
      Shall point the seed-corn's path into the ground,
      The sword's new hero-deeds are peaned
      When sun-filled airs with song of lark resound.

      Once more it came to pass, that in his ploughing
      The farmer struck what seemed a piece of stone.
      And as his spade unloosed the earthy covers,
      A structure of a wondrous shape was shown.

      He calls the neighbors round within the circle;
      They look at it but still they know it not.
      Thou wise and aged one, thou'lt surely tell us?
      The greybeard looks at it, yet knows it not.

      Thus, in ploughing, something was dug up and even the aged man does not recognize it.

      Though known to none, yet with its ancient blessing
      Eternal in their breast it stands upright,
      Scatters its seed around in every roadway;
      A Cross it was, this stranger to their sight!

      They saw the fight not, and its bloodstained symbol,
      They see alone the victory and the crown,
      They saw the storm not, and the lashing tempest
      They only see the rainbow's glistening shine.

      The Cross will always be known, even in a region where it was already buried and drawn out of the earth as a cross of stone, where civilization has so withdrawn that an un-Christian culture has developed. There, Anastasius Grün wishes to say, a cross is found and men know it in their inmost breasts, even though the oldest among them fails to recognize it through tradition.

      Though known to one, yet with its ancient blessing
      Eternal in their breast it stands upright,
      Scatters its seed around on every roadway,
      A Cross it was, this stranger to their sight.

      They saw the fight not and its bloodstained symbol,
      They see alone the victory and the crown,
      They saw the storm not and the lashing tempest
      They only see the rainbow's glistening shine.

      The Cross of stone they set up in the garden;
      A venerable relic strange and old,
      Flowers of all species lift their growth above it,
      While roses climbing high the Cross enfold.

      So stands the Cross weighty with solemn meaning
      On Golgotha, amidst resplendent sheen;
      Long since 'tis hidden by its wealth of roses;
      No more, for roses, can the Cross be seen.

      But it is there! There is the Cross! There are the roses! One only learns the meaning of history when one turns one's gaze to what lives in the spiritual and pervades human evolution, when, too, one will turn one's attention to what shows us under what auspices, under what insignia things enter world history. I think that one can feel the deeper connection between what we have characterized for later times and what has been characterized in the ideal of the Knights Templar and their fate in the world at the beginning of the fourteenth century.



      "Hence only by means of love can we give real help for karma to work out in the right way." Rudolf Steiner


    • val2160
      Those who don t feel this Love By Rumi Those who don t feel this Love pulling them like a river, those who don t drink dawn like a cup of spring water or take
      Message 418 of 418 , May 19, 2010
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        Those who don't feel this Love

        By Rumi


        Those who don't feel this Love
        pulling them like a river,
        those who don't drink dawn
        like a cup of spring water
        or take in sunset like supper,
        those who don't want to change,

        let them sleep.

        This Love is beyond the study of theology,
        that old trickery and hypocrisy.
        If you want to improve your mind that way,

        sleep on.

        I've given up on my brain.
        I've torn the cloth to shreds
        and thrown it away.

        If you're not completely naked,
        wrap your beautiful robe of words
        around you,

        and sleep.
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