The Myth of the Blood
Myth is the generative power and creative life itself; it is the source of all values and value systems, the origin of all historical meaning, and the creative unity of all deeds.
Rosenberg was not taken so seriously by church representatives because he proclaimed any ideas that contradicted the value systems of the denominations, or because he made some historically provocative remarks on European church history, but because he proceeded with utmost honesty and consistency to the point where a decision had to be made.
The struggle over the "myth" is not about this or that value, about this or that historical fact, but about value itself and the meaning of human-historical existence in general.
All historical-critical pronouncements on the "myth," whether they originate from theological or non-theological quarters, whether they appear in the guise of scientific innocence or intellectual arrogance, can only elicit a yawn from an attentive and honest reader of this book.
It must be acknowledged that voices within the Protestant camp have more than once been raised that found this kind of "critique" of the whole—juxtaposing critical objections to historical details—shameful.
From the clergy of the Church, confused by the continued study of Scholasticism, nothing but hypocritical "objectivity" could be expected.
Some Protestant preachers were weak enough to succumb to this pseudo-historical critique.
However, many recognized that the “myth” posed a question to their church that could only be answered from within the church itself.
The reaction to the “myth” deserves to be taken seriously only where it is theological: for only the theological answer does justice to the fact that Rosenberg questions the church itself, not through negations of a liberal style, but by demonstrating the creative unity from which humanity truly lives.
The theological answer at least recognizes the level on which Rosenberg’s work operates.
To that Schleswig-Holstein pastor who, with refreshing naiveté, contrasts the myth of man's blood with the message of faith in the blood of Jesus Christ, Rosenberg is misguided, but he has correctly assessed the rank of his work.
“He knows,” he says of Rosenberg, "that there is a truth that is superior to all other facts, a highest value by which all other values are measured, that there is a power that is the primal source of all power and all life, an ultimate meaning and interpretation of all being, which has unconditional validity."
To speak theologically means to go to the whole.
The theological answer does justice to Rosenberg at least insofar as it acknowledges that his work goes to the whole.
One cannot meaningfully respond theologically to an Enlightenment thinker because he does not attack on a level corresponding to theology.
The difference between Voltaire and Rosenberg is not one of degree, but of nature.
The witty satirist Voltaire places himself beyond all denominations and nations; Rosenberg speaks from a historical perspective, in real existence.
He does not feign a timeless superiority of reason that does not exist; he does not speak abstractly, but responsibly as a German from a specific point in German history.
Like Nietzsche, Rosenberg comes historically from German Protestantism—the phenomenon incomprehensible to the theologian lies in the fact that neither the Thuringian nor the Baltic German personally shows the slightest contact with the Christian spirit.
One often finds personal detachment from Christianity portrayed as the result of severe inner struggles.
A convincing account of such struggles has yet to be given; in most cases, the idea of such struggles seems to stem merely from a vague sense of obligation that they must actually exist.
However, it is only a legend invented by theologians that placing oneself outside the church must be connected with any kind of struggle and anguish.
A large number of intellectually active and socially engaged Germans live outside the church with complete naturalness.
"𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦..."
This quote from Nietzsche's "Ecce Homo" expresses a possibility that has remained all too unknown in theologized Germany, and which is high time to take note of.
It has sometimes been suggested that the author of "The Myth" was somehow influenced by Nietzsche.
In truth, Nietzsche had no part in the development of "The Myth," just as German Romanticism had no influence on it; Rosenberg's intellectual liberators were exclusively Goethe and Schopenhauer.
Since Frederick II, the Hohenstaufen, there have always been great Germans who, unaware of each other, led free lives outside all ecclesiastical constraints.
People spoke of an "anima naturaliter christiana", a "natural christian spirit", and independent minds were labeled as "heretics."
𝙄𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣 "𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙢𝙖 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙖" 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙣𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 𝙂𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙘𝙝 𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.
𝙊𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙘𝙝 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙖𝙨 "𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙨."
The Christian epoch was a world-historical episode.
𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣; 𝙞𝙩 𝙣𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙨.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙜'𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙫𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙙𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙪𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙩.
𝙉𝙤 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙢𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩, 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙪𝙥 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩 "𝙈𝙮𝙩𝙝," 𝙨𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮.
The book against which the apologists of the churches preached was experienced, fiery, sustained by a transpersonal conviction, and therefore captivating and compelling.
What opposed it everywhere lacked the soul-stirring tone.
Against the experienced idea stood the unexperienced dogma, against myth stood "The Word," against the certainty of faith the security of the institution.
Nevertheless, the unique excitement surrounding "Myth" as a symptom is of great significance.
𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮: 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙚𝙧𝙖 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙡𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙣.
Previously, the Church claimed the right to measure everything that happened against itself; now a new standard has been established: the reality of the German people and their history.
It is not we who must answer to the Church, but the Church that must answer to us.
This is the crucial insight that every reader of "Myth" must reach if they do not allow themselves to be captivated by a mysterious "word" that demands the sacrifice of their reason.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙘 𝙨𝙪𝙗𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚, 𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙉𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙝; 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙧𝙩; 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮, 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚.
There is no choice: either one recognizes what the world and life everywhere demonstrate—that all greatness is brought forth by humankind through the grace of its blood, that the history of every people is a great unity and that the individual must find their rightful place within this unity—or one seeks to derive the highest from a revealed, racially unbound word and thus immediately finds oneself entangled in intractable difficulties, especially when it comes to distinguishing this highest from the lesser.
The utter confusion into which theological thought falls as soon as it confronts the realities of life and history (theology is not a discipline of faith, but of discernment—it needs it!), has become fully visible for the first time through Rosenberg's decisive thinking.
By placing the highest value at the center, myth has forced theology onto a battlefield that is highly unfavorable for it.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙫𝙖𝙡𝙪𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙢𝙪𝙡𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮 𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨, 𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩.
𝙒𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙚.
Under theological conditions, however, this concept loses its applicability.
The highest value, in particular, cannot be "revealed" but must originate from within the individual; the other values follow organically from it.
If, on the other hand, a revelation is accepted, then the historical world falls apart.
The sacrifice of reason to the demands of revelation simultaneously means renouncing the understanding of history.
Theological literature on "myth" reveals that, for the first time, the apologists of the denominations find themselves in a predicament.
They attempt to conceal, through loud pronouncements, the fatal fact that they have not yet found the point from which to respond.
Such a point will never be found because none exists.
The traditional categories of apologetics shatter before a mode of thinking that is neither Enlightenment-based and negating nor Romantic-constructive, but rather operates within realities.
𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙮 𝙚𝙭𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙮𝙚𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙩𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛.
𝙄𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨.
𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙚𝙡𝙪𝙙𝙚 𝙞𝙩.
𝙄𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙮𝙩𝙝 𝙤𝙛 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙗𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩 𝙥𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙤𝙥𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙞𝙩𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛, 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙞𝙩.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙎𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙣𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙣𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙖𝙡, 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚; 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙖𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨, 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙨.
𝙋𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙢 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚; 𝙞𝙣 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙢𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡, 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚.
𝘼 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮, 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.
𝙄𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙗𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛; 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙚𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙊𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙙𝙚.
𝙉𝙤 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙡𝙚𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙡𝙙; 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙗𝙟𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜.
𝘽𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙬𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙖𝙮, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝.
It has never been truly understood what it means that Rosenberg rejects not only the dogmas of the Christian churches, but all dogma formation.
Through the "myth," not only is the era of any Enlightenment and liberal argumentation against Christianity and the Church brought to an end, not only is any attempt at a "romantic" restoration of the Middle Ages rendered impossible, but it fundamentally alters the entire situation in which Christianity can even be discussed in the future.
How childish it seems to speak of a new "religion of reason" in the face of such a revolution in thinking, and to continue to pit "revelation" against "individual reason"!
The historical thinking that Rosenberg applies with ultimate consistency is not the thinking of 19th-century historical biblical criticism.
The author of "Myth" is not a descendant of Ludwig Feuerbach and David Friedrich Strauss, but the founder of a new understanding of human-historical existence.
He proclaims neither a new dogma nor a new institution, but speaks from the certainty of a new faith in the eternal, reality-creating powers.
It borders on the comical when a theological reader believes they can conclude that Rosenberg presents us with liberal content in mythical garb.
Even the historical powers whose time had passed still attempted to force the new into the thought patterns of the obsolete, in order to make it appear harmless, at least for a short time.
But such tricks no longer work against a sincerity that simply states what is.
Rosenberg only speaks of what he has experienced; his instinct for reality enables him to distinguish the essential from the inessential and prevents him from losing himself in dialectical justifications of what has been handed down and merely exists.
For him, faith is not just any kind of acceptance of truth, but the soul's relationship to that which is active in the creative depths and moves in a formative way.
Faith is a feeling for reality.
𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮, 𝙖 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙚𝙧𝙖 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙣—𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 "𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙮𝙩𝙝 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 20𝙩𝙝 𝘾𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙮."
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙟𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙨𝙚 "𝙢𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙨," 𝙙𝙤𝙜𝙢𝙖𝙨, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙡𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠, 𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮, 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙙, 𝙮𝙚𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙮 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙡𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.
𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙜'𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙘-𝙂𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙨.
One can only speak of a process shrouded in the mystery of creative life in hints and allusions.
However powerful the language of "myth" may become when it comes to portraying historical characters and institutions, it is restrained wherever it concerns the new faith.
This reveals the difference between a mere literary figure and a writer who speaks and acts on a historical mission: anyone who, without touching hidden realities, seeks to give expression to what moves their time is bound not only to go astray but will also betray themselves through the loud tone in which they speak of what they consider to be nascent life; whereas the one who truly sees what is about to come becomes involuntarily quiet (as at the cradle of a newborn).
Theological critics of "Myth" lacked any willingness to recognize how reservedly Rosenberg speaks of the essential.
Instead of treating his statements as expressions of faith, they treated them as ready-made, polished formulas; instead of seeing them as hints of an inexhaustible content, they took them as dogmatic pronouncements.
This is the ultimate consequence of the habit of speaking dogmatically about faith: that one no longer senses true faith when encountered.
None of the Christian churches today possesses the openness to receive and embrace living faith that once made the Church a historical power.
The sense of reality of a tremendous movement has broken through the barriers that the churches had erected in the Christian West against the spiritual eruptions of European nations.
Once, the Franciscan movement in Italy flowed into the Roman Catholic Church; once, the Pietist movement in Germany renewed Protestantism.
𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙮, 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙣𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙤𝙜𝙢𝙖, 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙨.
𝙄𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙬 𝙤𝙛 𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙨, 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙟𝙚𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝-𝘽𝙤𝙡𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙮; 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙖𝙙𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙮—𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚.
The churches have abandoned the nations.
Such defeats cannot be overcome by spiritual powers.
In this context, the struggle over the "myth" reveals itself as an event of symbolic significance.
The apologists of the Protestant Church believed they could perceive and combat Rosenberg as a lone figure, and "refuted" the myth of blood as a new nationalist religion based on old dogmas and institutions.
This entire intellectual game is merely a superficial exercise; something entirely different has taken place in the depths of reality.
The theology only appeared to be attacking an individual; in truth, one sensed that it was not merely a single person speaking from subjective authority and presenting a self-invented "religion of reason," but that a new age had taken up residence.
For the first time, the Christian Church truly finds itself, not just in form, on the defensive.
𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 "𝙢𝙮𝙩𝙝 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 20𝙩𝙝 𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙮": 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙒𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙀𝙪𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙉𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙯𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙚, 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙜𝙣𝙞𝙯𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙂𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚.
The total collapse of 1918 had to mean the end of German national identity unless a breakthrough to a new form of existence occurred.
Only a miracle could still save the German spirit.
This miracle was accomplished through the faith that the World War had kindled in Adolf Hitler and a few other courageous men.
The German people will always be grateful to the man who, in a politically hopeless situation, wrote the words:
"𝘼𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙬𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙂𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮'𝙨 𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚: 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙚, 𝙩𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙, 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙙, 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙩𝙝, 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝙪𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙪𝙨.
𝙈𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙘𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙜𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙖𝙡, 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙢, 𝙣𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙗𝙚𝙨, 𝙙𝙮𝙣𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙡 𝙨𝙪𝙗𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙩𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛, 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙩 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙚"
~𝘼𝙡𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙜~
(𝙈𝙮𝙩𝙝, 𝙥. 85).
~Alfred Baeumler~
Alfred Rosenberg und der Mythus Des. 20 Jahrhunderts. Chapter 12, Page 72.
Hoheneichen Verlag München 1943.
