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26 - Thus Spake Zarathustra - Friedrich Nietzsche · The Philosophy Insights Collection

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  Part two, Chapter twenty six. The priests, And one day Zarathustra made
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  a sign to his disciples and spake these words unto them. Here are priests,
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  but although they are mine, enemies pass them quietly and with sleeping swords.
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  Even among them there are heroes. Many of them have suffered too much,
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  so they want to make others suffer. Bad enemies are they? Nothing
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  is more revengeful than their meekness. And readily doth he soil himself who toucheth
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  them. But my blood is related to theirs, and I want withal to
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  see my blood honored in theirs. And when they had passed, a pain
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  attack Zarathustra. But not long had he struggled with the pain when he began
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  to speak. Thus it moveth my heart for those priests. They also go
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  against my taste. But that is the smallest matter unto me, since I
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  am among men. But I suffer and have suffered with them. Prisoners are
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  they unto me? And stigmatized ones. He whom they call savior put them
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  in fetters, And fetters are false virtues and fatuous words. Oh that some
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  one would save them all from their savior. On an isle they once thought
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  they had landed when the sea tossed them about. But behold it was a
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  slumbering monster. False virtues and fatuous words. These are the worst monsters for
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  mortals. Long slumbereth and waiteth the faith that is in them. But at
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  last it cometh and awaketh, and devouereth and engulfeth whatever hath built tabernacles upon
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  it. Oh, just look at those tabernacles which those priests have built themselves
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  churches they call their sweet smelling caves. Oh, that false fied light,
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  that mustified air, where the soul may not fly aloft to its height.
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  But so enjoineth their belief on your knees up the stair, ye sinners.
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  Verily, rather would I see a shameless one than the distorted eyes of their
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  shame and devotion? Who created for themselves such caves and penitent stairs? Was
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  it not those who sought to conceal themselves and were shamed under the clear sky?
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  And only when the clear sky looketh again through ruined roofs, and down
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  upon grass and red poppies on ruined walls, while I again turn my heart
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  to the seats of this God they called God, that which opposed and afflicted
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  them. And verily there was much hero spirit in their worship, and they
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  knew not how to love their God otherwise, And by nailing men to the
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  cross as corpses they thought to live in black draped they there corpses. Even
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  in their talk? Do I still fill the evil flavor of charnel houses?
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  And he who liveth nigh unto them, liveth nigh unto blackpools? Wherein the
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  toad singeth this song with sweet gravity? Better songs would they have to sing
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  for me to believe in their savior? More like save ones? Would his
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  disciples have to appear unto me naked? Would I like to see them?
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  For beauty alone should preach penitence. But whom would that disguised affliction convince?
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  Verily, their saviors themselves came not from freedom and from freedom seventh heaven.
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  Verily, they themselves never trod the carpets of knowledge of defects. Did the
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  spirit of those saviors consist? But into every defect had they put their illusion,
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  their stock gap, which they called God. In their pity was their
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  spirit drowned. And when they swelled and over swelled with pity, there always
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  floated to the surface a great folly. Eagerly and with shouts drove they their
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  flock o'er their foot bridge, as if there were but one footbridge to the
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  future. Verily, those shepherds also were still of the flock. Small spirits
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  and spacious souls had those shepherds. But my brethren, what small domains have
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  even the most spacious souls? Hitherto ben? Characters of blood? Did they
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  write on the way they went? And their folly taught? The truth is
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  proved by blood. But blood is the very worst witness to truth. Blood
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  tainteth the purest teaching, and turneth it into delusion and hatred of heart.
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  And when a person goeth through fire for his teaching, what doth that prove?
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  It? Is more? Verily, when out of one's own burning cometh
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  one's own teaching, sultry heart and cold head. Where these meet, there
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  ariseth the blusterer the savior. Greater ones verily have there been, and higher
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  born ones than those whom the people call saviors, those rapturous blusterers, And
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  by still greater ones than any of the saviors. Must ye be saved,
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  my brethren, if ye would find the way to freedom? Never yet hath
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  there been a superman naked. Have I seen both of them, the greatest
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  man and the smallest man, all too similar? Are they still to each
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  other? Verily, even the greatest found I all too human. Thus spake
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  Zarathustra, end of Chapter twenty six,