Donate books to help fund our work. Learn more→

The Rudolf Steiner Archive

a project of Steiner Online Library, a public charity

Origin of Suffering, Origin of Evil, Illness and Death
GA 55

13 December 1906, Berlin

III. What Do We Understand by Illness and Death

Today our subject is one that undoubtedly concerns all human beings, for the words “illness” and “death” express something which enters in every life, often as an uninvited guest, often too in a vexing, frustrating, frightening guise, and death presents itself as the greatest riddle of existence; so that when anyone has solved the question of its nature he has also solved that other question—the nature of life. Frequently we hear it said that death is an unsolved riddle—a riddle which no-one will ever solve. People who speak thus have no idea how arrogant these words are; they have no idea that there does exist a solution to the riddle which, however, they do not happen to understand. Today, when we are to deal with such an all-embracing and important subject, I beg you particularly to bear in mind how impossible it is for us to do more than answer the above question: “What do we understand by illness and death?” Hence we cannot go into detail where such things as illness and health are concerned, but must confine ourselves to the essential question: How do we arrive at an understanding of these two important problems of our existence?

The most familiar answer to this question concerning the nature of death, one that has held good for centuries but today has little importance attached to it by the majority of educated people, is contained in St. Paul's words: “For the wages of sin is death”. As we have said in previous lectures, for many centuries these words were in a way a solution of the riddle of death. Today those who think in modern terms will not be able to make anything of such an answer; they would be mystified by the idea that sin—something entirely moral and having to do only with human conduct—could be the cause of a physical fact or should be supposed to have anything to do with the nature of illness and death.

Perhaps it will be helpful if we refer to the present utter lack of understanding of the text “the wages of sin is death”. For Paul and those who lived in his day did not attribute at all the same meaning to the word “sin” that is done by the philistine of today. Paul did not think of sin as being a fault in the ordinary sense nor one of a deeper kind; he understood sin to be anything proceeding from selfishness and egoism. Every action is sin that has selfishness and egoism as its driving force—in contrast to what springs from positive, objective impulses—and the fact that the human being has become independent and conscious of self pre-supposes egoism and selfishness. This must be recognised when we make a deep study of the way in which a spirit such as that of Paul thinks.

Whoever is not content with a merely superficial understanding of both Old and New Testament records but penetrates really to their spirit, knows that a quite definite method of thinking—one might call it that of innate philosophy—forms the undercurrent of these records. The undercurrent is something of this kind: All living creatures in the world are directed towards a determined goal. We come across lower beings who have a perfectly neutral attitude towards pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow. We then find how life evolves, something being bound up with it. Let those who shudder at the word teleology realise that here we have no thought-out theory but a simple fact—the whole kingdom of living beings right up to man is moving towards a definite goal, a summit of the living being, which shows itself in the possibility of personal consciousness.

The initiates of the Old and New Testaments looked down to the animal kingdom; they saw the whole kingdom striving towards the advent of a free personality, which would then be able to act out of its own impulses. With the essential being of such a personality is connected all that makes for egoistic, selfish action. But a thinker like St. Paul would say: If a personality who is able to act egoistically lives in a body, then this body must be mortal. For in an immortal body there could never live a soul who had independence, consciousness, and consequently egoism. Hence a mortal body goes together with a soul having consciousness of personality and a one-sided development of the personality towards impulses to action. This the Bible calls “sin” and thus Paul defines death as the “wages of sin”. Here indeed you see that we have to modify certain biblical sayings because in the course of centuries they have become inverted. And if we do modify them, not by altering their meaning but by making it clear that we change the present theological meaning back to its original one, we see that we often find a very profound understanding of the matter, not far removed from what today we are once again able to grasp. This is mentioned in order to make our position clear.

But the thinkers, the searchers after a world-conception, have in all ages been occupied with the question of death, which for thousands of years we may find answered in apparently the most diverse ways. We cannot embark upon an historical survey of these solutions; hence let us mention here two thinkers only, that you may see how even present-day philosophers cannot contribute anything of consequence about the question. One of these thinkers is Schopenhauer.

You all know the pessimistic trend of his thinking, and whoever has met with the sentence: “Life is a precarious affair and I have decided to spend my life to ponder it”, will understand how the only solution Schopenhauer could arrive at was that death consoles us for life, life for death;—that life is an unpleasant affair and would be unbearable were we not aware that death ends it. If we are afraid of death we need only convince ourselves that life is not any better than death and that nothing is determined by death.—This is the pessimistic way in which he thinks, which simply leads to what he makes the Earth-spirit say: “You wish that new life should always be arising; if that were so, I would need more room.” Schopenhauer therefore is to a certain extent clear that for life to propagate, for it to go on bringing forth fresh life, it is necessary for the old to die to make room for the new. Further than this Schopenhauer has nothing of weight to bring forward, for the gist of anything else that he says is contained in those few words.

The other thinker is Eduard von Hartmann. Von Hartmann in his last book has dealt with the riddle of death, and says: When we look at the highest evolved being we find that, after one or two new generations, a man no longer understands the world. When he has become old he can no longer comprehend youth; hence it is necessary for the old to die and the new again to come to the fore.—In any case you will find no answer here that could bring us nearer to an understanding of the riddle of death.

We will therefore contribute to the present-day world-conceptions what spiritual science—or anthroposophy, as we call it today—has to say about the causes of death and illness. In so doing, however, one thing will have to be made clear—that spiritual science is not so fortunate as the other sciences as to be able to speak in a definite manner about every subject. The modern scientist would not understand that when speaking of illness and death a distinction has to be made between animal and man; and that if the question in our lecture today is to be understood we must limit ourselves to these phenomena in human beings. Since living beings have not only their abstract similarity to one another, but each one has his own nature and individuality, much that is said today will be applicable also to the animal kingdom, perhaps even to the plants. But in essentials we shall be speaking about men, and other things will be drawn upon merely by way of illustration.

If we want to understand death and illness in human beings we must above all consider how complicated human nature is in the sense of spiritual science; and we must understand its nature in accordance with the four members—first the outwardly visible physical body, secondly the etheric or life body, then the astral body, and fourthly the human ego, the central point of man's being. We must then be clear that in the physical body the same forces and substances are present which are in the physical world outside; in the etheric body there lies what calls these substances to life, and this etheric body man possesses in common with the whole plant-kingdom. The astral body which man has in common with the animals is the bearer of the whole life of feeling—of desire, pleasure and its opposite, of joy and pain. It is only man who has the ego and this makes him the crown of earthly creation.

In contemplating man as physical organism we must be aware that within this physical organism the other three members are working as formative principles and architects. But the formative principle of the physical organism works only in part in physical man, in another part is active essentially the etheric body, yet in another the astral body, again in a further part man's ego is active. To spiritual science men consist from the physical side of bones, muscles, those members that support man and give him a form sufficiently firm to move about on the earth. In the strictest sense of spiritual science these things alone are reckoned as belonging to the members which come into being through the physical principle. To them are added the actual sense-organs, where we have to do with physical contrivances—in the eye with a kind of camera obscura, in the ear with a very complicated musical instrument. It is a question here of what the organs are built from. They are built by the first principle. On the other hand all the organs connected with growth, propagation, digestion and so on, are not built simply in accordance with the physical principle, but with that of the etheric or life body, which permeates the physical organs as well. Only the structure built-up in accordance with physical law is in the care of the physical principle, the processes of digestion, propagation and growth, however, being an affair of the etheric principle. The astral body is creator of the whole nervous system, right up to the brain and the fibres which run to the brain in the form of sense-nerve fibres. Finally the ego is the architect of the circulatory system of the blood. If, therefore, in the true sense of spiritual science we have to do with a human organism, it is plain to us that even within the physical organism these four members are blended in a man like four distinct dissimilar beings who have been made to work together. These things which jointly compose the human organism have quite different values, and we shall estimate their significance for men if we look into the way in which the development of the individual members is connected with the human being.

Today we shall speak more from the physiological standpoint of the work of the physical principle in the human organism. This work is accomplished in the period from birth to the change of teeth. At that time the physical principle works upon the physical body in the same way as, before the birth of a child, the forces and substances of the mother's organism work upon the embryo. In the physical body from the seventh year until puberty, the working of the etheric body is paramount, and, from puberty on, that of the forces anchored in the astral body. Thus we have the right conception of man's development when we think of the human being as enclosed within the mother's body up to the moment of birth; with birth he, as it were, pushes back the maternal body and his senses become free, so that it is then possible for the outer world to begin having its effect on the human organism. The human being thrusts a sheath away, and his development is understood only when we grasp that something that resembles a physical birth takes place in spiritual life at the changing of the teeth. At about the seventh year the human being is actually born a second time; that is to say, his etheric body is born to free activity just as his physical body is at the moment of physical birth. As before birth the mother's body works on the human embryo, up to the change of teeth spiritual forces of the cosmic ether in a similar way work upon the etheric body of the human being, and about the seventh year these forces are thrust back just as the maternal body is at the time of birth. Up to the seventh year the etheric body is as if latent in the physical body, and about the time the teeth are changed what happens to the etheric body can be compared to the igniting of a match. It is bound up with the physical body, but now comes to its own free, independent activity. The signal for this free activity of the etheric body is indeed the change of teeth. For anyone who has a deeper insight into nature this change of teeth holds a quite special place. In a human being up to his seventh year we have to do with the free working of the physical principle in the physical body; but united with it and not yet delivered from their spiritual sheaths are the etheric principle and astral principle.

If we study the human being up to his seventh year we find that he contains a great deal of what is founded on heredity, which he has not built up with his own principle but has inherited from his ancestors. To this belongs what are called the milk teeth. Only the teeth that come with the change of teeth are the creation of the child's own principle, which physically has the task of forming firm supports. What is expressed in the teeth is working within up to the time they change; it comes, as it were, to a head and produce in the teeth the hardest part of those members that give support, because it still has bound up within it as bearer of growth the etheric or life body.

After the casting off of this principle, the etheric body gains its freedom and works upon the physical organs up to the time of puberty, when a sheath, the outer astral sheath, is thrust away as the maternal sheath is thrust away at birth. The human being at puberty has his third birth, this time in an astral sense. The forces that were working in connection with the etheric body now come to a culmination with their creative activity in man by bringing him his sex maturity, with its organs and capacity for propagation. As in the seventh year the physical principle comes to maturity in the teeth, creating in them the last hard organs, whereby the etheric body, the principle of growth, becomes free, in like manner the moment the astral principle is free it sets up the greatest concentration of impulses, desires, for the outer expressions of life, in so far as we have to do with physical nature. As we have the physical principle concentrated in the teeth, the principle of growth is thus concentrated in puberty. Then the astral body, the sheath of the ego, is free and the ego works upon the astral body.

The man of culture in Europe does not follow simply his impulses and desires; he has purified them and transformed them into moral perceptions and ethical ideals. Compare a savage to an average European, or perhaps to a Schiller or Francis of Assisi, and it may be said that the impulses of these men have been purified and transformed by their ego. Thus we can say that there are always two parts of this astral body, one arising out of original tendencies, and the other which the ego itself has brought forth. We understand the work of the ego only when we are clear that a man is subject of re-incarnation—to repeated lives on earth—that he brings with him through birth in four different bodies the outcome and the fruits of former earth-lives, which are the measure of his energy and forces for the coming life. One man—because earlier he has brought things to this point—is born with a great deal of energy in life, with forces strong to transform his astral body; another will soon grow weak. When we are able to investigate clairvoyantly how the ego begins to work freely on the astral body and to gain mastery over the desires, impulses and passions, then—if we are able to estimate the amount of energy brought by the ego—we might say: this amount suffices for the ego to work on the transformation for such and such a time and no more. For every human being who has reached puberty possesses a certain amount of energy from which can be estimated when he will have transformed all that comes from his astral body, according to the forces that has been apportioned to him in his life. What man in his heart and mind (Gemüt) transformed and purified, maintains itself. So long as this amount lasts he lives at the cost of his self-maintaining astral body. Once this is exhausted he can summon-up no more courage to transform fresh impulses—in short he has no more energy to work upon himself. Then the thread of life is broken, and this must be broken in accordance with the measure apportioned to each human being. The time has then arrived when the astral body has to draw its forces from the principle of human life lying nearest to it, namely, from the etheric body, the time when the astral body lives at the expense of the force stored up in the etheric body. This comes to expression in the human being when his memory, his creative imaginative force, gradually disappears.

We have often heard here how the etheric body is the bearer of creative imagination, of memory and of all that we call hope and courage in life. When these feelings have acquired a lasting quality they cling to the etheric body. They are then drawn upon by the astral body, and after the astral body has lived in this way at the expense of the etheric body and has sucked up all it had to give, the creative forces of the physical body begin to be consumed by the astral body. When these are consumed, the life-force of the physical body disappears, the body hardens, the pulse becomes slow. The astral body finally feeds upon this physical body too, deprives it of its force; and when it has thus consumed it there is no longer any possibility for the physical body to be maintained by the physical principle.

If the astral body is to reach the point of being free, so that it becomes part of the life and work of the ego, it is then necessary that in the second half of life this emancipated astral body—once the measure of its work being exhausted—should consume its sheaths just as they were formed. In this way the individual life is created out of the ego.

The following is given as an illustration. Imagine you have a piece of wood and that you set it on fire; were the wood not constituted as it is you would be unable to do so. Flames leap out of the wood, at the same time consuming it. It is in the nature of a flame to get free of the wood and then to consume the mother-ground from which it springs. Now the astral body is born three times in this way, consuming its own foundations as the flame consumes the wood. The possibility for individual life arises through the consuming of foundations. The root of individual life is death, and were there no death there could not be any conscious individual life. We understand death only by seeking to know its origin; and we form a concept of life by recognising its relation to death. In a similar way we learn to know the nature of illness, which throws still more light on the nature of death. Every illness is seen to be in some way a destroyer of life.

Now what is illness? Let us be clear what happens when a man as a living being confronts the rest of nature. With every breath, with every sound nourishment and light that he takes up into himself, a man enters into a mutual relation with the nature all around him. If you study the matter closely you will find, without being clairvoyant, that outside things actually form and build the physical organs. When certain animals migrate in dark caverns, in time their eyes atrophy. Where there is no light there can no longer be eyes susceptible to light; vice versa, eyes susceptible to light can be formed only where there is light. For this reason Goethe says that the eye is formed by the light for the light. Naturally the physical body is built in accordance with the ways of its inner architect. Man is a physical being and outer substances are the materials out of which—in harmony with the inner architect—the whole man is built. Then will the relation of individual forces and substances give us a very different picture. Those who have had the true mystic's deeper insight into these matters will have particularly much to tell us here. For Paracelsus the whole external world is one great explanation of the human organism, and a man is like an extract of the whole external world. When we see a plant, in accordance with Paracelsus we may say: In this plant is an organism conforming to law, and there is something in man which, in the healthy or the sick organism, corresponds to this plant. Hence Paracelsus calls a cholera patient, for example, an “arsenicus”, and arsenic is to him the cure for cholera. Thus there exists a relation between each of man's organs and what is around him in nature; we need only take a natural substance, give it human form, and we have man. The single letters of an alphabet are set out in the whole of nature, and we have man if we put them together. Here you get a notion of how the whole of nature works upon man, and how he is called upon to piece his being together out of nature. Strictly speaking, everything in us is drawn from nature outside and taken up into the process of life. When we understand the secret of bringing the external forces and substance to life, we shall be able to form a concept of the nature of illness.

We touch here on ground where it is difficult for educated men of today to understand that there are many spheres in medicine which work in a nebulous way. What a suggestive effect it has in a present-day gathering when someone skilled in nature-healing mentions the word “poison”. What is a poison and how does anything work unnaturally in the human organism? Whatever you introduce into the human organism works in accordance with the laws of nature, and it is a mystery how anyone can speak as if it could work in the body in any other way. Then what is a poison? Water is a strong poison if you consume it by the bucketful in a short time; and what today is poison could have the most beneficial effect if rightly administered. It depends always on the quantity, and under which circumstances, one takes a substance into oneself; in itself, there is no poison.

In Africa there is a tribe who employ a certain breed of dog for hunting. But there is a fly in those parts carrying a poison deadly to the dogs that they sting. Now these savages of the Zambesi river have found a way of dealing with this sting. They take the pregnant dogs to a district where there is an abundance of tsetse flies and let these animals be bitten, choosing the time when they are just going to whelp, with the result that the puppies are immune and can be used for hunting.

Something happens here which is very important for the understanding of life—a poison is taken up into a life process, where a descending line passes over in an ascending one, in such a way that the poison becomes a substance inherent in the organism. What is thus taken from external nature strengthens us and is of use to us.

Spiritual science shows us that in this way the whole human organism is built up—if we like to put it so, simply out of things that were originally poisons. The foods you enjoy today have been made edible by their harmful effects being overcome through a recurrent similar process. We are all the stronger for having thus taken such substances in us; and we make ourselves defenseless against outer nature by rejecting them.—In regions where medicine is founded on occultism, the doctor throws his whole personality into the process. There are cures, for example, for which the doctor administers to himself some kind of snake poison in order to use his saliva as a means to heal bites from that species of snake. He introduces the poison into his own life-process, thereby making himself the bearer of healing forces; he grows strong, and so strengthens others to resist the poison in question.

All that is most harmless in the organism has arisen in this way and the organism has need of the incorporation into it of the external world—of nature; but then it must also be possible for the matter to swing over to the other side like a pendulum. The possibility is always there when a man is exposed to such substances—and at all times he is so exposed—that the effects of the remedy are reversed. The organism is strengthened to resist the remedy the moment it is strong enough to absorb the substance. It is impossible to avoid illness if we wish for health. All possibility of strengthening ourselves against outside influences rests on our being able to have diseases, to become ill. Illness is the condition of health; this development is an absolute reality. It belongs to the very nature and condition of health that a man is obliged to acquire his strength. What survives the beat of the pendulum contains the fruit of immunity from sickness—even from death.

Whoever goes further into these things will indeed gain some kind of understanding of the nature of illness and of death. If we wish to be strong, if we wish for health, then as a preliminary condition we must accept illness into the bargain. If we want to be strong we must arm ourselves against weakness by taking the weakness into us and transforming it into strength. When we grasp this in a living way we shall find illness and death comprehensible. These concepts will be brought to mankind by spiritual science. Today this may well speak to the understanding of many people, but when the understanding has fully accepted the matter it will bring about in man a deep, harmonious mood of soul which will then become the wisdom of life.

Have you not heard that it is possible for anthroposophical truths derived from occultism to become dangerous? Haven't we countless opponents who assert that anthroposophy must be accepted for the strengthening of human beings—that it is not just a subject for discussion but something which proves itself in life to be a spiritual means of healing.

Spiritual science knows too that the physical is built up from the spiritual. If the spiritual forces work upon the etheric body, they work also health giving in the physical body. If our conceptions of the world and of life are sound, then these sound thoughts are most potent remedies, and the truths given out by anthroposophy work injuriously only on those natures who have grown weak through materialism and naturalism. These truths must be taken into the body to make it strong. Only when it produces strong human beings does anthroposophy fulfil its task.

Goethe has answered our questions about life and death in a most beautiful way when saying that everything in nature is life and that nature has only invented death to have more life.1“Life is here fairest invention, death but her artifice whereby to have much life.” Hymn to Nature. And we might say that besides death she has invented illness to produce greater health; therefore she has had to make of wisdom an apparently harmful remedy, in order that this wisdom may work upon mankind in a strengthening and healing way.

This is just the difference between the world movement of spiritual science and other movements—that it promotes strife and discussion when logical proof of it is demanded. Anthroposophy is not meant simply to be confirmed by logical argument; it is something to make human beings both spiritually and bodily sound. The more it shows its effect on life outside by so enhancing it that life's sorrows are transformed into the happiness of life, the more will anthroposophy prove itself in a really living way. However firmly people today believe they are able to bring forward logical objections to it, spiritual science is something which, appearing to be poison, is transformed into a means of healing, and then works in life in a fructifying way. It does not assert itself by mere logic. It is not to be merely demonstrated—it will prove itself in life.

Wie Begreift Man Krankheit und Tod?

Heute haben wir es mit einem Thema zu tun, das zweifellos jedem Menschen nahegeht, denn die beiden Worte «Krankheit und Tod» drücken etwas aus, was sich in jedes Leben hineinstellt, oftmals wie ein unerbetener Gast, oft aber auch als etwas Quälendes, Beengendes, Furchtmachendes. Ja, der Tod stellt sich als die größte Rätselfrage ins Dasein hinein, so daß, wenn jemand die Frage nach dem W :sen des Todes gelöst hat, für ihn dann wohl auch die Frage nach dem Wesen des Lebens gelöst ist. Oft hört man sagen: Der Tod bildet ein Rätsel, noch keiner hat es gelöst, und auch keiner wird es je lösen. — Die Menschen, die dergleichen aussprechen, ahnen gar nicht, welche Unbescheidenheit in diesen Worten liegt, sie ahnen gar nicht, daß es eine Lösung solcher Rätselfragen gibt und daß sie es nur nicht verstehen. Heute, wo wir es mit einem so umfassend wichtigen Ding zu tun haben, bitte ich Sie, ganz besonders darauf zu achten, daß es sich um nichts anderes handeln kann, als um eine Beantwortung der gestellten Frage: Wie begreift man Krankheit und Tod? Wir können uns daher nicht auf spezielle Fragen über Krankheiten und Gesundheit einlassen, sondern müssen uns im wesentlichen an die Frage halten: Wie erlangt man ein Verständnis für diese zwei wichtigen Fragen unseres Daseins?

Die bekannteste Antwort auf die Frage nach dem Wesen des Todes, die Jahrhunderte hindurch geltend war, heute aber für den weitaus größten Teil der Gebildeten der Menschheit ihren Wert eingebüßt hat, liegt vor in den Worten des Paulus: «Denn der Tod ist der Sünde Sold.» Wie gesagt, viele Jahrhunderte hindurch war dieses Wort eine Art Lösung des Rätsels des Todes. Heute wird derjenige, der im modernen Sinne denkt, mit einer solchen Antwort überhaupt nichts anfangen können, denn daß die Sünde etwas völlig Moralisches, etwas rein im Wesen des menschlichen Verhaltens Liegendes, die Ursache einer physischen Tatsache, wie der Tod es ist, sein könnte oder irgendwie mit dem Wesen der Krankheit zusammenhängen sollte, das ist für einen heutigen Denker ganz unerfindlich.

Es wird uns vielleicht noch nützlich sein, wenn wir auch darauf hinweisen, daß unsere Gegenwart nicht einmal mehr den Wortlaut des Satzes: «Denn der Tod ist der Sünde Sold» versteht. Denn unter «Sünde» verstanden Paulus und die, welche zu seiner Zeit lebten, ganz und gar nicht das, was man heute im philiströsen Sinne darunter versteht. Nicht eine Verfehlung im gewöhnlichen Sinne ist hier mit Sünde gemeint, auch nicht eine Verfehlung radikaler Art, sondern unter Sünde wird da verstanden, was aus Selbstsucht und Egoismus hervorgeht. Alles, was Selbstsucht und Egoismus zum Antriebe des Handelns hat — im Gegensatz zu dem, was sachlichen, objektiven Impulsen entspringt —, ist Sünde. Der Egoismus, das selbstische Handeln, aber setzt voraus, daß der Mensch selbständig, ich-bewußt geworden ist. Das muß man erkennen, wenn man sich ganz und gar auf die Denkweise eines solchen Geistes wie Paulus einläßt.

Wer nicht an der Oberfläche des Verständnisses der alt- und neutestamentlichen Urkunden bleibt, sondern wirklich in ihren Geist eindringt, der weiß, daß eine ganz bestimmte, man möchte sagen naturphilosophische Denkweise die Unterströmung dieser alt- und neutestamentlichen Denkweise bildet. Diese Unterströmung ist etwa die folgende: Alles, was an Lebensschöpfung in der Welt vorhanden ist, richtet sich nach einem ganz bestimmten Ziel hin. Die niederen Wesen sind noch neutral gegen Lust und Leid, Freude und Schmerz. Wir finden dann, wie sich das Leben steigert und etwas damit verbunden wird. Derjenige, dem schaudert, wenn man von Zielstrebigkeit spricht, der möge bedenken, daß hier nicht eine Theorie gedacht ist, sondern daß es sich hier um eine reine Tatsache handelt: das ganze Reich der Lebewesen bis zum Menschen hinauf nähert sich einer bestimmten Tatsache, die sich darin zeigt, daß an der Spitze der Lebewesen ein persönliches Bewußtsein möglich ist.

Es schaute der Eingeweihte des Alten und Neuen Testamentes hinunter ins Reich der Tiere und sah, wie alles dahin strebt, daß einmal eine freie Persönlichkeit zustande kommen kann, die aus sich selbst heraus die Antriebe und Impulse zum Handeln haben kann, und wie mit dem Wesen einer solchen Persönlichkeit das verbunden ist, was man die Möglichkeit einer egoistischen, selbstsüchtigen Handlung nennt. Nun aber würde ein Denker wie Paulus sagen: Wenn in einem Leibe eine solche Persönlichkeit wohnt, die egoistisch zu handeln imstande ist, so muß dieser Leib sterblich sein. In einem unsterblichen Leibe würde niemals eine Seele mit Selbständigkeit, Selbstbewußtsein und folglich auch mit Egoismus wohnen können. Daher gehören zusammen: ein sterblicher Leib und eine Seele mit Persönlichkeitsbewußtsein und die einseitige Ausbildung der Persönlichkeit zu Handlungsimpulsen. Das heißt die Bibel «Sünde», und so definiert Paulus: «Der Tod ist der Sünde Sold». Da sehen Sie allerdings, daß wir diesen, wie jeden anderen Ausspruch der Bibel modifizieren müssen, weil sie im Laufe der Jahrhunderte ganz in ihr Gegenteil umgekehrt worden sind. Modifiziert man sie, nicht indem man sie umdeutet, sondern indem man sich klarmacht, daß man den gegenwärtigen Sinn, den die Theologie gibt, in den ursprünglichen verwandelt, so sieht man daraus, daß man es oftmals mit einer sehr tiefen Auffassung der Sache zu tun hatte, die dem gar nicht so fernsteht, was man heute wieder begreifen kann. Dies zur notwendigen Richtigstellung.

Aber es haben sich ja die Denker, die Weltanschauungsforscher aller Zeiten mit der Frage nach dem Rätsel des Todes beschäftigt, und wir finden diese Frage seit Jahrtausenden scheinbar in der mannigfaltigsten Weise beantwortet. Wir können uns hier nicht mit einer geschichtlichen Betrachtung einer solchen Lösung befassen, daher sei nur auf zwei Denker hingewiesen, damit Sie sehen, wie selbst der Gegenwart recht nahestehende Denker nichts Erhebliches zu dieser Frage beizubringen wissen.

Der eine ist Schopenhauer. Sie kennen ja alle seine pessimistische Art zu denken, und wer einmal den Satz durchgegangen ist: «Das Leben ist eine mißliche Sache, und ich habe mir vorgenommen, das meinige damit hinzubringen, über dasselbe nachzudenken» — der wird begreifen, daß Schopenhauer kaum zu einer anderen Lösung gekommen ist als zu der: Eigentlich tröstet der Tod über das Leben und das Leben über den Tod; das Leben ist eine fatale Sache, und man könnte es nicht ertragen, wenn man nicht wüßte, daß der Tod es schließen würde; und wenn man die Furcht vor dem Tode hat, dann braucht man sich nur einmal klarzumachen, daß das Leben nicht besser sei und daß durch den Tod nichts weiter beschlossen ist. Das ist seine pessimistische Art zu denken, die nur einmal darüber hinausführt, wo er den Erdgeist sagen läßt: Ihr wollt, daß immer neues Leben entsteht, da muß ich Platz haben. Also sieht Schopenhauer in einer gewissen Beziehung in der Tatsache, daß das Leben sich fortpflanzt, immer neues Leben gebiert, die Notwendigkeit, daß das Alte sterben müsse, damit für das Neue Raum sei. Sonst weiß auch Schopenhauer gar nichts Erhebliches vorzubringen; denn alles, was er sonst sagt, atmet in diesen zwei Worten.

Der andere ist Eduard von Hartmann. Er hat sich noch in seinem letzten Buche mit dem Rätsel des Todes beschäftigt. Er sagt da: Wenn wir uns das zunächst höchste Lebewesen betrachten, so finden wir, daß der Mensch, nachdem wieder ein oder zwei neue Generationen heraufgezogen sind, die Welt nicht mehr versteht. Wenn der Mensch alt geworden ist, kann er die Jugend nicht mehr fassen, daher ist es notwendig, daß das Alte absterbe und Neues wieder hervorkomme. — Sie sehen jedenfalls auf diese Fragen auch keine Antwort, die uns mit wirklichem Verständnis dem Rätsel des Todes näherbringen könnte.

So wollen wir einmal in die heutigen, gegenwärtigen Weltanschauungen hineinstellen, was die sogenannte Geisteswissenschaft, dieman heute auch Anthroposophie nennt, über die Ursachen von Tod und Krankheit zu sagen hat. Wir wollen uns aber dabei eines klarmachen: der Geisteswissenschaft geht es nicht so gut wie den anderen Wissenschaften, daß sie in einer bestimmten Weise über alles sprechen kann. Der heutige Naturforscher würde es nicht begreifen, daß man, wenn man über Krankheit und Tod spricht, trennen muß zwischen Tier und Mensch, daß man aber gerade, wenn man die Frage des heutigen Vortrages begreifen will, sich wird auf die Erscheinungen beim Menschen beschränken müssen. Da die Wesen nicht nur das abstrakte «Gleiche» miteinander haben, sondern auch jedes sein Wesentliches und seine Eigenart hat, so wird nur einiges von dem, was heute gesagt wird, auch auf die Tierwelt anzuwenden sein, vielleicht auch auf die Pflanzen; im wesentlichen aber wird über den Menschen gesprochen werden, und die anderen Dinge werden nur herangezogen werden, wenn sie etwas erklären sollen.

Wenn wir Tod und Krankheit beim Menschen erfassen wollen, müssen wir vor allen Dingen darauf sehen, daß der Mensch im Sinne der Geisteswissenschaft ein höchst kompliziertes Wesen ist und daß wir den Menschen seinem Wesen nach aus den folgenden vier Gliedern heraus begreifen müssen: erstens haben wir den äußerlich sichtbaren physischen Körper, als zweites den Äther- oder Lebensleib, sodann den Astralleib, und als viertes das Ich des Menschen oder den Mittelpunkt seines Wesens. Dann müssen wir uns klar sein, daß im physischen Leibe dieselben Kräfte und Stoffe vorhanden sind wie in der physischen Welt draußen und daß in dem Ätherleib das liegt, was diese Stoffe zum Leben aufruft, und daß der Mensch seinen Ätherleib mit der ganzen Pflanzenwelt gemeinschaftlich hat. Der Astralleib, den der Mensch mit den Tieren gemein hat, ist der Träger des ganzen Gefühlslebens, von Begierden, Lust und Unlust, Freude und Schmerz. Das Ich hat der Mensch ganz für sich allein, das macht ihn zur Krone der Erdenschöpfung.

Wenn wir den Menschen als physischen Organismus vor uns haben, dann müssen wir uns klarmachen, daß innerhalb dieses physischen Organismus die drei anderen Glieder als Bildner und Architekten arbeiten. Das physische Prinzip arbeitet nur teilweise am physischen Organismus des Menschen, in einem anderen Teil ist im wesentlichen der Ätherleib tätig, wieder in einem anderen der Astralleib, und wiederum in einem anderen Teil des Menschen ist das Ich tätig. Der Mensch besteht für die Geisteswissenschaft physisch erst einmal aus Knochen, Muskeln, denjenigen Organen, die den Menschen stützen, ihn zu einem festen, auf der Erde gehenden Gebilde machen; diese allein rechnet man im strengsten Sinn der Geisteswissenschaft zu dem durch das physische Prinzip zustande gekommenen Teil der Organe. Dazu kommen noch die eigentlichen Sinnesorgane; dabei haben wir es mit physikalischen Apparaten zu tun; beim Auge mit einer Art camera obscura, beim Ohr mit einem sehr komplizierten Musikinstrument. Es kommt nun darauf an, woraus diese Organe gebaut sind. Sie sind von dem ersten Prinzip gebaut. Dagegen sind alle Organe, die mit Wachstum, Fortpflanzung, Verdauung und anderem zusammenhängen, nicht bloß im Sinne des physischen Prinzips gebaut, sondern im Sinne des Äther- oder Lebensleibes, der ja auch die physischen Organe durchdringt. Nur der gesetzmäßige Aufbau wird vom physischen Prinzip besorgt, der Vorgang von Verdauung, Fortpflanzung und Wachstum dagegen wird vom Ätherprinzip besorgt. Der Astralleib ist der Schöpfer des ganzen Nervensystems, bis hinauf zum Gehirn und zu den Strängen, die in Form von Sinnesnervensträngen zum Gehirn gehen. Das Ich endlich ist der Architekt des Blutkreislaufes. Wenn wir also in echt geisteswissenschaftlichem Sinne einen menschlichen Organismus vor uns haben, so sind wir uns klar, daß diese vier Glieder — auch im äußerlich wahrnehmbaren Organismus — eigentlich wie vier ganz voneinander verschiedene Wesenheiten im Menschen verschmelzen und miteinander wirksam gemacht worden sind. Diese Glieder, die den menschlichen Organismus zusammensetzen, sind von ganz verschiedenem Werte, und wir werden ihre Bedeutung für den Menschen begreifen, wenn wir erforschen, wie die Entwicklung des Menschen mit diesen einzelnen Gliedern zusammenhängt.

Heute sei mehr vom physiologischen Gesichtspunkt aus besprochen, was man die Arbeit des physischen Prinzips im menschlichen Organismus nennt. Das wird geleistet in der Epoche von der Geburt bis zum Zahnwechsel. Da arbeitet das physische Prinzip am physischen Leibe so, wie die Kräfte und Stoffe des mütterlichen Organismus am Kindeskeim arbeiten, bevor das Kind geboren ist. Vom siebenten Jahre bis zur Geschlechtsreife arbeitet am physischen Leibe hauptsächlich das Ätherprinzip, und von der Geschlechtsreife an arbeiten die Kräfte, die innerhalb des Astralleibes verankert sind. So daß wir uns die Entwicklung des Menschen recht vorstellen, wenn wir uns denken, daß der Mensch bis zur Geburt vom Leibe der Mutter umschlossen ist. Mit der Geburt drängt er gleichsam den mütterlichen Leib zurück, seine Sinne werden frei, und nun ist es möglich, daß die äußere Welt anfängt, auf den menschlichen Organismus einzuwirken. Da stößt der Mensch auch eine Hülle von sich, und derjenige erst begreift richtig die Entwicklung des Menschen, der begreift, daß zwar nicht im physischen, aber im geistigen Leben etwas Ähnliches in der Zeit des Zahnwechsels vor sich geht. Um das siebente Jahr herum wird der Mensch richtig ein zweites Mal geboren. Da wird nämlich sein Ätherleib zur freien Tätigkeit geboren, wie sein physischer Leib zur Zeit der Geburt. So wie physisch der Mutterleib an dem Menschenkeim in der Zeit vor der Geburt arbeitet, so arbeiten geistige Kräfte des Weltenäthers bis zum Zahnwechsel an dem AÄtherleib des Menschen, und sie werden um das siebente Jahr herum ebenso zurückgedrängt wie der Mutterleib bei der physischen Geburt. Bis zum siebenten Jahre liegt der Ätherleib wie latent im physischen Leibe. Wie bei einem in Brand gesetzten Zündholz ist es mit dem Ätherleib um die Zeit des Zahnwechsels herum. Er ist im physischen Leibe darinnen gebunden und kommt nun heraus zur eigenen, freien, selbständigen Tätigkeit. Und das Zeichen, wodurch sich diese freie Tätigkeit des Ätherleibes ankündigt, ist gerade der Zahnwechsel. Der Zahnwechsel hat für den, der tiefer in die Natur des Menschen hineinschaut, eine ganz bedeutsame Stellung. Haben wir einen Menschen bis zum siebenten Jahr vor uns, so arbeitet das physische Prinzip frei im physischen Leib; aber gebunden und aus den geistigen Hüllen noch nicht herausgeboren ist das Äther- und das astrale Prinzip.

Wenn wir den Menschen bis zum siebenten Jahr betrachten, so enthält er eine ganze Summe von Vererbungstatsachen, die er nicht mit seinem eigenen Prinzip erbaut hat, sondern die er von den Vorfahren ererbt erhalten hat. Dazu gehört das, was man die Milchzähne nennt. Erst die Zähne, die nach dem Zahnwechsel kommen, sind im Kinde die eigene Schöpfung des Prinzips, das als physisches dazu veranlagt ist, die feste Stütze zu bilden. Was in den Zähnen zum Ausdruck kommt, schafft bis zum Zahnwechsel im Innern, und es bildet am Ende seiner Wirksamkeit gleichsam den Schlußpunkt und bringt den härtesten Teil des Stützorganes in den Zähnen hervor, weil es noch den Äther-oder Lebensleib als Wachstumsträger in sich gebunden hält.

Nachdem dieses Prinzip abgestoßen ist, wird der Ätherleib frei und schafft jetzt an den physischen Organen bis zur Geschlechtsreife, und dann wird ebenso eine Hülle, die äußere astrale Hülle, weggedrängt wie bei der Geburt die Mutterhülle. Astralisch wird der Mensch bei der Geschlechtsreife zum dritten Male geboren. Und die wirkenden Kräfte, die im Ätherleib gebunden waren, machen jetzt für ihre Schöpfungsart im Menschen den Schlußpunkt, indem sie die Fähigkeit der Geschlechtsreife, der Fortpflanzung, und ihre Organe erzeugen. So wie das physische Prinzip im siebenten Jahre durch die Zähne den Schlußpunkt macht, indem es die letzten harten Organe schafft, und wodurch der ÄtherJeib, das Wachstumsprinzip, frei wird, so schafft das astrale Prinzip in dem Moment, wo es frei wird, die stärkste Konzentration der Triebe und Begierden, der Lebensäußerung, insofern wir es mit der physischen Natur zu tun haben. Wie Sie das physische Prinzip wie konzentriert in den Zähnen haben, so das Wachstumsprinzip in der Geschlechtsreife. Da ist der Astralleib, die Umhüllung des Ich frei, und das Ich arbeitet nun am Astralleib.

Der europäische Kulturmensch folgt nicht bloß seinen Trieben und Begierden; er hat sie geläutert und umgewandelt in moralische Empfindungen und ethische Ideale. Vergleichen wir nun einen Wilden mit einem europäischen Durchschnittsmenschen oder gar mit einem Schiller oder Franz von Assisi, so können wir sagen, daß diese ihre Triebe vom Ich aus umgestaltet, geläutert haben. So können wir uns sagen, daß dieser Astralleib stets zwei Teile enthält: einen, der aus der ursprünglichen Anlage herrührt, und einen, den das Ich selbst geboren hat. Nun verstehen wir die Arbeit des Ich nur dann, wenn wir uns klarmachen, daß der Mensch einer Wiederverkörperung — wiederholten Erdenleben — unterliegt; daß der Mensch, wenn er geboren wird, gleichsam in vier voneinander geteilten Leibern sich die Früchte und Ergebnisse früherer Erdenleben mitbringt, die als ein Maß für die Energie und Kraft seines Lebens da sind. Der eine Mensch wird geboren, weil er es früher dazu gebracht hat, mit viel Lebensenergie, mit starken Kräften seinen Astralleib umzugestalten. Der andere wird darin bald erlahmen. Wenn man hellsehend untersuchen kann, wie das Ich beginnt, an dem Astralleibe frei zu arbeiten, die Begierden, Triebe und Leidenschaften vom Ich aus zu beherrschen, dann könnte man, wenn man das Maß von Energie, das das Ich sich mitgebracht hat, anzugeben vermag, sagen: dieses Maß ist so groß, daß das Ich so und so lange an seiner Umgestaltung an sich arbeiten wird und nicht mehr. Und nach der Zeit der Geschlechtsreife gibt es für jeden Menschen ein solches Maß, durch das man messen kann und angeben könnte, bis wann er alles aus seinem Astralkörper herausgearbeitet hat nach den ihm in diesem Leben zugeteilten Pfunden. Was der Mensch so in seinem Gemüt an Lebenskräften umzugestalten und zu läutern vermag, erhält sich selbst. Solange dieses Maß ausreicht, lebt er auf Kosten des sich selbst erhaltenden Astralleibes. Ist er erschöpft, findet er keinen Mut mehr, neue Triebe umzugestalten, kurz, keine Energie, an sich zu arbeiten, dann reißt der Lebensfaden ab, — und er muß nach einem Maße, das jedem Menschen zuerteilt ist, einmal abreißen. Dann ist die Zeit gekommen, wo der Astralleib seine Kräfte von dem Prinzip des menschlichen Lebens nehmen muß, das ihm zunächst liegt, vom Ätherleib. Und jetzt kommt die Zeit, wo der Astralleib auf Kosten der im AÄtherleib aufgespeicherten Kraft lebt; der Ausdruck dafür ist für den Menschen da, wenn sein Gedächtnis, seine produktive Einbildungskraft allmählich schwindet.

Wir haben öfter hier gehört, daß der Ätherleib der Träger der produktiven Phantasie und des Gedächtnisses ist, dessen, was man Lebenshoffnung und Lebensmut nennt. Diese Gefühle, wenn sie zu seinem bleibenden Element werden, haften an dem Ätherleib. Sie werden jetzt von dem Astralleib herausgesogen; und nachdem der Astralleib so auf Kosten des Ätherleibes gelebt und alles, was dieser herzugeben hatte, ausgesogen hat, beginnt die Zeit, wo die schöpferischen Kräfte des physischen Leibes vom Astralleib aufgezehrt werden. Und sind diese herausgezehrt, dann schwindet die Lebenskraft des physischen Leibes, der Körper verhärtet sich, der Puls wird langsamer. Da zehrt der Astralleib zuletzt auch noch am physischen Leibe und nimmt ihm die Kraft weg. Und hat er die aufgezehrt, dann ist keine Möglichkeit mehr, daß aus dem physischen Prinzip heraus der physische Leib erhalten werden kann.

Soll der Astralleib es dahin bringen, daß er frei werden und zu dem Leben und der Arbeit des Ich geboren werden soll, dann ist es notwendig, daß in der zweiten Hälfte des Lebens der freigewordene Astralleib, wenn das Maß der Arbeit erschöpft ist, seine Hüllen geradeso wie sie gebildet worden sind, selber wieder aufzehrt. So ist das individuelle Leben vom Ich heraus geschaffen.

Zum Gleichnis diene Folgendes: Denken Sie sich ein Stück Holz, das Sie anzünden. Wäre es nicht so, wie es ist, so würden Sie es nicht anzünden können. Die Flamme quillt aus dem Holz hervor, aber sie zehrt es zu gleicher Zeit auf. Das ist das Wesen der Flamme, daß sie aus dem Holz heraus frei wird und den eigenen Mutterboden aufzehrt. So wird der Astralleib dreifach herausgeboren, so zehrt er, wie die Flamme das Holz, seine eigene Grundlage auf; und darin besteht die Möglichkeit, daß das individuelle Leben da sein kann, weil es seine Grundlage wieder aufzehrt. Der Tod ist ihm die Wurzel des Lebens, und es könnte gar kein bewußt individuelles Leben geben, wenn es nicht den Tod gäbe. Wir verstehen und begreifen den Tod allein, indem wir seinen Ursprung zu erkennen suchen, und daher begreifen wir das Leben, indem wir sein Verhältnis zum Tod erkennen. In ähnlicher Weise lernen wir das Wesen der Krankheit begreifen, und dies wird uns noch mehr das Wesen des Todes klarmachen. Jede Krankheit stellt sich wie eine Zerstörerin des Lebens dar. Was ist Krankheit?

Um ihr Wesen zu verstehen, müssen wir den Menschen im Zusammenhang mit der Natur betrachten. Machen wir uns klar, was denn geschieht, wenn der Mensch als lebendiges Wesen der übrigen Natur gegenübersteht. Mit jedem Luftzug, mit jedem Ton, mit der Nahrung, mit dem Licht, die er in sich aufnimmt, tritt der Mensch in ein Wechselverhältnis mit der ihn umgebenden Natur. Wenn Sie die Sache genau betrachten, so werden Sie auch ohne Okkultismus darauf kommen, daß die Dinge draußen die eigentlichen Bildner und Öffner der physischen Organe sind. Wenn gewisse Tiere in finstere Höhlen einwandern, dann werden ihre Augen mit der Zeit rückgebildet. Wo kein Licht mehr ist, können nicht mehr lichtempfängliche Augen sein; umgekehrt, nur wo Licht ist, können lichtempfindliche Augen sich bilden. Deshalb sagt Goethe, das Auge wird vom Licht für das Licht gebildet. Natürlich wird im Sinne dessen, was die eigentlichen inneren Architekten genannt werden, der physische Leib aufgebaut. Der Mensch ist ein physisches Wesen, und die äußeren Dinge sind dasjenige, woraus im Einklang mit den inneren Bildnern der ganze Mensch aufgebaut wird. Dann wird das Verhältnis einzelner Kräfte und Stoffe zum Menschen ein ganz anderes Bild ergeben. Diejenigen, die hier den tiefen Blick des wahren Mystikers gehabt haben, werden uns hier besonders viel sagen können. Für Paracelsus ist die ganze äußere Welt ein fächerartig auseinandergelegter menschlicher Organismus, und der Mensch ist wie ein Extrakt der ganzen äußeren Welt. Wenn wir eine Pflanze sehen, können wir im Sinne des Paracelsus sagen: In dieser Pflanze ist ein gesetzmäßiger Zusammenhang, und es gibt etwas im Menschen, was im gesunden oder kranken Organismus dieser Pflanze entspricht. Daher nennt Paracelsus zum Beispiel einen Cholerakranken einen «Arsenikus», und das Arsenik ist ihm ein Heilmittel für Cholera. So besteht eine Beziehung zwischen jedem Organ des Menschen und dem, was in der Natur um ihn herum ist. Man bräuchte nur eine Essenz der Natur zu nehmen und sie menschenähnlich formen, dann hätte man den Menschen. In der ganzen Natur sind die einzelnen Buchstaben ausgebreitet, nimmt man sie zusammen, dann hat man den Menschen. Da bekommen Sie eine Ahnung, wie die ganze übrige Natur auf den Menschen wirkt, und daß der Mensch berufen ist, aus der ganzen übrigen Natur seine Wesenheit zusammenzusetzen. Alles, was in uns ist, ist im Grunde genommen in uns hineingezogen aus der äußeren Natur, aufgenommen worden in den Lebensprozeß. Wenn wir dieses Geheimnis von der Verlebendigung äußerer Kräfte und Stoffe verstehen, dann werden wir das Wesen einer Krankheit begreifen können.

Wir kommen da auf ein Kapitel, wo es einem heutigen Gebildeten schwer wird zu verstehen, wie viele Begriffe in der Medizin wie eine Art Nebelgebilde wirken. Wie wirkt es heute in den Versammlungen suggestiv, wenn jemand als Naturheilkundiger das Wort «Gift» ausspricht. Was ist ein Gift, und was ist eine unnatürliche Wirkung im menschlichen Organismus? Was Sie auch immer in den menschlichen Organismus einführen, wirkt nach Naturgesetzen. Es ist unerfindlich, wie man davon sprechen kann, daß irgend etwas nicht nach Naturgesetzen im Körper wirken könnte. Und was ist ein Gift? Wasser ist ein starkes Gift, wenn Sie zehn Eimer davon auf einmal vertilgen; und was heute Gift ist, könnte von den wohltätigsten Wirkungen sein, wenn man es in der richtigen Weise dem Körper zuführt. Es kommt immer darauf an, in welcher Quantität und unter welchen Umständen man einen Stoff zu sich nimmt. Es gibt kein Gift an sich.

In Afrika gibt es einen Stamm, der eine bestimmte Hundeart zur Jagd verwendet. Nun gibt es aber dort eine Art von Fliegen, die ein bestimmtes Gift in sich tragen, das die Hunde tötet, wenn sie von den Fliegen gestochen werden. Da haben die Wilden des Sambesiflusses ein Mittel gegen diesen Stich gefunden. Sie führen nämlich die trächtigen Hündinnen gerade in solche Gegenden, wo sehr viele von diesen Tsetsefliegen sind, und lassen die Hündinnen von den Tsetsefliegen stechen. Die Wilden wissen es dann so einzurichten, daß die Hündinnen erst dann sterben, wenn sie geworfen haben. Und nun stellt sich die Tatsache heraus, daß die jungen Hunde jetzt immun sind und zur Jagd verwendet werden können.

Da ist etwas geschehen, was für das Verständnis des Lebens so wichtig ist: Ein Gift ist in einen Lebensprozeß aufgenommen worden im Moment, wo eine absteigende Linie in eine aufsteigende Linie übergeht, so daß das Gift ein zum Organismus gehöriger Stoff wird. Was wir so von der äußeren Natur aufgenommen haben, das macht uns stark und schützt uns gerade.,

Die Geisteswissenschaft zeigt uns, daß der ganze menschliche Organismus auf diese Weise auferbaut ist; wenn wir so sagen wollen, aus lauter Dingen, die ursprünglich Gifte waren. Für die Nahrungsmittel, die Sie heute genießen, hat man sich die Möglichkeit geholt, sie zu essen, nachdem man sich durch einen ähnlichen Vorgang in der rückläufigen Linie gegen ihre Schädlichkeit immun gemacht hat. Und wir sind um so stärker, je mehr solcher Stoffe wir auf diese Weise uns einverleibt haben. Schwach machen wir uns gegen die äußere Natur, indem wir ihre Stoffe zurückweisen.

In den Gegenden, wo die Arzneikunde noch auf den Okkultismus aufgebaut ist, wirft der Arzt seine ganze Persönlichkeit in die Schranken. Es gibt Kuren, innerhalb welcher der Arzt sich zum Beispiel Schlangengift einverleibt, dann wird sein Speichel zum Heilmittel gegen solche Schlangenbisse. Er verleibt dem eigenen Organismus das Gift ein, macht sich dadurch zum Träger der heilenden Kräfte, wird stark und macht damit die anderen stark gegen das betreffende Gift.

Das Harmloseste, was der Organismus hat, ist auf diese Weise entstanden. Die Einverleibung der äußeren Welten und der Natur braucht der Organismus; aber dabei muß auch die Möglichkeit gegeben werden, daß die Sache wie ein Pendel hinüberschlägt nach der anderen Seite. Immer ist die Möglichkeit gegeben, wenn der Mensch sich solchen Stoffen aussetzt — und dem ist er in jedem Augenblick ausgesetzt —, daß das Mittel in seiner Wirkung sich überschlägt und schädigt, je nachdem, ob der Lebensleib geeignert ist, es aufzunehmen oder nicht. Dadurch wird der Organismus stark gegen das Mittel, wenn er im Augenblick stark genug ist, den Stoff in sich aufzunehmen. Es gibt keine Möglichkeit, der Krankheit zu entkommen, wenn man die Gesundheit haben will. Jede Möglichkeit, sich gegen die äußeren Einflüsse stark zu machen, beruht auf der Möglichkeit, Krankheit zu haben, krank zu sein. So ist die Krankheit die Bedingung der Gesundheit. Das ist ein ganz realer Werdegang. Das ist geradezu die Folgerung und Gabe der Krankheit, daß das Starke vom Menschen erworben werden muß. Was beim Ausschlagen des Pendels überlebt, das hat die Frucht der Immunität aus der Krankheit, — und sogar über den Tod hinaus.

Wer etwas weitergeht, wird gerade daraus eine Art von Verständnis für das Wesen der Krankheit und das Wesen des Todes gewinnen. Wollen wir die Stärke, die Gesundheit, dann müssen wir ihre Vorbedingung, die Krankheit, mit in den Kauf nehmen. Wollen wir stark sein, dann müssen wir uns gegen die Schwäche schützen, indem wir die Schwäche in uns selber aufnehmen und in Stärke verwandeln. Wenn man dies lebendig auffaßt, wird es uns Krankheit und Tod begreiflich machen. Diese Begriffe wird die geisteswissenschaftliche Bewegung der Menschheit bringen. Heute mag das für viele noch etwas sein, was nur zum Verstande spricht. Wenn aber der Verstand die Sache völlig aufgenommen haben wird, dann wird das eine tiefe harmonische Gemütslage im Menschen bewirken, dann wird das Lebensweisheit werden.

Haben Sie denn noch nicht gehört, daß die anthroposophischen Wahrheiten, die aus dem Okkultismus heraus geschöpft sind, sogar gefährlich werden können? Haben wir nicht zahlreiche Gegner, die behaupten, die Anthroposophie sei ein Gift und schädige den Menschen? Ja, das wissen die Anthroposophen und der Okkultist selber, daß die Anthroposophie auch schädlich wirken kann; sie wissen aber auch, daß sie aufgenommen und einverleibt werden muß, um den Menschen stark zu machen, und daß sie nicht nur etwas ist, worüber man diskutieren kann, sondern etwas, was sich dann im Leben bewährt als ein geistiges Heilmittel.

Und das weiß die Geisteswissenschaft auch, daß das Physische aus dem Geistigen heraus aufgebaut wird. Wirken die geistigen Kräfte auf den Ätherleib, dann wirken sie auch als gesund im Zusammenhang des physischen Leibes. Sind unsere Vorstellungen von der Welt und vom Leben gesund, dann sind diese gesunden Gedanken die kräftigsten Heilmittel, und nur auf schwache Naturen, die durch Materialismus und Naturalismus schwache Naturen geworden sind, wirkt das, was die Anthroposophie als Wahrheit verkündigt, krankmachend. Das müssen sie sich einverleiben, um sich stark zu machen. Erst dann hat die Anthroposophie ihre Aufgabe erfüllt, wenn sie starke Menschen im Leben erzeugt.

Unsere Frage nach Leben und Tod hat Goethe so schön gelöst: Alles in der Natur ist Leben; sie hat den Tod nur erfunden, um viel Leben zu haben. Und so könnte man sagen: Sie hat auch neben dem Tod die Krankheit erfunden, um die starke Gesundheit zu erzeugen, und sie hat notwendigerweise der Weisheit scheinbar schädigende Wirkung zugeben müssen, damit diese Weisheit kräftigend und heilend auf die Menschheit wirkt.

Gerade dadurch unterscheidet sich die geisteswissenschaftliche Weltbewegung von den anderen Bewegungen, daß man über sie streiten und diskutieren kann, wenn man von ihr verlangt, sie solle sich logisch beweisen. Nicht etwas, was sich bloß mit logischen Gründen erhärten läßt, soll die Anthroposophie sein, sondern etwas, was die Menschen geistig und auch körperlich gesund macht. Je mehr sie ihre Wirkungen draußen im Leben zeigt, indem sie das Leben so erhöht, daß der Lebensschmerz in Lebensglück verwandelt wird, desto mehr werden lebendige Beweise für sie da sein. Mögen die Leute heute noch so sehr glauben, sie könnten etwas logisch dagegen einwenden: die Geisteswissenschaft.ist etwas, das wie ein scheinbares Gift umgewandelt wird in ein Heilmittel und dann befruchtend wirkt im Leben. Und nicht in der Logik wird sie sich zeigen — sie kann nicht bloß bewiesen werden — sie wird sich bewähren im Leben.

How Do We Understand Illness and Death?

Today we are dealing with a topic that undoubtedly touches every human being, because the two words “illness and death” express something that enters every life, often like an uninvited guest, but often also as something tormenting, constricting, and frightening. Yes, death presents itself as the greatest mystery in existence, so that if someone has solved the question of the nature of death, then for them the question of the nature of life is also solved. One often hears it said: Death is a mystery, no one has solved it yet, and no one ever will. People who say such things have no idea how presumptuous these words are; they have no idea that there is a solution to such riddles and that they simply do not understand it. Today, as we deal with such a comprehensively important matter, I ask you to pay particular attention to the fact that it can be nothing other than an answer to the question posed: How do we understand illness and death? We cannot therefore engage in specific questions about illness and health, but must essentially stick to the question: How do we gain an understanding of these two important questions of our existence?

The best-known answer to the question of the nature of death, which was valid for centuries but has now lost its value for the vast majority of educated people, is found in the words of Paul: “For the wages of sin is death.” As I said, for many centuries these words were a kind of solution to the riddle of death. Today, those who think in a modern way will not be able to make sense of such an answer at all, because the idea that sin could be something entirely moral, something purely inherent in human behavior, the cause of a physical fact such as death, or somehow related to the nature of illness, is completely incomprehensible to today's thinkers.

It may also be useful to point out that our present age no longer even understands the wording of the sentence: “For the wages of sin is death.” For Paul and those who lived in his time did not understand “sin” at all in the philistine sense of the word as it is understood today. Sin here does not mean a transgression in the usual sense, nor does it mean a transgression of a radical nature, but rather it means that which arises from selfishness and egotism. Everything that is driven by selfishness and egotism — in contrast to that which arises from objective impulses — is sin. Egoism, selfish action, presupposes that man has become independent and self-aware. This must be recognized when one fully engages with the mindset of a spirit such as Paul.

Those who do not remain on the surface of their understanding of the Old and New Testament documents, but truly penetrate their spirit, know that a very specific, one might say natural-philosophical way of thinking forms the undercurrent of this Old and New Testament way of thinking. This undercurrent is roughly as follows: Everything that exists in the world in terms of the creation of life is directed toward a very specific goal. Lower beings are still neutral toward pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow. We then find that life intensifies and something becomes connected with it. Those who shudder when they hear the word “purposefulness” should bear in mind that this is not a theory, but a pure fact: the entire realm of living beings, up to and including human beings, is approaching a certain fact, which is manifested in the fact that personal consciousness is possible at the pinnacle of living beings.

The initiate of the Old and New Testaments looked down into the animal kingdom and saw how everything strives toward the eventual emergence of a free personality that can have its own drives and impulses for action, and how the essence of such a personality is connected with what is called the possibility of selfish, self-centered action. But now a thinker like Paul would say: If such a personality, capable of acting selfishly, dwells in a body, then that body must be mortal. A soul with independence, self-awareness, and consequently also with egoism could never dwell in an immortal body. Therefore, the following belong together: a mortal body and a soul with personality awareness and the one-sided development of the personality into impulses for action. The Bible calls this “sin,” and Paul defines it as follows: “The wages of sin is death.” However, you can see that we must modify this, as we must every other statement in the Bible, because over the centuries they have been completely reversed into their opposite. If we modify it, not by reinterpreting it, but by realizing that we are transforming the current meaning given by theology into the original one, we see that we were often dealing with a very profound understanding of the matter, which is not so far removed from what we can understand again today. This is a necessary correction.

But thinkers and researchers of worldviews throughout the ages have grappled with the question of the mystery of death, and we find that this question has been answered in seemingly diverse ways for thousands of years. We cannot deal with a historical consideration of such a solution here, so we will only refer to two thinkers so that you can see how even thinkers who are quite close to the present day have nothing significant to contribute to this question.

One is Schopenhauer. You are all familiar with his pessimistic way of thinking, and anyone who has ever considered the statement, “Life is a difficult thing, and I have decided to spend mine thinking about it,” will understand that Schopenhauer could hardly have come to any other solution than this: Actually, death comforts us about life, and life comforts us about death; life is a fatal thing, and we could not bear it if we did not know that death would end it; and if we fear death, we need only realize that life is no better and that death is not the end of everything. This is his pessimistic way of thinking, which only goes beyond it when he has the Earth Spirit say: You want new life to be created all the time, so I must have space. So, in a certain sense, Schopenhauer sees in the fact that life reproduces itself, constantly giving birth to new life, the necessity that the old must die so that there is room for the new. Otherwise, Schopenhauer has nothing significant to say; for everything else he says is contained in these two words.

The other is Eduard von Hartmann. In his last book, he still dealt with the mystery of death. He says there: When we consider the highest living being, we find that after one or two new generations have grown up, man no longer understands the world. When man has grown old, he can no longer comprehend youth, so it is necessary for the old to die and the new to emerge again. — In any case, you do not see any answer to these questions that could bring us closer to a real understanding of the mystery of death.

So let us take a look at today's worldviews and see what the so-called Spiritual Science, now also called anthroposophy, has to say about the causes of death and disease. But let us be clear about one thing: Spiritual Science is not as well equipped as other sciences to speak about everything in a certain way. Today's natural scientist would not understand that when talking about illness and death, one must distinguish between animals and humans, but that in order to understand the question of today's lecture, one must limit oneself to the phenomena observed in humans. Since beings do not only have the abstract “same” in common, but each also has its own essence and characteristics, only some of what is said today will also apply to the animal world, and perhaps also to plants; but essentially we will be talking about humans, and the other things will only be referred to when they are needed to explain something.

If we want to understand death and illness in humans, we must first of all recognize that, in the sense of Spiritual Science, humans are highly complex beings and that we must understand them in terms of their essence, which consists of the following four members: first, we have the outwardly visible physical body; second, the etheric or life body; then the astral body; and fourth, the human ego or the center of the human being. Then we must be clear that the same forces and substances are present in the physical body as in the physical world outside, and that the etheric body contains what brings these substances to life, and that human beings share their etheric body with the entire plant world. The astral body, which humans share with animals, is the bearer of the entire emotional life, of desires, pleasure and displeasure, joy and pain. The ego is something that humans have all to themselves, and it is what makes them the crown of earthly creation.

When we consider the human being as a physical organism, we must realize that within this physical organism the three other members work as formers and architects. The physical principle works only partially on the physical organism of the human being; in another part, it is essentially the etheric body that is active, in yet another part the astral body, and in still another part of the human being the I is active. For Spiritual Science, the human being consists physically first and foremost of bones, muscles, and those organs that support the human being, making him a solid entity walking on the earth; in the strictest sense of Spiritual Science, these alone are counted as the part of the organs brought about by the physical principle. In addition, there are the actual sense organs; these are physical apparatuses: the eye is a kind of camera obscura, the ear a very complicated musical instrument. What matters now is what these organs are made of. They are built from the first principle. In contrast, all organs related to growth, reproduction, digestion, and so on are not built solely in the sense of the physical principle, but in the sense of the etheric or life body, which also permeates the physical organs. Only the lawful structure is provided by the physical principle, while the processes of digestion, reproduction, and growth are provided by the etheric principle. The astral body is the creator of the entire nervous system, up to the brain and the strands that go to the brain in the form of sensory nerve strands. Finally, the ego is the architect of the blood circulation. So when we have a human organism before us in a truly spiritual scientific sense, we realize that these four members — even in the externally perceptible organism — have actually been fused together and made effective in the human being as four completely different entities. These members that make up the human organism are of very different values, and we will understand their significance for the human being when we explore how human development is related to these individual members.

Today we will discuss, more from a physiological point of view, what is called the work of the physical principle in the human organism. This is accomplished in the period from birth to the change of teeth. The physical principle works on the physical body in the same way that the forces and substances of the maternal organism work on the child's germ before the child is born. From the age of seven until puberty, the etheric principle mainly works on the physical body, and from puberty onwards, the forces anchored within the astral body work. So we can form a mental image of human development correctly if we think of the human being as being enclosed in the mother's body until birth. At birth, the child pushes back the mother's body, so to speak, its senses become free, and now it is possible for the outside world to begin to influence the human organism. At this point, the human being also pushes away a shell, and only those who understand that something similar occurs in spiritual life, though not in physical life, during the period of tooth replacement can truly comprehend human development. Around the age of seven, the human being is truly born a second time. At that point, their etheric body is born into free activity, just as their physical body is at the time of birth. Just as the mother's womb works on the human embryo in the period before birth, so the spiritual forces of the world ether work on the human etheric body until the change of teeth, and around the age of seven they are pushed back in the same way as the mother's womb at physical birth. Until the age of seven, the etheric body lies dormant in the physical body. The etheric body is like a lit match at the time of the change of teeth. It is bound within the physical body and now emerges to perform its own free, independent activity. And the sign that heralds this free activity of the etheric body is precisely the change of teeth. For those who look more deeply into human nature, the change of teeth has a very significant position. When we have a human being before us up to the age of seven, the physical principle works freely in the physical body; but the etheric and astral principles are still bound and have not yet been born out of the spiritual sheaths.

When we consider the human being up to the age of seven, they contain a whole sum of hereditary facts that they have not built up with their own principle, but which they have inherited from their ancestors. This includes what are called milk teeth. Only the teeth that come after the change of teeth are the child's own creation of the principle that is physically predisposed to form the firm support. What is expressed in the teeth creates internally until the change of teeth, and at the end of its effectiveness it forms, as it were, the final point and produces the hardest part of the supporting organ in the teeth, because it still holds the etheric or life body bound within itself as the carrier of growth.

After this principle has been repelled, the etheric body becomes free and now creates the physical organs until sexual maturity, and then a shell, the outer astral shell, is pushed away, just as the mother's shell is pushed away at birth. Astralically, the human being is born for the third time at sexual maturity. And the active forces that were bound in the etheric body now bring their creative work in the human being to a conclusion by producing the capacity for sexual maturity, procreation, and their organs. Just as the physical principle reaches its conclusion in the seventh year through the teeth, creating the last hard organs and thereby freeing the etheric body, the growth principle, so the astral principle, at the moment it becomes free, creates the strongest concentration of drives and desires, of life expression, insofar as we are dealing with physical nature. Just as you have the physical principle concentrated in the teeth, so you have the growth principle in sexual maturity. There the astral body, the envelope of the ego, is free, and the ego now works on the astral body.

The European cultured person does not merely follow his instincts and desires; he has purified them and transformed them into moral feelings and ethical ideals. If we now compare a savage with an average European human being, or even with Schiller or Francis of Assisi, we can say that they have transformed and purified their instincts from the ego. We can thus say that this astral body always contains two parts: one that originates from the original predisposition, and one that the ego itself has given birth to. Now we can only understand the work of the ego if we realize that human beings are subject to reincarnation — repeated earthly lives — and that when a human being is born, they bring with them, as it were, in four separate bodies, the fruits and results of previous earthly lives, which are there as a measure of the energy and power of their life. One person is born because they have previously managed to transform their astral body with a great deal of life energy and strong forces. The other will soon become weary in this. If one could clairvoyantly examine how the ego begins to work freely on the astral body, to control the desires, drives, and passions from the ego, then one could say, if one were able to indicate the measure of energy that the ego has brought with it: this measure is so great that the ego will work on its transformation for so and so long and no longer. And after the time of sexual maturity, there is such a measure for every human being by which one can measure and indicate until when he has worked out everything from his astral body according to the pounds allotted to him in this life. What the human being is able to transform and purify in his mind in terms of life forces sustains itself. As long as this measure is sufficient, they live at the expense of the self-sustaining astral body. When it is exhausted, they no longer find the courage to transform new impulses, in short, no energy to work on themselves, then the thread of life breaks — and it must break once, according to a measure that is assigned to every human being. Then the time has come when the astral body must draw its strength from the principle of human life that is closest to it, from the etheric body. And now comes the time when the astral body lives at the expense of the strength stored in the etheric body; the expression of this is evident to human beings when their memory and productive imagination gradually fade away.

We have often heard here that the etheric body is the bearer of productive imagination and memory, of what is called hope and courage in life. These feelings, when they become a permanent element of the person, adhere to the etheric body. They are now sucked out by the astral body; and after the astral body has lived at the expense of the etheric body and sucked out everything it had to give, the time begins when the creative powers of the physical body are consumed by the astral body. And when these are consumed, the life force of the physical body wanes, the body hardens, and the pulse slows down. Finally, the astral body also consumes the physical body and takes away its strength. And once it has consumed it, there is no longer any possibility that the physical body can be maintained from the physical principle.

If the astral body is to become free and be born into the life and work of the ego, then it is necessary that in the second half of life, when the measure of work is exhausted, the freed astral body consumes its own shells just as they were formed. Thus, individual life is created from the ego.

Consider the following parable: Imagine a piece of wood that you set alight. If it were not as it is, you would not be able to set it alight. The flame springs forth from the wood, but at the same time it consumes it. It is the nature of the flame to become free from the wood and consume its own mother soil. Thus the astral body is born threefold, and like the flame consuming the wood, it consumes its own foundation; and therein lies the possibility that individual life can exist, because it consumes its own foundation. Death is the root of life for it, and there could be no conscious individual life if there were no death. We understand and comprehend death only by seeking to recognize its origin, and therefore we comprehend life by recognizing its relationship to death. In a similar way, we learn to understand the nature of disease, and this will make the nature of death even clearer to us. Every disease presents itself as a destroyer of life. What is disease?

To understand its nature, we must consider human beings in relation to nature. Let us clarify what happens when human beings, as living beings, face the rest of nature. With every breath of air, every sound, every morsel of food, every ray of light that they take in, human beings enter into an interrelationship with the nature that surrounds them. If you look at the matter closely, you will come to the conclusion, even without occultism, that the things outside are the actual formers and openers of the physical organs. When certain animals migrate into dark caves, their eyes degenerate over time. Where there is no light, there can be no light-sensitive eyes; conversely, only where there is light can light-sensitive eyes form. That is why Goethe says that the eye is formed by light for light. Of course, in the sense of what are called the actual inner architects, the physical body is built up. Man is a physical being, and external things are what, in harmony with the inner formers, build up the whole human being. Then the relationship of individual forces and substances to man will present a completely different picture. Those who have had the deep insight of the true mystic will be able to tell us a great deal here. For Paracelsus, the whole outer world is a human organism spread out like a fan, and the human being is like an extract of the whole outer world. When we see a plant, we can say, in the spirit of Paracelsus: There is a lawful connection in this plant, and there is something in the human being that corresponds to the healthy or diseased organism of this plant. That is why Paracelsus, for example, calls a cholera patient an “arsenic,” and arsenic is a remedy for cholera for him. Thus, there is a relationship between every organ of the human being and what is in nature around him. One would only need to take an essence of nature and shape it in a human-like form, and then one would have a human being. The individual letters are spread out throughout nature; if one puts them together, one has a human being. This gives you an idea of how the rest of nature affects human beings, and that human beings are called upon to compose their essence from the rest of nature. Everything that is within us has basically been drawn into us from the external world and incorporated into the life process. If we understand this mystery of the animation of external forces and substances, then we will be able to comprehend the nature of a disease.

This brings us to a chapter where it is difficult for today's educated person to understand how many concepts in medicine seem like a kind of fog. How suggestive it is today in meetings when someone as a naturopath utters the word “poison.” What is a poison, and what is an unnatural effect in the human organism? Whatever you introduce into the human organism acts according to the laws of nature. It is inconceivable how one can say that anything could not act according to the laws of nature in the body. And what is a poison? Water is a strong poison if you consume ten buckets of it at once; and what is poison today could have the most beneficial effects if it is administered to the body in the right way. It always depends on the quantity and the circumstances in which a substance is consumed. There is no such thing as poison per se.

In Africa, there is a tribe that uses a certain breed of dog for hunting. However, there is a type of fly there that carries a certain poison that kills the dogs when they are bitten by the flies. The savages of the Zambezi River have found a remedy for this sting. They take pregnant bitches to areas where there are large numbers of these tsetse flies and allow the bitches to be stung by the tsetse flies. The savages then arrange for the bitches to die only after they have given birth. And now it turns out that the young dogs are immune and can be used for hunting.

Something has happened that is so important for understanding life: a poison has been incorporated into a life process at the moment when a descending line merges into an ascending line, so that the poison becomes a substance belonging to the organism. What we have absorbed from the external world makes us strong and protects us.

Spiritual Science shows us that the entire human organism is built up in this way, so to speak, from things that were originally poisons. The food you enjoy today has been made edible after undergoing a similar process in the descending line to make it harmless. And the more of these substances we have incorporated in this way, the stronger we become. We weaken ourselves against external nature by rejecting its substances.

In areas where medicine is still based on occultism, the doctor throws his whole personality into the mix. There are cures in which the doctor ingests snake venom, for example, and then his saliva becomes a remedy for snake bites. He incorporates the poison into his own organism, thereby making himself the carrier of the healing powers, becoming strong and thus making others strong against the poison in question.

The most harmless thing the organism has has come about in this way. The organism needs to incorporate the external worlds and nature; but in doing so, it must also be given the opportunity to swing like a pendulum to the other side. When humans expose themselves to such substances — and they are exposed to them at every moment — there is always the possibility that the remedy will swing too far in its effect and cause harm, depending on whether the life body is suited to absorb it or not. This makes the organism strong against the substance if it is strong enough at that moment to absorb it. There is no way to escape illness if one wants to be healthy. Every opportunity to become strong against external influences is based on the possibility of having illness, of being sick. Thus, illness is the condition of health. This is a very real process. It is precisely the conclusion and gift of illness that strength must be acquired by human beings. What survives the swing of the pendulum bears the fruit of immunity from illness — and even beyond death.

Those who go a little further will gain a kind of understanding of the nature of illness and the nature of death. If we want strength and health, we must accept their prerequisite, illness. If we want to be strong, we must protect ourselves against weakness by accepting the weakness within ourselves and transforming it into strength. If we grasp this in a living way, it will make illness and death comprehensible to us. These concepts will be brought to humanity by the spiritual-scientific movement. Today, for many, this may still be something that appeals only to the intellect. But when the intellect has fully grasped the matter, it will bring about a deep, harmonious state of mind in human beings, and it will become wisdom for living.

Have you not heard that the anthroposophical truths drawn from occultism can even be dangerous? Do we not have numerous opponents who claim that anthroposophy is poisonous and harmful to people? Yes, anthroposophists and occultists themselves know that anthroposophy can also have a harmful effect; but they also know that it must be absorbed and incorporated in order to make people strong, and that it is not just something to be discussed, but something that proves itself in life as a spiritual remedy.

And Spiritual Science also knows that the physical is built up from the spiritual. When spiritual forces act on the etheric body, they also have a healthy effect on the physical body. If our mental images of the world and life are healthy, then these healthy thoughts are the most powerful remedies, and only on weak natures, which have become weak through materialism and naturalism, does what anthroposophy proclaims as truth have a sickening effect. They must internalize this in order to become strong. Only then has anthroposophy fulfilled its task, when it has produced strong people in life.

Goethe so beautifully resolved our question about life and death: Everything in nature is life; it invented death only to have more life. And so one could say: Alongside death, it also invented illness in order to produce strong health, and it necessarily had to admit the seemingly harmful effects of wisdom so that this wisdom could have a strengthening and healing effect on humanity.

It is precisely this that distinguishes the spiritual science world movement from other movements, namely that it can be debated and discussed if one demands that it prove itself logically. Anthroposophy should not be something that can be substantiated merely with logical arguments, but something that makes people spiritually and physically healthy. The more it shows its effects in life by elevating life in such a way that the pain of life is transformed into happiness, the more living proof there will be for it. No matter how much people today believe they can logically object to it, Spiritual Science is something that, like an apparent poison, is transformed into a remedy and then has a fertilizing effect on life. And it will not reveal itself in logic — it cannot simply be proven — it will prove itself in life.