The Problem of Death
GA 161
7 February 1915, Dornach
Lecture III
In connection with many painful events that have recently happened we have been considering the Problem of Death.
I should like to call your attention today first to something of a more general character which is connected with the problem and which can be discovered through the means given us by Initiation Science. One must picture to oneself that when the human being passes through the gate of death he comes into a world which is quite different for him from what is often imagined. It is a tendency in human nature which may very well be understood, to picture the realm on the other side of death, the spiritual kingdom into which we enter through the Gate of Death, as being similar to the kingdom of the mind and senses in which we live between birth and death. I say it is an understandable tendency to picture this kingdom on the other side of death somewhat as a kind of continuation of the kingdom here. But one is then in error. For it is difficult to find words from the treasures of our speech which make it possible to characterise the experiences between death and a new birth, words which are even in a slight degree adequate. I have, as you know, often mentioned that our speech is calculated for the physical world and we must, as it were, adjust our relation inwardly to the words if we wish to make them words capable of expressing that which lies on the other side of death.
Moreover the mode in which these words come forth from the soul when the soul must characterise something which lies on the other side of death is quite different from the mode in which words come forth from us in the world of the mind and senses. This mode of expressing oneself about the spiritual world, its beings and its phenomena is much more a self-surrender to this spiritual world and a letting oneself be bestowed upon the words.
Such words as I have communicated to you in respect of persons who have died were not formed as one forms words when one wants to bring something to expression in the outer physical world, but they were so formed as if they poured into one's soul from the being in question. So that the being gives them, pours them in, and we now have the feeling that—we are expressing something or other that we see through these words, but we have throughout the feeling: through us something is expressing itself, something that uses us to a certain extent, as its organ, in order to express itself, in order to objectify itself in spiritual speech. So it is quite a different proceeding, it is a self-surrender with one's soul to the being with whom one is concerned, and such a self-surrender that the being finds the possibility of expressing with our instruments its own inner nature and its own inner experiences. When one frames the word it is not like the adapting of oneself to something external, but like a surrender of the word to the being in question, like a placing of the word at this being's disposal, so that the being can then itself make use of our words.
Thus it is quite a different method of placing oneself in objectiveness, from the method here in the world of the mind and senses. One of the very first conditions, therefore, of gaining a right relation to the spiritual world, is a certain mobility of the inner nature, a certain adaptability to the most varied individuals, a continuous possibility of going out from oneself and betaking oneself into other individuals. If one really wants to express with a certain surety of aim—if I may put it thus—that which is in the supersensible world and lives therein, as is the case with one who has gone through the gate of death, one must first and foremost be healed of what can be called the earthly ego-delusion. One must have succeeded in thinking of oneself as little as possible, in setting oneself as little as possible in the central point of the universe. One must, if one has a strong predilection for speaking a good deal about oneself, for brooding a good deal over oneself, conquer this tendency; since this much speaking of oneself, much brooding over oneself, is actually the very worst path to self-knowledge. If one has the tendency to speak much of oneself, to judge everything so that first of all one is mindful of how one is oneself placed in the world, and what one signifies to the world, if one has this tendency, then one is badly fitted for finding oneself rightly in the spiritual world or for bringing anything at all of the spiritual to expression.
One is most occupied with oneself in the spiritual sense when in the earthly sense one is least so occupied, thinks about oneself least, for what in the earthly sense is the most interesting of all to us, the connection of the world with our own person, is for the spiritual world the most devoid of importance. So we shall always find that the way into the true spiritual reality becomes very difficult when at every opportunity we must find occasions, according to our inner nature, to speak of ourselves, to speak of what we could be worth to the world, if need be, and so forth—less or more.
If we employ these methods in ordinary life, which is also ruled inwardly by spiritual forces and impulses, we do not get on well. Here one can find the most remarkable connections. I have met with people who for instance greatly lamented that they found it extraordinarily difficult to get up, that the decision to lift themselves up was very difficult. I have even made the acquaintance of people who have calmly acknowledged that if there were no external circumstance compelling them to rise, on the whole they would prefer not to get up at all. One can always find an inner connection between the whole being of man and such a predilection. These people as a rule would be those who tell one much, very much about themselves, who have a great deal to say about what is sympathetic or antipathetic to them, what they have come across in this or that place, to their benefit or detriment ... and similar things. One who desires to prepare himself properly for a really objective grasp of the spiritual world must pay attention to such connections. For we must observe life if we wish to enter into reality. And you may be quite sure of this: as human beings, through our natural predisposition, there is nothing as a rule to which we are less disposed, than to take life objectively. We are to nothing so much inclined as to take ourselves in too much earnest and to observe outer life with too little earnestness. One only struggles through quite gradually to words which can then become really true guiding lines of life, and with great geniuses one can often see how they go through a great deal, in order then to impress their whole life-wisdom into a single word. Then this signifies something quite different from what it would when spoken by just anyone in the ordinary daily course.
I once drew attention—it was in connection with the lectures which I held in Norrköping—to how easily one can utter the great, the impressive words of the aged John: “Children, love one another.” But it means something quite different if a foolish person, some youngster says it, or if John says it at the end of a full life in which much, very much had been undergone here upon earth.
It is not only a matter of whether the saying is true, but also from what background of the soul it is spoken, from what background it arises. Goethe, too, from a rich, full life, wrestled through to a beautiful saying, the deep meaning of which one must fathom, though it cannot be understood as people imagine, using it in every situation of life. To understand it thus is—I should like to use the paradoxical term—far too simple, for to understand it thus is possible for every child. But as it must be understood, as Goethe understood it upon the foundation of a rich, and over rich life-experience—I refer to the words, “Know thyself and live in peace with the world”—is not possible to every child. But the linking together of these two sentences shows us that there is no self-knowledge which does not really lead to the sentence “Live in peace with the world.”
I really wanted to review all these things as much as possible in detail since they are far more important than you at first believe. But I must indicate them and leave much to your own meditation. I should like only to point out that, according to the statements of many persons there is a lack of material for meditation. put there is really no lack of it, if one only has the goodwill to let the meditation material be found in life, offer itself as such from life.
Now he who passes through the portal of death is directly, through this fact, removed from all the illusory relationships in which he lives, in which he is ensnared here, so long as he dwells in the physical body. He is removed from them for they were forced upon him as we know through the fact of his being incorporated in the physical body. He is above all removed from many functions which had become sympathetic to him in the life between birth and death, and which naturally, since he lacks the physical body, he can no longer carry out after death. The whole mode of living, of the relation to the universe, becomes a completely different one, and you can get an idea when you meditate upon the Vienna cycle “Life between Death and a New Birth”, of the quite different manner in which one must place oneself to the world if one desires to make concepts about this life between death and a new birth. One must only try, falteringly to coin the words which were sought for there, to experience them quite intimately. In such matters this is imperatively necessary.
I have already pointed out recently that the moment of death is really not to be compared with the moment of birth into physical human life except superficially. In the ordinary course of life, if one is not supported by clairvoyant knowledge, one does not remember back to the physical birth in the physical body. Through the capacities given us by the earth we remember no further back than the fact of being born—not even so far. If there are people today who believe that they know everything through the senses, they do not reflect that they cannot know the very origin of their earth-life through sense-impressions. They can only know it by being informed about their birth or by being told on the foundation of an often not consciously but in fact unconsciously accepted inference. There are only these two methods of knowing that one has been born if one has not the aid of clairvoyant forces;—to have it related to one, or to make a deduction, an inference—other men were born, I am similar to other men, therefore at some time I too was born. A correct deduction.
And any other method of arriving at the fact of one's own birth with earthly forces, except to be told about it, or to make this inference by analogy, any other method than these two does not exist for the faculties of earth, so already by the effort to come to a knowledge of our own birth we discover that it is not possible to find a foundation for the truth of it in mere experience of the senses. The moment of death is utterly dissimilar from the moment of birth, for one can always behold the moment of death, whereas one cannot with ordinary earthly faculties in the physical body behold the moment of birth. In the spiritual world in the time between death and new birth one can always behold the moment of death from the instant when one has brought it for the first time to one's consciousness. There it stands although not perhaps as we see it with its terror, from this side of life, but it stands there a wonderfully beautiful event of life, as a coming forth of the soul and spirit nature of the human being from the physical-sensible sheath, it stands there as the liberation of the Willing and Feeling impulses from the fleeting, the objective fleeting Thought-being.
That directly after death a person is not in a position to behold this moment of death immediately, is connected with the fact that we have, not too little consciousness, after death, after the entrance of death, but on the contrary, that we have too much consciousness. Only remember what is said in the Vienna lectures, that we find ourselves not in too little wisdom but in too much wisdom, in an unending, overflowing wisdom pressing upon us from all sides. To be without wisdom is impossible to us after death. This comes over us like a light, flooding us from every direction, and we must first succeed in circumscribing ourselves, in orientating ourselves, where to begin with if we are not orientated. Thus through this circumscribing of the whole highly-pitched consciousness down to the degree of self-consciousness which we can bear in accordance with our earthly preparation for death, we come to that which we call “the awakening” after death.
We awake directly after death too vividly, and we must first diminish this awakening to the degree corresponding to the faculties which we have prepared for ourselves through our experiences in our various earth-incarnations. So it is a struggle to stand our ground in the consciousness breaking in upon us from all sides.
And now comes something in which we must all—both after death and also if we would rightly enter Initiation—first cure ourselves, as it were, of the habits of the physical-sensible life. In order to be thoroughly understood I should like to link this on to something. When we began in Berlin to carry on our movement of Spiritual Science in quite a small circle, we were at first joined by various people. We were at that time a very small circle. One day not long after we had begun to work, a member of this circle came and explained that he must withdraw again. He had seen that we were not on the right path, for it was not a matter of seeking all the things that we sought, but of seeking Unity. That was an idee fixe with this person. In a long conversation he developed the fixed idea of Unity and then left us in order to seek unity. He thought to arrive at the supersensible just through this seeking for Unity, through this idee fixe of Unity. But the idea of oneness or unity is something only resulting from the last abstractions of the outer physical life. This striving after oneness is in fact the most material towards which one can strive. It is precisely of this oneness-striving that one must be cured if one wishes to stand correctly in the spiritual world. Here in the sense world it is so easy to say: we must seek oneness everywhere, we must seek unity in the plurality, in the multiplicity. But that is something which only has significance for the physical sense world here. For when we pass through the gate of death then we do not have multiplicity, but something which comes before our soul as an overwhelming consciousness. When we have passed through the portal of death we have nothing but oneness around us, continuous oneness. It is then a matter of rightly finding plurality, multiplicity. We must strive there for nothing else than to come out of oneness into multiplicity.
Now I should like to give you a correctly formed idea of how a person comes into multiplicity out of oneness. Let us suppose that one passes through the portal of death, enters into this world of surging spiritual life of wisdom. One enters first into this world, which to begin with stupefies us when we awaken there. We do not distinguish ourselves within it at all. So much is it oneness that we do not distinguish ourselves in it, we do not make a differentiation between ourselves and the universe, but rather we belong completely to the universe; all is one.
But now let us answer the question, and I pray you to ponder not a little but very much upon the answer that I will give. Now we reply to a question: What actually is this oneness into which we are there received? Remember all the beings of the higher hierarchies of which nine are known to you, or ten if we count mankind. In each hierarchy is a whole host of beings. These all think. It is not man alone who thinks. All the beings of these higher hierarchies think. Consider therefore this whole host of beings in whom we are received when we have stepped through the portal of death. They are around us, for in stepping through the portal of death we are received by the complete fullness of being. At first we do not perceive them. We are within them, but we do not perceive them. That which surges around us at first is just this oneness. But what is this oneness? It is the thoughts of all the hierarchies merging into one another. What all the hierarchies think together; this thought-world of the hierarchies indistinguished as to what one hierarch, what the other hierarch thinks;—this is the Light-Being of Thought that surges round us, this oneness.
Therefore we live in the thoughts of the hierarchies flowing together to a oneness. Therein we live.
And now what is the further course of our life after death? Our concern is to gain a relation to the separate beings, to lift ourselves out of the ocean of thought where all the thoughts of the hierarchies flow together, and to gain a relation to the single beings, to the multiplicity. After death we must not only gain a relation to the commingled unity of the surging Thought-essence of the hierarchies—for that is given to us, but we must work through so that we gain a relationship to the single beings of the hierarchies. How do we gain this?
Now at first we are flooded with this ocean of the thoughts of the hierarchies merging and flowing together. Through what we have acquired for ourselves in our physical body there condenses at the gate of death to which we look back, our own inner being lifting itself out of the material coverings. That gives us strength of will. That gives a will-impulse of a feeling nature, and a feeling-impulse of a will-nature. These we inwardly become aware of in beholding the being which ascends from the body which we are after death. Through this we are in the position to some extent of attracting our “will-rays.” And when we place such a will-ray somewhere, which we create out of the force of death, which is born with death, then we obliterate at another place, and at a third place, etc. at various places through the strength of our will-impulse we obliterate the thought-world surging around us. And inasmuch as we obliterate it there comes to meet us in the hollow space of the surging ocean of thought, if I may say so, the thought of a hierarch, the being that lives within it in the spiritual world.
Whereas here in the physical world we exert ourselves to find a thought for the thing which we see, in the spiritual world, where, as I have pointed out, thought stands in profusion at one's beck and call, we must obliterate the thought, drive it away. Then the beings approach us. We must be master of the thoughts, then the beings approach us. And the strength to become master of the thought, to cast the thought out of our field of sight, as it were, whereby the being approaches us in the sea of the surging thought-world, this strength we receive through the fact that as a beautiful beginning of our spiritual life after death the vision of dying, of death itself, comes to meet us, and becomes our teacher in the obliterating. For death becomes to us after death the teacher of obliterating, the stimulator of that will force wherewith we must obliterate the thoughts in the surging sea of light.
Herewith is indicated the entirely different manner in which the human being stands to his surroundings after death and before; how he must proceed in the world of the senses by establishing himself there, having the atmosphere around him and then being obliged to wait until something comes into the atmosphere. On the other hand, after death he must so proceed that he has the Light-sphere of Thought around him and within it he must then himself obliterate the thoughts that lie before him in his field of vision, in which the beings concerned then appear to him. For here one has to do with beings, as I have indicated in my book, “The Threshold of the Spiritual World.” Thus one comes out of unity into multiplicity. Monism in the sense understood by many people is only a world-concept for the Gate of Death. For there in the most marked degree an urgent necessity arises for seeking multiplicity. To seek oneness is a last fetter, a theoretical fetter of life as understood by the senses.
But what is it then that we actually accomplish there? Well, it is an activity by which we make room for the hierarchies to approach us. Our being, as you know, is then spread over the whole universe (I have repeatedly spoken of this,) and we make room by creating these hollow places, as it were, so that what is objective to us after death, can appear. Never can what is objective in the spiritual world appear to us if we take our own being into the spiritual world; we can only discern the other in the spiritual world if on the spot where the other is to appear we obliterate our own being; and that happens in this way.
This is an inner characterization of the process which is also necessary if we wish to reach the dead in the manner I described to you at the beginning of the lecture, where one has to acquire the power of letting the dead speak, of letting the dead express themselves. One must then try to drive away one's thinking and feeling from where the dead is, to drive away oneself, and where one has driven that away, impulses come forth from the depth of being which, without our will, place the words in our mouth which must come to us if we wish to express the objective being of one who is not incorporated in the physical body.
You see, that which here in the physical world is in a way the weakest in man, willing and feeling, (they are the weakest parts of the human soul and the most unclear), over which we are least master, gains a special significance if we are to perceive in the spiritual world. On the other hand, that which here in the physical world is the strongest of all, thought-concepts—we prefer to live, as you know, in illusion and concepts, since there we can be most dominant—is the weakest in the spiritual world. One cannot make much beginning there with illusions, for illusions still disguise for us this overflowing oneness of thought-essence. Our concern is not an exercising of the life of thought, but a development of our life of will and feeling, and this too is the essential in meditation. In meditation it does not matter so much what we picture, but, as I have emphasised repeatedly, to picture with inner strength. it is a matter of inner energy, of feeling and sensation while we meditate, that is, of a will element which we develop in meditation, and which we develop more strongly if we have so to exert ourselves as in meditation we ought to exert ourselves, spiritually exert ourselves. What is most opposed of all to real progress in the spiritual world is the longing to dream, the longing to form illusions about outer reality, because in this way we make our will continually weaker and weaker. One makes the will weakest of all if one cultivates the parasites of the life of idea, if one makes illusions for oneself over all sorts of external things. Above all, the way into the spiritual world does not draw near to us by our holding life at a distance, but by understanding that not an impoverishment of the outer life, but only an enrichment, can lead into the spiritual world. People would like so much to grow into the spiritual world through weakness and not through strength. One grows into the spiritual world by weakness if the outer world, the world of life, does not interest one, when one cannot fulfill the Goethe maxim “Know thyself, and live in peace with the world.”
I should like to point out before I go further in these studies of death, that in all human activity of an artistic nature there must lie as foundation a “playing in” of that activity of the human soul which is necessary for this human soul after death. As regards artistic activity it is precisely the will-element which must be impregnated into the artist from the spiritual world, not so much the element of observation. In our age of the decay of art and especially of artistic labour, the opposite is taking place. In our age of degeneration that element is being elaborated even in the artistic world, which makes the conceptual life more sophisticated. Therefore in our age, artists are becoming more and more dependent on models and copies. They can do extremely little if they have no models or copies. Hence in our age it will come about more and more that the artist will isolate himself in his art. But it can never reach real art if one isolates oneself in art. That is the opposite of what ought to be.
What happens, then, if someone is creating a human being through art, in painting or sculpture, and he does not occupy himself with the inner forces which build up this human being, with the dynamic forces, but merely goes out and gets a model and uses the model as one uses things in looking at them? He is then departing from the real principle of artistic creation. Artistic creation begins when one creates an inwardly willed picture of how the nose stands out here, of how the forehead is vaulted there; one does not see the things outwardly, but can penetrate into them inwardly. That is what matters.
And so in a special way it is also the case with nature. In nature it is a matter of really living within the activities of nature. And here I will call your attention to something which the human being immediately experiences when he has passed through the portal of death, which here, in the physical world, however, remains more or less unknown to him.
When we paint, we paint preferably that which is spread, one might say, over the surface of things. We paint light and shade. We paint colours. Now outer nature is furnished with light and colour from the fact that she does not accept them, but throws them back. Over there is the object and it throws us back light and colour. That is between us and the object. Mineral things are, for instance, minerals, because they cannot receive light and colour, within, because they reflect them externally. There within the colour, man lives with his soul. After death he withdraws into it at once; there he knows himself in light and colour, but here he does not know himself within them. When he comes before the landscape as landscape painter, he must have something of what is between him and the landscape, he must be able to rise into it, he must, as it were, bring something into the physical world which only actually becomes reality when the human being has passed through the gate of death. This gives the similarity between artistic creation and the standing within the spiritual world, although the artist is for the most part unaware that the spiritual world pulsates and flows through him, nor is he conscious of the necessity of being pulsated through by the spiritual world. Precisely on this account the design of our building has been made as it has been made, because we must pay attention as I have often said, just to what is not there, not to what is there. Just the hollow forms which have been left free have to be considered, not what is actually there. In so far, through carrying our stream of Spiritual Science into the practical domain, a beginning has been made which had to be made in our present epoch of culture.
You see, such inter-penetrations of the spiritual world into human life as through, let us say, the Death Spectrum, were by no means so unusual in times lying not so very far behind us. Today it is something unusual, and as a natural gift it will become more and more unusual. It will occur less and less as a natural gift. But the less the human being here in the physical world can form some kind of connection with the spiritual manifoldness, the more he will be fettered when he has passed through the gate of death. The possibility of creating those hollow forms would entirely cease if mankind should quite lose connection with the spiritual world, as must necessarily happen in the mere external progress of world events. We know that the old clairvoyance must become entirely lost. but if that inner relation to the spiritual world were not to be re-established through Spiritual Science, a man would gradually lose the possibility, after death, of actually living in the spiritual world, of having a real, actual existence. Through the backward-survey of his life, which always remains for him, where the beholding of death is something quite actual, he would be spell-bound, almost as if confined in a prison.
Therefore in the case of those who, if I may say so, go through the gate of death strengthened by Spiritual Science, it is to be seen that comparatively quickly after death they gain freedom, free activity in the spiritual world. Hence the point is for a man to replace by the strengthening of Spiritual Science what was earlier given to him by natural aptitude—the gaining of a relation to the super-sensible, to spiritual phenomena.
If from a natural aptitude one can see something like a Death Spectrum (and people in earlier times which do not lie so far behind us used always to see the death-spectrum—only it is a lost faculty)—one sees this death-spectrum through the separation from the body. This enables one to see the single, individual phenomena. These single phenomena are carved out of the oneness ... and that is the important thing ... this carving out of the oneness ... to learn how to do this. But the possibility of learning how to do it is entirely lost with the loss of the natural, atavistic clairvoyance, and it must be replaced by growing into Spiritual science. It will be this strengthening given by Spiritual Science, through which the necessary faculty for artistic creation in every sphere will be called forth in the future. The sculptor, the painter, the poet, will not be able to create if they do not strengthen themselves through Spiritual Science. Today people are still afraid of this. But the fear which comes to expression when a musician, a painter, a poet, says: ‘Since I have to engage in and struggle with all manner of things this kills the original artistic creative power in me’—can be heard everywhere. This is only a fear of the strength that is necessary if the domain of human art is really to last into the future. Men are still afraid today of what in their inner being must come forth precisely as the strongest force. Times will come in human evolution where artistic faculties must ripen through the strengthening acquired through Spiritual Science.
Then, at all events, there will be less of the scandalous thing that is prevalent today, namely, that in very early youth and out of nothingness, people vaunt themselves artists and are, in their own opinions, artists.
When this kind of art does not succeed, they think it is entirely due to lack of appreciation on the part of the world. This nonsensical state of things will gradually cease. The art of the future will be an art of maturity and it will not be until a comparatively late age in life that a man will feel inwardly mature enough to engage in art. it will no longer be believed that in later life it is impossible for a man to have the forces requisite for artistic creation—forces of youth as they are often called; far rather will it be found that only by the deepening and strengthening acquired through Spiritual Science can the forces that will lead to artistic creation in the future be liberated from the inner being. But people are still afraid of these forces today. They are afraid of what has to be attained. Many artists have a holy terror of this emergence of the inner depths of their being, and when they hear that it is not the external, earthly man, but the higher man within them who should be the creative artist, they are thrown into the most utter confusion. It is difficult to imagine more complete confusion than that of a certain modern artist when he realised that it is the Genius in the inner man, the being who belongs to the spiritual world, who is really the creator in the artist. An artist of modern times expressed his holy terror of the spiritual world in approximately the following words:
“Genius is a terrible disease. In the heart of every writer there is a monster who devours his feelings directly they have been born. Who will be victorious—the disease over the man or the man over the disease? A man must be great indeed if he is to hold the balance between his character and his genius. If a poet is not a giant, if he does not possess the strength of a Hercules, he must either forfeit his heart or his talent.”
The very flesh of one's soul, so to speak, creeps when such words are uttered. For they are simply an expression of the holy terror which exists in the human being in regard to things that are connected with the spiritual world. Moreover the last sentence is quite consistent, although the author is unaware of how consistent it is ... The fact that he speaks of giants, of Hercules, is very characteristic. It is very significant that precisely these words come into his mouth—or rather into his pen.
So the view may actually be held that the human being must be victorious by virtue of what he is in earthly life ... for this is contained in the words, whereas true knowledge will reveal that the healthy genius within a man will penetrate and take hold of him, will make him into its instrument.
Another modern writer refers and adds to the sentences I have just read, in strange, extremely strange words. He says: “Let us picture the tragic destruction of Laocoön as described in the Aenead. With natural horror and repugnance the citizens of Troy witness the gigantic snakes strangling Laocoön and his sons. The spectators feel fear, compassion and certainly wish to save the victims; however different their conditions of soul may be, nevertheless the moment of will undoubtedly plays a very important part ... but just imagine a sculptor in the midst of this shocked and excited crowd, a sculptor who sees the terrible catastrophe taking place before his eyes as the subject of a future work of art. Amid the general excitement of these shouting, frenzied, praying people, he remains the unruffled observer. All moral instincts in him are at this moment suppressed by the desire for aesthetic experience.”
This, forsooth, is supposed to be necessary for the creation of a work of art: A crowd of people who are not artists stand there with deep compassion, unable to help, and together with them, a simpleton, a dunderhead, who has no inkling of the pain caused by it all. And this dunderhead is supposed to be the true artist who is capable of portraying the scene; he stands there in his stupidity merely as an observer: Things have come to such a pass at the present time that people dare to demand of the artist that he shall be a dunderhead when faced with life's phenomena, in order that he may be “objective.” He must tear compassion and sympathy out of his heart; he must become a dull-headed simpleton and only then, according to what is said here, will he be able to depict something capable of interesting other human beings.
When people have it in them to evolve such a view of art, they cannot help being seized by the most terrible of all Ahrimanic forces. Such a view denotes the decadence of art that is produced by the fear and dread of spiritual reality. People do not know that if a man wants to be an artist he must feel events with still deeper sympathy, still deeper compassion and must be able, at a later moment to look at the same events objectively out of this deep sympathy, making us love them as we may love a being who is strange to us. Out of this still deeper quality of sympathy we must be capable of art that is creative. The perversion of outlook has reached such a point today that the opposite of truth is trumpeted forth to the world as consummate wisdom. And I am convinced that there are infinite numbers of people who consider this dullness very clever and who regard this laudation of insensitive stupidity in the artist as the final discovery of what art really is. Such is the present day and it is for us to seek in Spiritual Science that support and strengthening which enable us to realise that we ourselves are living in the world into which the human being also enters, in the natural course of events, when he passes through the Gate of Death.
For us, art is related to death; it is related to the higher life: to be related to death means to be related to higher life.
In order to enter the spiritual world we must in many respects be capable of ideas and mental pictures quite different from those which must fill us for the purpose of understanding the world we experience between birth and death. We must pierce through Maya not only in such a way that we take this Maya to be the same everywhere, thinking that when we have broken through it at one point we are already in the spiritual world. The density of Maya is different at different places in life. This we shall find when we confront diverse spheres of life.—Maya is woven out of different materials. Although it is Maya, it is woven out of different materials at different places in life.
Suppose we get to know a child in its physical existence; we form ideas about the being of the child, ideas built up from our experiences of meeting the child in the physical body. There could be no greater error than to carry this picture into the spiritual world for the purpose of really getting to know this being when it has passed through the Gate of Death.
In the death of Theo Faiss, a terribly touching karmic event has happened among us recently. It would be a false picture of him if we were merely to enlarge the idea we formed of this child as we met him in the physical world, if we were simply to project this picture into the spiritual world. In just such a being the very greatest maturity can be observed soon after death. We can find the forces which brought the child into the physical world through birth—and which have not been allowed by karma to live themselves out in the physical world—we can find these forces interwoven in the cosmic forces and we gradually realise that a mature soul has struggles through death to cosmic existence, is growing little by little towards the heavenly spheres. And when such a soul was a child in the last incarnation we can perceive that this soul is able, comparatively quickly, to develop to the point where it directs the forces that are now merging into the cosmos. Then we learn to know the human being as he is after death; it is as though with his own being he were directing the forces which were contained in his death spectrum and are now weaving themselves into the cosmos. Thus the human being grows into that creative activity which we may call the heavenly creative activity. Then his feeling that is coloured by will, and the element of will that is coloured by feeling, grow together with the universe outside him. Just as when we, as children in the physical body, gradually adapt ourselves with our sense-organs to the external world, just as we then grow into the faculty of vision, so do we grow, after death, into the essential realities we grow into the unfolding of will.
If we allowed these things to work upon us in the sense of Spiritual Science, we should observe, little by little, how the Maya of external life is woven with different strengths at different places. Maya is difficult to pierce in cases like the death of a little child, because most of the external manifestations disturb what must replace them if we are to have a true picture of what the human being is after death.
But there are also human beings with whom it is comparatively easy to pierce through the warp and woof of Maya; it is easy because the truth of their being has been able to connect itself deeply even with the Maya existing in them in the physical world between birth and death. There are such men, men who bring down treasures of inner, spiritual richness at their birth into the physical world and who are able to weave into their being and life what they have brought down from the spiritual world. They are those human beings whom we needs must love because of what the Creators in their love have made of them; often we do not ask why we love them; love for them is a matter of course. Such human beings are like living witnesses to the spiritual world, because even here in the physical world they are extraordinarily like their own spiritual being, and because the web of Maya only through the existence of love, of course, but through this very love—can very soon be dispersed, enabling us to gaze into the depths of the soul.
Our attitude to such human beings must have a certain delicacy, a certain intimate delicacy because they have brought down a very, very great deal from the spiritual world into physical existence and because then, after death, they stand like living witnesses to the profound truth that the impulses of the spiritual world live on in all the manifestations of this physical world. If we behold such human beings after their death, it is as though they were wanting to say to us: Thus were we before and the fact that we lived in such deep, and inward truth is now confirmed when we have passed through the Gate of Death.—Thus do they stand as apostles of faith after death too, as apostles of the faith which allows us to have belief in the life we spend here in the physical world.
Since the death of our friend Sybil Colaxxa, she too stands there like an apostle of the faith that the world in which we live is permeated with spirituality. And here it is necessary to explain why the strange thing happened in her case that the sight of her spiritual being confirmed what she revealed through the sheaths of external life in the physical world to everyone who knew and learned to love her. Hence the different tone in the words that had to be spoken out of her soul; it was because her essential quality as an individual was precisely that quality of which I have just spoken:
... And permeated are these beings
Through thy voice so eloquent
By the nature of the Word
Rather than the Word itself
Revealing what is latent
Within thy noble soul.
Mark well that the presentation of the past, the use of the imperfect tense, passes over into the present, the present tense, because observation of the life in the body harmonised with the vision of the life after death. This is expressed in the words themselves. Words that are coined out of the spiritual world contain their own necessity. Thus the words had to be: This Being filled with soul they voice, a voice which, eloquent more through the quality of the words than the words themselves, revealed what lay hidden within that soul, and is working on, existing. “... Existing” therefore, not “existed.”
But this being, silently unveiling
Itself to sacrificing love
Of sympathetic man;
This being, proclaiming lofty, calm beauty
To the susceptible perception
Of World-Soul creation.
Here the two periods of time flow together.
Now let us think of a soul like Fritz Mitscher, a friend who, to our great pain, has died so recently. The nature of this soul can best be described by those who knew him in words which may sound abstract and dry, but which really do express it: he was an objective human being. Fritz Mitscher was an absolutely objective human being. There can hardly have been any occasion when he spoke about himself. Even if he ever did, it only seemed that he was speaking of himself in describing his relations to something or other in the external world. His “I” was practically never even on the horizon ... let alone at the centre of what he said. It is natural for an elder person when he is speaking with a younger one about all kinds of things in life to bring the conversation back to himself, but it was characteristic of Fritz Mitscher that when opportunity was there for him to speak of himself, he avoided it, and diverted the conversation from himself to what he had experienced round about him, describing it with the art he had acquired from Spiritual Science. In the true sense of the word he was an objective human being. He did not think about what he signified to the world, about the position of his own “I” in the world. His interests were all purely objective, interests which express themselves so characteristically when a man is little concerned about the position he gains in the world. Fritz Mitscher was one of those men who, from the very beginning, was passionately eager, even in passing conversation, to convey to others with absolute objectivity the truths he held most sacred; this eagerness was always present because he was one of those who are interested in the cause itself and not in the person and the position of the individual personality in the world. And when he spoke before an audience he entered into the subject with the greatest purity, never losing his way in the psychical impurity of speaking about himself. It was this that was so characteristic of him. And it was this that made him so eminently capable of grasping the world in such a way that through the medium of the idea, the thought, the mental picture, he really entered into the world; he did not become remote from the world but really entered into it. And so through thought, through idea, he lived right into world-connections, lived together with the world, lived in his “I”—because he spoke so little of himself—and not only in his skin, but right into the heart of things. it is really only human beings of this kind who truly understand ideals in the world, life in ideas and in morals. To live in ideas and ideals is not merely to have ideas and ideals; ideas and ideals are easily come by, they can be picked as easily as blackberries. What matters is not that a man has ideas and ideals, but that he has them in the purity of the life of thought, and human beings without number shirk this purity. They flee from thought in hosts. My dear friends, we need only call up the Imagination, the real imagination of pure thinking, of the life in pure thought, in sense-free thoughts and ideas; we need only picture this pure wellspring of soul-existence and then try to place the specters of human beings around it, and we shall find that in whole hosts they flee from this pure spring of the sense-free world of thought. They say: “But this is barren, dry, it is something that tears love out of one's heart, it is cold, icy.” And they flee in hosts; only a few stand steadfast in purity of soul. These few are the true philosopher-souls, the men who are really gifted for philosophy. And such men as Fritz Mitscher belong to them.
That is why it is almost a matter of course for such souls to grow into their connections in the most natural possible way—or, better said, for their karma to bring them into these connections. In the case of Fritz Mitscher this was so in a high degree. It could never be noticed in him that he sought any position out of an intention formed in physical life. He always allowed himself to be led to his tasks by the flow of karma. Here again you have those truly philosophical natures who will always have to be led to their tasks rather than that they will press forward to some task out of egotistical will. For these truly philosophical natures know all too well in their deep feelings and in their impulses too, that a man is, in reality, never ripe for a task, that only immeasurable vanity can give rise to the belief that he is mature, and he always anticipates in advance something that can only be achieved later on. when a man has only a little of this attitude, he feels in his life something of an inner calling. And the life then will be filled, as it were, with the: “Know thyself!” Knowledge of the self is best attained when a man speaks and thinks little of his “I”. his work and labours in life will then be permeated by the: “Know thyself, live with the world in peace!”
Such was Fritz Mitscher's motto. A life like this continues in the spiritual world and remains what it was, save that in the spiritual world the fruit grows from the seed. In such cases we must abandon the point of view—for it would be unreal—which would make us ask: “What would have come out of such a being if he had been able to stay longer in the physical world?” This is an unreal point of view. The real point of view leads us to the greatness, the wonder of such a soul being taken up into the spiritual worlds. What this soul is now called upon to achieve in the spiritual worlds is related to the experiences between birth and death as the fruit of the plant to the seed, so that the life here is actually revealed as a seed for the spiritual life after death. And so when a being who has lived in objectivity is seen after death, words which characterise this objectivity of outlook in life inevitably sink into the soul, but they are words which also characterise the relationship to the surrounding world, how the whole being stood right within the world. It was necessary to speak of Fritz Mitscher in this way. The characteristic element in these words was precisely this difference between the seed here and the plant which develops in yonder world. This is how I explain to myself the words being as they were
... A loss that deeply pains us,
So you vanish from the field
Where the Spirits earthly germs
in the lap of Soul-existence
Matured to vision of the spheres ...As a hope and as a blessing
You appeared upon the field
Where the earthly blooms of Spirit
Could to seekers be revealed
Through the powers of the Soul.To essential love of truth
Your desire was related;
Creation from the Spirit light
Was your fervent aim in life
To which you restlessly aspired ...As a hope and as a blessing
You appeared upon the field
Where the earthly blooms of Spirit
Could to seekers be revealed
Through the powers of the Soul.List to our Souls' petitions
Sent to you with confidence;
Here we need for earthly labours
Vigorous pow'rs from Spiritland
Which we owe to our dead friends.A firm hope—for us a blessing
A great loss that deeply pains:
Let us hope that far or near
You may still ilume our life—
A soul-star in the Spirit Sphere.
Fritz Mitscher was an individuality who became, in an outstanding degree, what many of our dead friends have actually become since they entered into the spiritual world. They become our most effective co-workers in the field of the spiritual life we have to cultivate; they become those to whom we look upwards with special gratitude when we have to think of the tasks of the present and future spiritual evolution, tasks that can be fulfilled only slowly and with difficulty within earth-existence with the forces that are incarnated in physical bodies. In thinking of friends who have passed through the Gate of Death, including our friend Morgenstern, it always seems to me to be right to ask that they will remain among us in order that through their forces much will be able to be done in our spiritual movement that it is impossible to do with earthly forces alone.
It is this that must be sent as a last greeting from the Earth to such individualities, and it must be expressed clearly and emphatically in connection with Fritz Mitscher, a dear friend who with his youthful forces will be our strong helper, a true consolation when consolation is needed. And it is often needed.
Especially during the most recent period of our work, creative activities and striving, so many things have made us realise how great are the hindrances of the physical plane—truly they are not imagined hindrances—how stubbornly the prejudices of human beings oppose what must be achieved among us, and how violent the opposition often is.
We need only take one such example.—People outside our stream of Spiritual Science write pamphlets ... Truly I am not saying these things for personal reasons, because I feel myself to be only a feeble instrument of the spiritual movement that has to bear us ... Pamphlet after pamphlet is written with the object of declaring that our adherents accept everything without putting it to the test, accept it in faith and belief and confidence; it is suggested that nothing exists among us except blind faith. Our movement is described by the outside world as if all our adherents were credulous simpletons, simply running after the confidence they feel. So it is in the outside world.
But within the precincts, this confidence—if we mean a confidence that exists in the deep foundations of souls and does not merely lie in words—this confidence is often by no means so conspicuous. There is a great contradiction between what we are accused of in pamphlets and what ought to exist in such rich abundance within the precincts of our society. There is yawning contradiction! I say what I have to say here without criticism and above all without bitterness, without in the least wanting to hit at any single personality—but concerning many things I said here in the autumn, it has been stated in writings that Dr. Steiner hawks about his occult researches into such matters—meaning matters about which I have spoken ... he hawks about his occult powers in connection with the things that were spoken about. If it has been possible for such a thing to have been written, then it is a clear proof of the fact that the element of which we are accused in the world is by no means so firmly rooted in the deeper forces of the souls among us, although in many ways it may exist in the upper maya of consciousness. Let it be said once and for always that the teaching presented here is based upon no principle of authority whatever, and belief in it as dogma is never demanded. It is given in order that it may be tested in all details. But for anyone to set himself up as a kind of judge as to what I myself should include in my occult investigations and exclude from them—this is a spiritual tyranny which most certainly is not born of the element that must be present in the Society, although up to a certain point it need not be present for the purpose of taking in spiritual Science; this is a spiritual tyranny emanating from unconscious lack of confidence. Confidence is not needed for the purpose of receiving teachings; but confidence is needed for the realization that it is not for the spiritual investigator to be told what he has to bring from the spiritual world but that it must be Presumed that the representative of Spiritual Science knows himself what he has to do; he has himself to decide what falls within the field of his investigations. Confidence is needed here; this kind of confidence can never be unprofitable to the movement, because it does not transcend the limits of the personal and does not touch the teaching. But a fact like this denotes—as many similar facts denote—that great obstacles and hindrances do exist and that within our spiritual movement we must carry out as a duty—far removed from anything that looks like desire in our work—what leads from insight into inner necessity. This duty will always be done, however sourly, it is done (‘sourly’ according to the ordinary meaning of the word.) But precisely when we realise that we may give to our dear Dead a kind of personal charge to be together with our forces, then there arises for our movement a feeling of security which the physical world could never afford.
And so, in thinking of our beloved Dead, there flows into our movement and into its impulses, something that is supersensible, not springing from what we have here, something that could never, in the physical world itself, give wings to our work. It is possible for supersensible impulses to flow into the Maya of our society-activities, for us to feel secure—because what we do, contains not merely the forces of the physical plane but supersensible forces too. Our beloved Dead have remained with us, although not in physical existence, and we therefore feel security in work which feels itself to be within the flow of spiritual evolution:
“List to our Souls' petitions
Sent to you with confidence:
Here we need for earthly labours
Vigorous pow'rs from Spiritland
Which we owe to our dead friends.”
So do we speak with reality of our beloved Dead as companions, co-workers, as those who are invisibly among us. Thus concretely do we seize the invisible being, giving the hand physically for the last time to the friend in the visible world and then receiving this hand spiritually, after death from the supersensible world. In this exchange of hand-clasps we have the symbol for work within a Society that is not intended to be a mouthpiece for the physical world but is to call the supersensible worlds too, into its activities. For such work, for such activities, we want to build a centre on this hill. May there be a home here for this work!
Siebenter Vortrag
Wir haben Betrachtungen angestellt über dasjenige, was man nennen kann das Problem des Todes, und wir haben angeknüpft an mancherlei ja auch in Schmerz getauchte Erlebnisse der letzten Zeit.
Zunächst möchte ich heute auf einiges Allgemeinere aufmerksam machen, was mit diesem Problem des Todes zusammenhängt und was erforscht werden kann durch die Mittel, die uns die Initiationserkenntnis eben an die Hand gibt. Man muß sich durchaus vorstellen, daß der Mensch, wenn er die Pforte des Todes durchschreitet, allerdings in eine für ihn ganz andere Welt kommt, als dies oftmals gedacht wird. Es ist ja ein begreiflicher Hang der menschlichen Natur, daß man sich das Reich jenseits des Todes, überhaupt das geistige Reich, in das wir eintreten durch die Pforte des Todes, ähnlich vorstellt wie das Reich der Sinne und des Verstandes, in dem wir sind zwischen der Geburt und dem Tode. Ich sage, es ist ein begreiflicher Hang, sich dieses Reich jenseits des Todes gewissermaßen wie eine Art von Fortsetzung des hiesigen Reiches vorzustellen; allein man irrt damit. Denn schwierig ist es schon, aus dem Schatz unserer Sprache heraus Worte zu finden, die es möglich machen, die Erlebnisse zwischen dem Tode und einer neuen Geburt auch nur einigermaßen hinlänglich zu charakterisieren. Ich habe ja öfter erwähnt, daß unsere Sprache für die physische Welt bereitet ist, und daß wir gewissermaßen unser Verhältnis zu den Worten verinnerlichen müssen, wenn wir die Worte fähig machen wollen, dasjenige auszudrücken, was jenseits des Todes ist.
Es ist ja auch die Art, wie diese Worte aus der Seele herauskommen, wenn die Seele charakterisieren soll irgend etwas, was jenseits des Todes liegt, eine ganz andere, als die Art ist, wie die Worte in der sinnlichen Welt und in der Verstandeswelt aus uns herauskommen. Es ist vielmehr diese Art, sich über die geistige Welt, ihre Wesenheiten und ihre Erscheinungen auszusprechen, ein Sich-Hingeben an diese geistige Welt und ein Sich-erteilen-Lassen der Worte.
Solche Worte, wie ich sie Ihnen gestern mitgeteilt habe mit Bezug auf unsere liebe Frau Grosheintz, werden nicht so gebildet, wie man Worte bildet, wenn man irgend etwas in der äußeren physischen Welt zum Ausdruck bringen will, sondern sie werden so gebildet, daß sie gleichsam in die eigene Seele hineingegossen werden von dem Wesen, um das es sich handelt, so daß? das Wesen, um das es sich handelt, sie gibt, sie eingießt, daß wir nicht das Gefühl dann haben, wir drücken durch diese Worte irgend etwas aus, das wir anschauen; sondern wir haben durchaus das Gefühl: durch uns drückt sich etwas aus, etwas das uns gewissermaßen nur als sein Organ benützt, um sich auszudrücken, um sich im spirituellen Sprachausdruck zu objektivieren. Es ist also ein ganz anderer Vorgang, es ist ein Sich-Überlassen mit seiner Seele dem Wesen, mit dem man es zu tun hat, und ein solches Sich-Überlassen, daß dieses Wesen die Möglichkeit findet, mit unseren Werkzeugen seine eigene innere Art und seine eigenen innerlichen Erlebnisse auszusprechen. Es ist, wenn man das Wort prägt, nicht wie ein Anbequemen an etwas Äußeres, sondern wie eine Hingabe an das Wesen, um das es sich handelt, wie ein ZurVerfügungstellen des Wortes an dieses Wesen, so daß dieses Wesen sich dann selber unseres Wortes bedienen kann.
Also es ist eine ganz andere Art, zur Objektivität sich zu stellen, als die Art hier ist, in der sinnlichen und Verstandeswelt. Daher gehört ja zu den allerersten Bedingungen, um ein richtiges Verhältnis zur geistigen Welt zu gewinnen, eine gewisse Beweglichkeit des Inneren, ein gewisses Anpassungsvermögen an die verschiedensten Individualitäten, eine fortwährende Möglichkeit, aus sich herauszugehen und in andere Individualitäten sich hineinzubegeben. Man muß, wenn man wirklich mit einer gewissen Treffsicherheit - wenn ich mich des Wortes bedienen darf zum Ausdruck bringen will, was in der übersinnlichen Welt ist und was in derselben lebt, wie es bei demjenigen ist, der durch die Pforte des Todes gegangen ist, man muß vor allen Dingen gründlich geheilt sein von dem, was man den irdischen Ich-Wahn nennen kann; man muß dazu durchgedrungen sein, möglichst wenig an sich zu denken, möglichst wenig sich in den Mittelpunkt der Weltbetrachtung zu stellen. Wenn man einen starken Hang dazu hat, viel von sich zu sprechen, viel über sich nachzudenken, dann muß man diesen Hang überwinden, denn dieses Viel-über-sich-Sprechen, dieses Viel-über-sich-Nachdenken ist wirklich der schlechteste Weg zur Selbsterkenntnis. Wenn man den Hang hat, viel über sich zu sprechen, alle Dinge so zu beurteilen, daß man vor allen Dingen darauf bedacht ist, wie man sich selber hineinstellt in die Welt, was man der Welt bedeutet: wenn man diesen Hang hat, so ist man schlecht geeignet, sich in der geistigen Welt zurechtzufinden oder irgend etwas von der geistigen Welt zum Ausdruck zu bringen.
In spirituellem Sinne beschäftigt man sich am allermeisten mit sich, wenn man im irdischen Sinne am wenigsten sich mit sich selbst beschäftigt, im irdischen Sinne am wenigsten an sich denkt; denn das, was uns im irdischen Sinne am interessantesten ist - der Zusammenhang der Welt mit unserer eigenen Person -, das ist für die geistige Welt das Allerbedeutungsloseste, das Allerunbedeutendste.
Daher werden wir immer finden können, daß uns der Weg in die wahre geistige Wirklichkeit hinein sehr schwer wird, wenn wir bei jeder Gelegenheit Veranlassung finden müssen, nach unserer inneren Veranlagung, von uns zu sprechen, von dem, was durch uns selber geschehen soll, von dem, was wir eventuell der Welt wert sein könnten und dergleichen mehr.
Wenn wir diese Methode auf das alltägliche Leben anwenden, dann kommen wir selbst im alltäglichen Leben, das ja auch im Inneren beherrscht ist von geistigen Kräften und Impulsen, nicht zurecht. Da kann man die merkwürdigsten Zusammenhänge finden. Ich habe Menschen kennengelernt, die viel klagen darüber, daß sie es am Morgen außerordentlich schwierig finden, aufzustehen, daß ihnen der Entschluß schwer wird, sich zu erheben. Ich habe sogar Menschen kennengelernt, die ruhig es gestanden haben: wenn nicht eine äußere Zwangslage vorhanden wäre, die sie dazu brächte aufzustehen, so würden sie überhaupt nicht aufstehen wollen.
Man kann immer einen inneren Zusammenhang finden zwischen dem ganzen Wesen des Menschen und einem solchen Hang. Es werden in der Regel Menschen sein, die einem viel von sich erzählen, die viel davon erzählen, was ihnen sympathisch und antipathisch ist, die einem viel davon erzählen, was ihnen da oder dort begegnet ist zu ihrem Heile oder Unheile und dergleichen. Auf solche Zusammenhänge muß derjenige achten, der sich für ein wirklich objektives Erfassen der geistigen Welt vorbereiten will; denn wir müssen das Leben betrachten, wenn wir in die Wirklichkeit hineinkommen wollen. Und dessen können Sie versichert sein: wir sind als Menschen durch unsere natürlichen Anlagen in der Regel gegen nichts so feindlich gestimmt als gegen die Forderung, das Leben objektiv zu nehmen; wir sind zu nichts so sehr geneigt, als uns selbst mit zu großem Ernst und das äußere Leben mit zu geringem Ernst zu betrachten. Man ringt sich nur ganz allmählich durch zu Worten, die dann wirklich echte, gute Leitmotive des Lebens sein können, und gerade an großen Genies kann man oftmals sehen, wie sie viel durchmachen, um dann ihre ganze Lebensweisheit in ein einziges Wort zu prägen. Das bedeutet dann ganz etwas anderes, als wenn es im gewöhnlichen Tageslaufe von irgend jemandem ausgesprochen wird.
Ich habe einmal darauf aufmerksam gemacht - es war im Zusammenhange mit den Vorträgen, die ich in Norrköping gehalten habe -, wie man leicht sagen kann das große eindringliche Wort des alten Johannes: «Kinder, liebet einander.» Aber es bedeutet etwas ganz anderes, wenn es ein Narr, irgendein Geck in die Welt hinein sagt, als wenn es der Johannes gesagt hat am Ende eines reichen Lebens, in dem viel, viel durchgemacht worden ist hier auf der Erde.
Es kommt bei dem Worte nicht allein auf die Richtigkeit an, sondern auch darauf, aus welchen Untergründen der Seele heraus es gesagt wird, aus welchen Untergründen es entspringt. So hat sich auch Goethe durch ein reiches Leben zu einem schönen Worte durchgerungen, dessen tiefen Sinn man ergründen sollte; aber nicht so, daß man glaubt - indem man hindeutet auf dieses Wort -, in jeder Lebenslage könne man es verstehen. Um es so zu verstehen, ist es - ich möchte das paradoxe Wort prägen viel zu einfach. Denn es so zu verstehen, ist jedem Kinde möglich. Aber wie es verstanden werden muß, wenn man es wie Goethe auf Grundlage einer reichen, einer überreichen Lebenserfahrung verstanden hat, ist es nicht jedem Kinde zu verstehen möglich. Ich meine das Wort: «Erkenne dich, leb’ mit der Welt in Frieden!» Die Zusammengehörigkeit dieser beiden Sätze - und darauf kommt es an - zeigt uns: Es gibt keine Selbsterkenntnis, die nicht zu einem Leben mit der Welt in Frieden wirklich führte.
Alle diese Dinge, ich möchte sie wirklich so ausführlich wie nur irgend möglich besprechen, weil sie viel wichtiger sind, als Sie zunächst glauben. Aber ich kann nur darauf hindeuten und vieles, gerade in bezug auf solche Sachen, Ihrer eigenen Meditation überlassen. Ich möchte immerhin darauf hinweisen, da nach den Aussagen vieler es an Meditationsstoff fehle! Es fehlt wirklich nicht daran, wenn man nur den guten Willen hat, diejenigen Meditationsstoffe, die sich im Leben darbieten, sich von dem Leben als solche bieten zu lassen. |
Nun wird derjenige, der durch die Pforte des Todes schreitet, unmittelbar durch diese Tatsache abgebracht von all den Majaverhältnissen, in denen er lebt, in die er verstrickt ist hier, solange er in dem physischen Leibe weilt; er wird davon abgebracht, denn sie werden ihm ja durch sein Verkörpertsein im physischen Leibe aufgedrängt. Er wird vor allen Dingen abgebracht von sehr vielen Verrichtungen, die ihm sympathisch geworden sind im Leben zwischen der Geburt und dem Tode und die er selbstverständlich, da ihm der physische Leib fehlt, nach dem Tode nicht mehr ausführen kann. Die ganze Art des Lebens wird anders, das Verhältnis zur Welt wird ein völlig anderes, und Sie bekommen, wenn Sie durch meditieren den Wiener Zyklus «Inneres Wesen des Menschen und Leben zwischen Tod und neuer Geburt» eine Vorstellung über die ganz andere Art, wie man sich zu der Welt zu stellen hat, wenn man sich richtige Begriffe und Ideen bilden will über dieses Leben zwischen dem Tode und einer neuen Geburt. Man muß nur die Worte, die da versucht worden sind stammelnd zu prägen, ganz ausleben, sie recht innerlich zu durchleben suchen. Das ist bei solchen Dingen dringend nötig.
Ich habe bereits in diesen Tagen darauf aufmerksam gemacht, daß der Moment des Todes sich im Grunde nur äußerlich vergleichen läßt mit dem Momente der Geburt für das physische Menschenleben. Denn im alltäglichen Verlaufe des Lebens, wenn nicht eine hellsichtige Erkenntnis den Menschen unterstützt, erinnert sich der Mensch ja nicht zurück bis zu seiner Geburt im physischen Leibe. Durch die Fähigkeiten, die uns die Erde gibt, erinnern wir uns.nicht daran zurück, wie, nicht einmal daran, daß wir geboren worden sind. Wenn es heute Menschen gibt, die da glauben, daß sie alles durch den Sinnenschein wissen, so denken sie eben nicht nach darüber, daß sie sogar das Anfangsereignis ihres Erdenlebens nicht durch den Sinnenschein erfahren können, sondern nur dadurch, daß man ihnen berichtet, daß sie geboren worden sind, und außerdem auf Grundlage einer oftmals nicht bewußten, aber doch unbewußt vorgenommenen Schlußfolgerung. Es gibt - wenn man nicht die hellseherischen Kräfte zu Hilfe nehmen will - nur diese beiden Methoden, sich davon zu überzeugen, daß man selber geboren worden ist: sich es erzählen zu lassen oder einen Schluß zu vollziehen, den Schluß: Andere Menschen werden geboren; ich bin den anderen Menschen ähnlich; also werde ich auch einmal geboren worden sein. Eine richtige Schlußfolgerung. Und irgend etwas anderes, um zur Tatsache der eigenen Geburt mit irdischen Kräften vorzurücken, als sich davon erzählen zu lassen oder diesen Analogieschluß zu machen, eine andere Methode als diese zwei gibt es nicht für die Erdenfähigkeiten. So beginnt bereits mit der Bemühung, sich Aufklärung über die eigene Geburt zu verschaffen, die Aufklärung darüber, daß es nicht möglich ist, eine Grundlage für die Wahrheit im bloßen Sinnenschein zu finden.
Der Moment des Todes ist durchaus unähnlich dem Momente der Geburt, insofern als man in der geistigen Welt immer hinschauen kann auf den Moment des Todes, während man ja auf den Moment der Geburt mit den gewöhnlichen Fähigkeiten im physischen Leibe nicht hinschauen kann. Man kann immer in der geistigen Welt in der Zeit zwischen dem Tode und einer neuen Geburt auf den Moment des Todes hinschauen, von dem Augenblick an, wo man ihn sich zum ersten Mal zum Bewußtsein gebracht hat. Da steht er da, allerdings nicht etwa so, wie wir ihn sehen mit seinen Schrecken von dieser Seite des Lebens aus, sondern er steht da als ein wunderbar herrliches Ereignis des Lebens, als ein Hervorgehen der geistig-seelischen Wesenheit des Menschen aus der physisch-sinnlichen Umhüllung, er steht da als die Befreiung der Willens- und Gefühlsimpulse aus dem flutenden, aus dem objektiv-flutenden Gedankenwesen.
Daß der Mensch nicht unmittelbar nach dem Tode imstande ist, diesen Moment des Todes gleich zu erschauen, das hängt damit zusammen, daß wir nun nicht zuwenig Bewußtsein haben, wenn der Tod eingetreten ist, sondern im Gegenteil, daß wir zuviel Bewußtsein haben. Erinnern Sie sich nur an dasjenige, was in den Wiener Vorträgen steht: daß wir uns hineinleben nicht in zuwenig Weisheit, sondern in zuviel Weisheit, in eine uns wie überflutende, unendliche, von überall an uns herandringende Weisheit. Unweise zu sein ist uns unmöglich nach dem Tode. Diese Weisheit kommt über uns wie ein uns allseitig überflutendes Licht, und wir müssen im Gegenteil erst dahin gelangen, uns zu beschränken, uns in dem, worinnen wir anfangs nicht orientiert sind, zu orientieren. Also durch dieses Herabstimmen des ganz hochgestimmten Bewußtseins bis zu dem Grade von Bewußtheit, den wir ertragen können nach unserer irdischen Vorbereitung bis zum Tode, durch dieses Herabstimmen kommen wir zu dem, was wir das Erwachen nennen können nach dem Tode. |
Wir erwachen nach dem Tode, unmittelbar nach dem Tode, zu stark, und wir müssen erst dieses zu starke Erwachen herabmindern, herabdämpfen bis zu dem Grade, der den Fähigkeiten entspricht, die wir uns zubereitet haben durch die Erfahrungen, die wir in den verschiedenen Erdeninkarnationen durchgemacht haben. So ist es ein Ringen, uns selbst zu behaupten in dem von allen Seiten über uns hereinbrechenden Bewußtsein.
Und nun kommt etwas, worinnen wir uns alle, nach dem Tode sowohl wie auch, wenn wir richtig in die Initiation eintreten wollen, gewissermaßen erst von den Gewohnheiten des physisch-sinnlichen Lebens erholen müssen. Ich möchte, um ganz verständlich zu sein, da an etwas anknüpfen. Als wir begonnen haben in Berlin, in einem recht kleinen Kreise, unsere geisteswissenschaftlich gehaltene Bewegung zu betreiben, haben sich uns zunächst die verschiedensten Menschen angeschlossen. Wir waren damals ein sehr kleiner Kreis. Eine Persönlichkeit aus diesem Kreise kam eines Tages, nicht lange nachdem wir angefangen hatten zu arbeiten, und erklärte, sie müsse wieder austreten, und zwar aus dem Grunde, weil sie eingesehen habe, daß wir nicht auf dem richtigen Wege seien: denn es käme nicht darauf an, daß man alle die Dinge suche, die wir suchten, sondern es käme darauf an, daß man die Einheit suche. Es war das etwas wie eine Idee fixe bei der entsprechenden Persönlichkeit. In einem längeren Gespräche entwickelte sie diese Idee fixe der Einheit, und dann ging sie fort von uns, um die Einheit zu suchen. Es glaubte diese Persönlichkeit durch dieses Suchen nach der Einheit, mit dieser Idee fixe der Einheit, gerade in das Übersinnliche hineinzukommen. Aber diese Idee der Einheit, die ist diejenige, die sich nur ergibt aus der letzten Abstraktion des äußeren physischen Lebens. Dieses Streben nach der Einheit ist nämlich das Allersinnlichste, wonach der Mensch streben kann. Man muß geheilt werden gerade von diesem Einheitsstreben, wenn man richtig stehen will in der geistigen Welt. Hier in der Sinneswelt liegt es uns ja so nahe, zu sagen: Wir müssen die Einheit überall suchen, wir müssen aus der Vielheit, aus der Mannigfaltigkeit heraus die Einheit suchen. — Aber das ist etwas, was nur für die sinnlich-physische Welt hier Bedeutung hat. Denn treten wir durch die Pforte des Todes, dann haben wir nicht die Mannigfaltigkeit, sondern das, was als ein überflutendes Bewußtsein vor unsere Seele tritt: wir haben, wenn wir durch die Pforte des Todes getreten sind, nichts als Einheit um uns, immer wieder Einheit. Da kommt es dann darauf an, die Vielheit, die Mannigfaltigkeit richtig zu finden. Da müssen wir nichts anderes erstreben, als aus der Einheit heraus- und in die Vielheit hineinzukommen.
Nun möchte ich Ihnen eine richtig treffende Vorstellung davon geben, wie man in die Vielheit hineinkommt aus der Einheit. Nehmen Sie einmal an, man tritt durch die Pforte des Todes, tritt ein in diese Welt flutenden geistigen Weisheitslebens. In diese Welt tritt man ja zunächst ein, die uns anfangs betäubt, wenn wir in ihr aufgewacht sind. Wir wollen sie so charakterisieren, diese Welt, daß wir da das um uns flutende Licht als eine die Welt erfüllende Einheit haben; so erscheint sie uns. Nicht einmal uns selber unterscheiden wir darinnen. So sehr ist das eine Einheit, daß wir nicht einmal uns selber darinnen unterscheiden, daß wir selbst diese Unterscheidung nicht haben zwischen uns und der Welt; sondern wir gehören voll dazu zu der Welt. Alles ist eine Einheit.
Aber jetzt beantworten wir uns einmal eine Frage - und ich bitte Sie, über diese Antwort, die ich geben werde, nicht nur ein wenig, sondern recht viel nachzudenken -, jetzt beantworten wir uns eine Frage, die Frage: Was ist sie eigentlich, die Einheit, in die wir da aufgenommen werden? Denken Sie sich alle die Wesenheiten der höheren Hierarchien, von denen Ihnen ja neun, respektive zehn, wenn wir den Menschen dazu nehmen, bekannt sind. In jeder Hierarchie ist eine große Anzahl von Wesen. Die denken alle, es denkt ja nicht bloß der Mensch, es denken die Wesen aller dieser höheren Hierarchien. Also denken Sie sich diese ganze Summe von Wesenheiten, in die wir aufgenommen werden, wenn wir durch die Pforte des Todes geschritten sind. Die sind um uns herum. Durch die Todespforte schreitend, werden wir in die ganze Fülle der geistigen Wesenheiten aufgenommen. Wir nehmen sie zunächst nicht wahr, sind aber darinnen: Das, was uns zuerst umflutet, ist eben diese Einheit. Und was ist diese Einheit? Das sind die ineinander verschwimmenden Gedanken aller Hierarchien. Was alle Hierarchien zusammen denken, diese Gedankenwelt der Hierarchien, ununterschieden, was der eine Hierarch denkt, was der andere Hierarch denkt: das alles verschwimmt in eine Einheit. In diese Gedanken der Hierarchien wachsen wir hinein. Das ist das uns umflutende Gedankenlichtwesen. Das ist diese Einheit. Also wir leben in den zu einer Einheit zusammenfließenden Gedanken der Hierarchien. Da leben wir darinnen.
Und um was handelt es sich nun weiter in unserem Leben nach dem Tode? Darum handelt es sich, daß wir ein Verhältnis gewinnen zu den einzelnen Wesenheiten, die wir aus dem Gedankenmeere, in dem die Gedanken aller Hierarchien zusammenfließen, herausheben, und ein Verhältnis gewinnen zu den einzelnen Wesen, zu der Vielheit. Wir müssen nach dem Tode nicht nur zu der Einheit der flutenden Gedankenwesen der Hierarchien ein Verhältnis gewinnen, denn das ist uns gegeben; sondern wir müssen uns hindurcharbeiten so, daß wir ein Verhältnis bekommen zu den einzelnen Wesenheiten der Hierarchien. Wie bekommen wiir das?
Zunächst überflutet uns dieses zusammenschwimmende, zusammenfließende Meer der Gedanken der Hierarchien. Durch dasjenige, was wir uns nun im physischen Leibe erworben haben, bleibt bestehen an der Todespforte, auf die wir hinblicken, unser eigenes inneres Wesen, heraus sich erhebend aus der sinnlichen Umhüllung. Das gibt uns Willensstärke, gefühlsartige Willensimpulse, willensartige Gefühlsimpulse. Die werden wir innerlich gewahr im Anschauen des Wesens, das aus dem Körper entsteigt, das wir nach dem Tode sind. Dadurch sind wir imstande, gleichsam unsere Willensstrahlen herauszuziehen. Und wenn wir nun einen solchen Willensstrahl, den wir aus der Kraft des Todes schöpfen, der mit dem Tode geboren wird, hineinstrahlen in die Umwelt, dann löschen wir an einer bestimmten Stelle etwas in der Gedankenwelt aus. Und wenn wir ihn anderswo hinrichten, löschen wir an einer anderen Stelle etwas aus; so löschen wir an einer dritten, an einer vierten Stelle etwas aus, kurz, wir löschen an den verschiedensten Stellen durch unsere WillensImpulskräfte die uns umflutende Gedankenwelt aus. Und indem wir sie auslöschen, tritt in den Hohlräumen des flutenden Gedankenmeeres der Hierarchien, uns - wenn ich so sagen darf - der Gedankenhierarch entgegen, das Wesen, das dadrinnen lebt, in der geistigen Welt.
Während wir uns bemühen, hier in der physischen Welt, zu dem Dinge, das wir sehen, einen Gedanken hinzuzufinden, müssen wir in der geistigen Welt, weil uns der Gedanke in Hülle und Fülle zur Verfügung steht, den Gedanken auslöschen, wegschaffen; dann treten uns die Wesen entgegen. Wir müssen Herr werden über den Gedanken, dann treten uns die Wesen entgegen. Und diese Kraft, Herr zu werden über den Gedanken, den Gedanken gewissermaßen aus unserem Gesichtsfelde herauszuwerfen, damit das Wesen uns entgegentritt im Meere der flutenden Gedankenwelt, diese Kraft erhalten wir dadurch, daß uns, als herrlicher Ausgangspunkt unseres geistigen Lebens nach dem Tode, der Anblick des Sterbens, des Todes selbst entgegentritt, der unser Lehrer wird im Auslöschen. Denn der Tod wird für uns nach dem Tode der Lehrer des Auslöschens, der Anreger jener Willenskräfte, durch die wir im flutenden Lichtmeere die Gedanken auslöschen müssen.
Damit ist hingewiesen auf die ganz andere Art, wie der Mensch steht zu seiner Umgebung nach und vor dem Tode. Wie er gewissermaßen da, wo er in der Sinneswelt darinnensteht, so verfahren muß, daß er sich hineinstellt, den Luftkreis um sich hat und dann warten muß, bis in den Luftkreis etwas hineinkommt. Dagegen muß er nach dem Tode so verfahren, daß er den Gedankenlichtkreis um sich hat und darinnen selber auslöschen muß dasjenige, was er in Gedanken im Gesichtsfelde hat, weil ihm erst dann die betreffenden Wesenheiten erscheinen. Denn mit Wesenheiten hat man es hier zu tun, wie ich es in der Schrift «Die Schwelle der geistigen Welt» angedeutet habe. So kommt man aus der Einheit in die Vielheit, in die Mannigfaltigkeit.
Der Monismus in dem Sinne, wie ihn viele meinen, ist nur eine irdische Weltanschauung, und er ist nur eine Fessel, wenn man durch die Pforte des Todes geschritten ist; denn da tritt im eminentesten Sinne sofort die Notwendigkeit des Monadismus ein, die Notwendigkeit, die Vielheit aufzusuchen. Die Einheit aufzusuchen ist eine letzte Fessel des sinnlichen, verstandlichen Lebens.
Was ist denn nun eigentlich dasjenige, was wir da vollziehen? Es ist eine Tätigkeit, durch die wir uns Platz schaffen, daß die Hierarchien an uns herantreten können. Wir schaffen uns Platz. Unser Wesen ist dann ja über die ganze Welt ausgebreitet - auf diese Dinge haben wir schon wiederholt hingedeutet. - Wir schaffen uns Platz, indem wir diese Hohlstellen schaffen, so daß das, was objektiv ist, uns post mortem, also nach dem Tode, erscheinen kann. Niemals kann uns etwas objektiv in der geistigen Welt erscheinen, wenn wir unser eigenes Wesen in die geistige Welt hineintragen. Nur dann können wir das andere erkennen in der geistigen Welt, wenn wir für die Stelle, wo das andere erscheinen will, unser eigenes Wesen, unsere eigene Wesenheit auslöschen, und das geschieht auf diese Weise.
Das ist, innerlich charakterisiert, der Prozeß, der nun auch nötig ist, wenn man herangelangen will an den Toten in der Weise, wie ich Ihnen das gestern am Schlusse des Vortrages dargestellt habe, wo das Bedürfnis vorhanden war, die Möglichkeit zu gewinnen, den Toten selber sprechen zu lassen, den Toten selber sich aussprechen zu lassen. Dann muß man versuchen, da wo der Tote ist, sich selber wegzuschaffen, sein eigenes Denken und sein Fühlen wegzuschaffen, und wo man das weggeschafft hat, da treten aus den Tiefen des Seins heraus die Impulse, die uns ohne unseren Willen die Worte in den Mund legen, die dann kommen müssen, wenn wir das objektive Wesen eines nicht im physischen Leibe verkörperten Menschen ausdrücken wollen.
Sie sehen, daß dasjenige, was hier in der physischen Welt gewissermaßen am schwächsten ist im Menschen, der Wille und die Gefühlsimpulse — sie sind ja der schwächste Teil der menschlichen Seele in der physischen Welt und der unklarste -, daß dasjenige, über das wir am wenigsten Herr sind, eine besondere Bedeutung gewinnt, um wahrzunehmen in der geistigen Welt. Dagegen ist das, was hier in der physischen Welt am allerstärksten ist, das Vorstellen - wir leben ja sogar am liebsten in unseren Illusionen und Vorstellungen, weil wir da am allermeisten Herr sein können -, es ist am schwächsten in der geistigen Welt.
Mit Illusionen kann man in der geistigen Welt nicht viel anfangen, die verdecken einem noch die flutende Gedankenwesen-Einheit. Worauf es ankommt, ist nicht eine Ausbildung unseres Vorstellungslebens, sondern eine Ausbildung unseres Willens- und Gefühlslebens; und das ist ja das Wesentliche der Meditation. Bei der Meditation kommt es nicht darauf an, was wir vorstellen, sondern darauf - ich habe das immer wieder und wieder betont -, daß man vorstellt mit innerer Kraft. Auf die innere Energie, auf die Kraft, auf den Willen kommt es an, und auf das Fühlen und Empfinden während wir meditieren, also auf ein Willenselement, das wir im Meditieren entwickeln, und das wir stärker entwickeln, wenn wir uns so anstrengen müssen, wie wir uns bei einer Meditation anstrengen sollen, aber geistig anstrengen sollen.
Am meisten feindlich entgegen steht dem wirklichen Fortschritt hinein in die geistige Welt die Sucht zu träumen, sich über die äußere Wirklichkeit Illusionen zu bilden, aus dem Grunde, weil wir dadurch unseren Willen immer schwächer und schwächer machen. Man macht den Willen am schwächsten, wenn man geradezu die Parasiten des Vorstellungslebens kultiviert, wenn man sich über alle möglichen äußeren Dinge Illusionen macht, wie überhaupt der Weg in die geistige Welt nicht dadurch beschritten wird, daß man sich vom Leben entfernt, sondern dadurch, daß man sich klar wird über die Dinge des Lebens. Nicht eine Verarmung des äußeren Lebens, sondern eine Bereicherung des Lebens muß uns in die geistige Welt hineinführen. Die Menschen möchten so gerne nicht durch Stärke, sondern durch Schwäche in die geistige Welt hineinwachsen. Schwäche ist es, wenn einen die äußere Welt, die Welt des äußeren Lebens nicht interessiert, wenn man die Goethesche Maxime nicht erfüllen kann: «Erkenne dich, leb’ mit der Welt in Frieden.»
Ich möchte darauf aufmerksam machen, bevor ich weiterschreite in diesen Betrachtungen über den Tod, daß in der Tat allen künstlerischen Betätigungen des Menschen zugrunde liegen muß ein Hineinspielen derjenigen Betätigungen der Seele, die notwendig sind für die Seele nach dem Tode. Es muß behufs künstlerischer Betätigung gerade das Willenselement durchdrungen werden von der spirituellen Welt und weniger das Anschauungselement. In unserer Zeit des Niederganges der Kunst, namentlich des künstlerischen Arbeitens, findet ja das Entgegengesetzte statt. In unserer Zeit des Niederganges auch der Weltauffassung wird gerade herausgearbeitet jenes Moment, das das Vorstellungsleben raffinierter macht. Daher werden in unserer Zeit die Künstler immer mehr abhängig von Modellen, von Vorbildern. Sie können unendlich wenig machen, wenn sie nicht Modelle, nicht Vorbilder haben. Daher wird in unserer Zeit es immer mehr und mehr stattfinden, daß sich die Künstler in der Kunst isolieren. Es kann aber niemals zu einer wirklichen Kunst kommen, wenn man sich in der Kunst isoliert; es ist das Gegenteil von dem, was werden soll.
Was geschieht denn, wenn zum Beispiel jemand einen Menschen künstlerisch gestaltet, malerisch oder plastisch, und er beschäftigt sich nicht mit den inneren Kräften, die diesen Menschen aufbauen, nicht mit dem Dynamischen, wenn er bloß herangeht und sich ein Modell nimmt und das Modell so behandelt, wie man im Anschauen die Dinge behandelt? Dann entfernt er sich von dem eigentlichen Prinzip des künstlerischen Schaffens. Der Anfang des Schaffens ist, daß man sich ein inneres, voluntaristisches Anschauen verschafft, daß man nicht von außen anschaut, sondern innerlich hineindringt und empfindet, wie da die Stirn sich wölbt, die Nase herauskommt und so weiter. Das ist es, um was es sich handelt.
Und so ist es auch insbesondere bei der Natur. Bei ihr handelt es sich um ein wirkliches Darinnenleben in den Betätigungen der Natur. Und da will ich Sie auf etwas aufmerksam machen, was der Mensch allerdings gleich erfährt, wenn er durch die Todespforte geschritten ist, was ihm aber hier in der physischen Welt ziemlich unbekannt bleibt.
Wenn wir malen, so malen wir vorzugsweise dasjenige, was sich, ich möchte sagen, über die Oberfläche der Dinge hinzieht. Wir malen Licht und Schatten, wir malen die Farben. Nun ist die äußere Natur mit Licht und Farben ausgestattet aus dem Grunde, weil sie Licht und Farbe nicht aufnimmt, sondern zurückwirft. Dort ist der Gegenstand, und der wirft uns Licht und Farbe zurück. Mineralien sind zum Beispiel dadurch Mineralien, daß sie Licht und Farbe in ihrem Inneren nicht aufnehmen, weil sie sie äußerlich abstoßen. Der Mensch mit seiner Seele lebt aber gerade in den Farben. Nach dem Tode zieht er darin sogleich ein, da weiß er sich sogleich in Licht und Farbe; aber hier weiß er sich nicht darinnen. Wenn der Landschaftsmaler vor die Natur tritt, so muß er etwas haben von dem, was zwischen ihm und der Landschaft ist; er muß darinnen aufgehen können, er muß gewissermaßen etwas hineinbringen in die physische Welt, was sich real erst verwirklicht, wenn der Mensch durch die Todespforte gegangen ist. Dieses gibt die Ähnlichkeit des künstlerischen Schaffens mit dem Darinnenstehen in der geistigen Welt, wenn auch das Durchpulst- und Durchsetztsein von der geistigen Welt für den Künstler zumeist unbewußt bleibt, und auch unbewußt bleibt die Notwendigkeit, daß etwas erweckt werde von diesem Durchpulstwerden von der geistigen Welt. Deshalb ist die Anlage unseres Baues gerade so gemacht, wie sie gemacht worden ist, weil man da, wie ich öfter auseinandergesetzt habe, gerade das, was nicht da ist, wird berücksichtigen müssen, nicht dasjenige, was da ist. Ich möchte sagen, gerade die Hohlformen, die ausgespart sind, wird man berücksichtigen müssen, nicht dasjenige, was da ist. Insofern ist auch durch diese ins Praktische gehende Ausgestaltung unserer geisteswissenschaftlichen Strömung ein Anfang gemacht, der gemacht werden muß in unserer jetzigen Kulturströmung.
Sehen Sie, solche Hineinragungen der geistigen Welt in das menschliche Leben, ich will sagen, durch das Todesspektrum, wie ich sie in den künstlerischen Produktionen von gestern und vorgestern vorgeführt habe, waren in gar nicht lange hinter uns liegender Zeit etwas Gewöhnliches. Heute ist es etwas Ungewöhnliches, und als Naturgabe wird das immer ungewöhnlicher werden. Es wird immer weniger als Naturgabe da sein. Aber je weniger der Mensch hier in dieser physischen Welt Beziehungen gestalten kann zu der geistigen Mannigfaltigkeit, desto gebundener wird er sein, wenn er durch die Pforte des Todes geschritten ist. Die Möglichkeit, jene Hohlformen zu schaffen, würde untergehen, wenn die Menschen ganz herauskommen würden aus den Beziehungen zu der geistigen Welt, wie es notwendig durch den äußeren Fortgang der Welterscheinungen geschehen müßte. Das alte Hellsehen muß ja nach und nach ganz verlorengehen. Könnten wir nicht durch die geisteswissenschaftliche Entwickelung jenes Verhältnis zur geistigen Welt wieder herstellen, so verlöre der Mensch die Fähigkeit, nach dem Tode in der geistigen Welt zu leben, ein wirklich wesendes Wesen zu sein. Er würde durch dasjenige, was ihm immer bleibt, den Zurückblick auf das Leben, bei dem eben das Hinschauen auf den Tod etwas ganz Wesentliches ist, er würde durch dieses wie festgebannt, wie in ein Gefängnis eingesperrt werden.
Daher zeigt sich bei denen, die, wenn ich so sagen darf, geisteswissenschaftlich gestärkt durch die Pforte des Todes gehen, daß sie nach dem Tode verhältnismäßig rasch die Freiheit gewinnen, die freie Betätigung in der geistigen Welt. Denken Sie nur einmal, wie das ungeheure Verknüpftsein mit dem, was die geisteswissenschaftlichen Impulse geben können, notwendig ist, um sogleich mit seinem Wesen so zu leben nach dem Tode, wie sich das zeigt in dem Falle, der beobachtet worden ist, wie es in den Worten liegt, die aus Frau Grosheintz’ Seele gesprochen worden sind. Also es handelt sich darum, daß der Mensch durch die geisteswissenschaftliche Stärkung das ersetzt bekommt, was ihm früher die natürlichen Anlagen gegeben haben: zu dem Übersinnlichen, den spirituellen Erscheinungen ein Verhältnis zu gewinnen.
Wenn man rein aus natürlichen Anlagen heraus so etwas sehen kann, wie ein Todesspektrum - und die Leute in früheren Zeiten haben solche Todesspektren immer gesehen, man weiß das heute nur nicht mehr, denn das ist eine Fähigkeit, die verlorengegangen ist —, da sieht man dieses Todesspektrum durch das Abgetrenntsein seines Leibes; das befähigt einen dazu, die einzelnen, individuellen Erscheinungsformen zu sehen. Da schneidet man aus der Einheit diese einzelnen Erscheinungsformen heraus. Und darauf kommt es da an: auf dieses Herausschneiden aus der Einheit, daß man lernt dieses Herausschneiden. Aber die Möglichkeit, das Herausschneiden zu erlernen, geht mit dem atavistischen natürlichen Hellsehen ganz verloren, und es muß ersetzt werden durch ein Hineinwachsen in die Geisteswissenschaft. Diese geisteswissenschaftliche Stärkung wird es aber auch sein, durch welche die nötige Befähigung zum künstlerischen Schaffen auf jedem Gebiete in der Zukunft hervorgerufen wird. Der Plastiker, der Musiker, der Maler, der Dichter, sie werden nicht schaffen können, wenn sie sich nicht durchdringen mit dem, was die geisteswissenschaftliche Stärkung ihnen geben kann. Heute fürchtet man sich noch davor. Dieses Fürchten, das kommt dann zum Ausdruck, wenn ein Plastiker, ein Musiker, ein Maler, ein Dichter kommt und sagt: Ach, Geisteswissenschaft, das ist so etwas, da muß ich alles mögliche treiben und anstreben, das ertötet in mir die ursprüngliche künstlerische Schaffenskraft. - Das kann man überall hören; aber das ist nur eine Furcht vor der Kraft, die notwendig ist, wenn das Künstlertum den Menschen wirklich bleiben soll für die Zukunft. Die Menschen fürchten sich heute noch vor diesem, was in ihrem Inneren gerade als die stärkste Kraft auftreten muß. Zeiten werden kommen in der Entwickelung der Menschheit, wo heranreifen müssen die künstlerischen Fähigkeiten durch die geisteswissenschaftliche Stärkung.
Allerdings, jener Unfug wird dann nicht mehr so Platz greifen können wie heute, daß die Menschen aus dem Nichts heraus sich in einem möglichst frühen Jugendalter selber zu Künstlern ernennen und es dann nach ihrer eigenen Meinung auch sind. Sie glauben dann, es liege nur daran, daß die Welt sie nicht anerkennt, wenn dieses Künstlertum nicht zur Entfaltung kommt. Dieser Unfug wird nach und nach aufhören. Die Kunst der Zukunft wird eine Kunst der Reife sein, und man wird in einem verhältnismäßig späten Lebensalter erst die innere Reife fühlen, die zur künstlerischen Betätigung führt. Man wird nicht glauben, daß man im späteren Lebensalter nicht mehr die Kräfte haben kann, die Jugendkräfte, wie man ja oftmals sagt, die nötig sind, um künstlerisch zu schaffen; sondern man wird gerade finden, daß man durch Vertiefung und geisteswissenschaftliche Stärkung erst loslöst aus dem inneren Wesen die Kräfte, die zum künstlerischen Schaffen in Zukunft führen werden. Aber vor diesen Kräften fürchtet man sich heute noch, wie man sich vielfach fürchtet vor dem, was erst errungen werden muß. Daher haben viele Künstler oftmals eine heillose Angst vor diesem Herausholen ihres tieferen inneren Wesens, und wenn sie hören, daß es nicht der äußere irdische Mensch ist, sondern der höhere Mensch in ihnen, der künstlerisch schaffen soll, dann geraten sie in eine heillose Verwirrung. Man kann sich kaum eine heillosere Verwirrung denken als die, in welche ein Künstler der neueren Zeit gekommen ist, als er gewahr wurde, wie es der Genius im Inneren des Menschen ist, das, was der geistigen Welt angehört, was da eigentlich schafft im Künstler. Ein Künstler der neueren Zeit sprach die heillose Angst, die er vor dieser geistigen Welt hatte, ungefähr in folgenden Worte aus:
«Die Genaalität ist eine fürchterliche Krankheit. Jeder Schriftsteller trägt in seinem Herzen ein Ungeheuer, welches alle seine Gefühle, gleich nachdem sie geboren werden, frißt. Wer wird den Sieg davontragen — die Krankheit über den Menschen oder der Mensch über die Krankheit? Man muß ein wahrhaft großer Mensch sein, um seinen Charakter und sein Genie im Gleichgewicht zu halten. Ist der Dichter kein Gigant, hat er nicht die Kräfte eines Herkules, so muß er entweder sein Herz oder seine Begabung einbüßen.»
Man möchte eine Gänsehaut bekommen, aber eine seelische Gänsehaut, wenn solche Dinge ausgesprochen werden. Denn es ist nichts weiter als die heillose Angst vor dem im Menschen, was mit der geistigen Welt in Beziehung steht, die uns da entgegentritt. Und es ist ein sehr konsequenter Satz, trotzdem sich der Autor gar nicht bewußt ist, wie groß die Konsequenz war; denn daß er von Giganten und Herkules spricht, ist ungeheuer charakteristisch. Es ist bezeichnend, daß ihm gerade diese Worte in den Mund kommen oder in die Feder, könnte man sagen.
Also selbst die Ansicht konnte auftreten, daß der Mensch den Sieg davontragen muß durch dasjenige, was er im irdischen Leben ist - denn das liegt in diesen Worten -, während das wahrhafte Erkennen dahin gehen wird, daß der Genius im Menschen, der gesunde Genius, den Menschen durchdringen und ergreifen wird, ihn zu seinem Instrumente machen wird.
Ein anderer Künstler der neueren Zeit knüpft eigentümliche Worte an diese Sätze, die ich eben vorgelesen habe, höchst eigentümliche Worte. Er sagt:
«Vergegenwärtigen wir uns doch den in der Aeneis beschriebenen tragischen Untergang Laokoons. Die Bürger Trojas sehen natürlich mit Grauen und Widerwillen, wie die riesengroßen Schlangen Laokoon und dessen Söhne erwürgen. Die Zuschauer empfinden Angst, Mitleid, und haben wohl auch den Wunsch, die Unglücklichen zu retten; wie sehr verschieden ihre seelischen Zustände auch sein mögen, so spielt doch der Willensmoment bei allen eine höchst wichtige Rolle ... Man denke sich aber mitten in dieser erregten und erschütterten Menge einen Bildhauer, der die schreckliche Katastrophe, die sich vor seinen Augen abspielt, als Thema zu einem künftigen Kunstwerk betrachtet. Bei der allgemeinen Erregung unter den schreienden. rasenden, betenden Menschen bleibt er der ruhige Beobachter. Alle moralischen Instinkte werden in ihm in diesem Augenblick von der ästhetischen Wißbegier unterdrückt.»
Das soll notwendig sein, um ein künstlerisches Werk zu schaffen! Da sollen Menschen stehen, in tiefstem Mitleid, die keine Künstler sind, und nicht helfen können, und da soll der Tropf stehen, der Stumpfling, der keine Ahnung hat von dem Schmerz, den das alles erzeugt. Und dieser Stumpfling, der soll der richtige Künstler sein, der das darstellen kann, der so dasteht in seinem Stumpfsinn, nur um die Sache zu betrachten! So weit haben wir es gebracht in der Gegenwart, daß man sich getraut zu fordern: Ein Stumpfling den Erscheinungen des Lebens gegenüber solle der Künstler sein, damit er «objektiv» sein kann. Mitleid und Mitgefühl soll er aus dem Herzen reißen, ein stumpfsinniger Tropf werden, und dann erst kann er, nach diesen Worten, etwas so schildern, daß es die anderen Menschen mit Interesse erfüllt.
Man kann nicht schlimmer von den allerabscheulichsten ahrimanischen Kräften erfaßt werden, als wenn man eine solche Anschauung über das Künstlertum zu entwickeln in der Lage ist. Das ist die Dekadenz unserer Zeit, erzeugt von der Furcht und Angst vor der geistigen Wirklichkeit: nicht zu wissen, daß, wenn man Künstler sein will, man mitfühlen muß die Ereignisse mit noch tieferem Mitleid, daß man noch tieferes Mitempfinden haben muß, und nur die Fähigkeit haben muß, in einem späteren Augenblicke aus diesem tiefen Miterleben dieselben Ereignisse objektiviert wieder anzuschauen, so daß wir sie lieben können, wie wir ein fremdes Wesen lieben können, und daß wir aus diesem noch tieferen Miterleben zu einem künstlerischen Schaffen kommen. So weit ist unsere Zeit gekommen in ihrer Perversität der Weltanschauung, daß das Gegenteil der Wahrheit als Summe von Weisheit in die Welt hinausposaunt wird. Und ich bin überzeugt davon, daß es unendlich viele Menschen gibt, die diesen Stumpfsinn sogar für geistreich halten, und die dieses Lob auf den künstlerischen Stumpfsinn für die endliche Entdeckung halten dessen, was Künstlertum eigentlich ist. So stehen wir darinnen in der Gegenwart und müssen suchen jenen Stützpunkt der geisteswissenschaftlichen Stärkung, der uns die Befähigung gibt, uns darinnen zu wissen in der Welt, in die der Mensch auch eintritt im natürlichen Gange der Ereignisse, wenn er durch die Pforte des Todes geht.
So kann uns die Kunst dem Tode verwandt erscheinen, das heißt, dem höheren Leben verwandt. Dem Tode verwandt sein, heißt: dem höheren Leben verwandt sein.
In vieler Beziehung müssen wir uns, um in die geistige Welt einzutreten, die Fähigkeit aneignen, zu anderen Vorstellungen und anderen Ideen zu kommen als diejenigen sind, die uns erfüllen müssen, um die Welt zu verstehen, die wir erleben zwischen der Geburt und dem Tode. Viel mehr müssen wir uns aufschwingen dazu, die Maja nicht nur so zu durchbrechen, daß wir gleichsam diese Maja überall sich gleich finden und glauben, wenn wir irgendwo durchkommen, dann sind wir schon in der geistigen Welt darinnen. An verschiedenen Stellen des Lebens ist die Maja verschieden dicht. Wenn wir verschiedenen Gebieten des Lebens gegenübertreten, so finden wir, daß die Maja verschieden dicht ist; sie ist aus verschiedenen Stoffen gewoben. Trotzdem sie Maja ist, ist sie an den verschiedenen Stellen des Lebens aus verschiedenen Stoffen gewoben.
Wir treten einem Kinde entgegen, wir lernen es in diesem physischen Dasein kennen, wir machen uns zunächst Vorstellungen über das Wesen des Kindes, die zusammengesetzt sind aus den Erfahrungen, die wir uns gebildet haben, je nachdem wie uns das Kind mit seiner Wesenheit im physischen Leibe entgegentritt. Wir könnten keinen größeren Fehler machen, als wenn wir ohne weiteres eine solche Vorstellung hineintragen würden in die geistige Welt, um real zu erkennen das betreffende Wesen, wenn es durch die Todespforte geschritten ist.
Wir haben ja selbst in letzter Zeit ein ganz ungeheuer ergreifendes karmisches Ereignis durchgemacht: in Theo Faiss. Wir stellen ihn uns falsch vor, wenn wir etwa einfach verlängern würden die Vorstellungen, die wir uns gemacht haben von dem Kinde nach dem, wie es uns in der physischen Welt entgegengetreten ist, und wenn wir diese Vorstellungen nur hinaus in die geistige Welt projizieren würden. Gerade in einem solchen Wesen können wir manchmal bald nach dem Tode die allergrößte Reife finden. Wir können verwoben finden die Kräfte, die das Kind hereingebracht hat in die physische Welt durch die Geburt, und die sich nicht ausgelebt haben in der physischen Welt, da das Karma es nicht zugelassen hat, wir können sie verwoben finden in die kosmischen Kräfte hinein, und wir können allmählich wahrnehmen, wie eine reife Seele, die sich durch den Tod hindurchgerungen hat zum kosmischen Dasein, nach und nach zum Sphärendasein heranwächst. Und wenn eine solche Seele ein Kind war in der letzten Inkarnation, so können wir wahrnehmen, wie sie verhältnismäßig rasch heranwächst, um zu dirigieren dasjenige, was dem Kosmos sich an Kräften einfügt. Dann lernen wir den Menschen nach dem Tode kennen, wie wenn er mit seiner eigenen Wesenheit dirigiert die Kräfte, die in seinem Todesspektrum sind, und die sich hineinverweben in den Kosmos. So wächst der Mensch hinein in jenes Schaffen, das man das Himmelsschaffen nennen kann. Dann verwächst sein willensartiges Gefühl, sein gefühlsmäßiges Willensimpuls-Element mit der Welt draußen. Wie wenn wir uns im physischen Leibe als Kind allmählich anpassen mit unseren Sinnesorganen an die äußere Welt, wie wir da ins Schauen hineinwachsen, so wachsen wir nach dem Tode ins Wesen hinein, ins Wesentliche; in die Willensentfaltung wachsen wir hinein.
Und wenn wir solche Erscheinungen auf uns wirken lassen in echt geisteswissenschaftlichem Sinne, dann werden wir nach und nach merken, wie die Maja des äußeren Lebens an den verschiedenen Stellen verschieden stark gewoben ist. Sie ist schwer zu durchdringen an solchen Stellen wie beim Tode eines ganz jungen Kindes, weil das meiste, was da äußere Erscheinung war, dasjenige stört, was an die Stelle treten muß, damit wir uns eine richtige Vorstellung machen von dem, was der Mensch nach dem Tode ist.
Es gibt dann aber auch Menschen, bei denen verhältnismäßig leicht zu durchdringen ist das Gewebe der Maja, weil die Wahrheit ihres Wesens sich tief hat einfügen können auch dem, was als Maja hier in der physischen Welt zwischen der Geburt und dem Tode bei ihnen lebt. Solche Menschen gibt es,auch, Menschen, welche schöne Schätze geistigen inneren Reichtums bei ihrer Geburt hinuntertragen in die physische Welt, und die in der Lage sind, einzuverweben in die Art wie sie sind, das, was sie aus der geistigen Welt hinuntergetragen haben. Es sind diejenigen Menschenwesen, die wir um dessentwillen, was gleichsam die Schöpfer in ihrer Liebe aus ihnen gemacht haben, unendlich lieben müssen, bei denen wir oftmals nicht fragen, warum wir sie lieben, sondern bei denen uns die Liebe zu ihnen als eine Selbstverständlichkeit vorkommt. Solche Wesen sind gleichsam lebendige Zeugen der geistigen Welt, weil sie außerordentlich stark ähnlich sehen ihrem geistigen Wesen hier in der physischen Welt schon, und weil das Gewebe der Maja, allerdings durch die Liebe nur, aber durch diese recht bald, auseinandergelegt werden kann, so daß man in die Tiefe der Seele dann hineinzuschauen vermag.
Es gehört solchen Menschen gegenüber eine gewisse Zartheit, eine intime Zartheit dazu, sich zu ihnen zu stellen, weil sie viel, viel heruntertragen von der geistigen Welt in das physische Dasein, und weil sie dann nach dem Tode gleichsam so dastehen, wie wenn sie lebendige Zeugen wären für die doch unendlich tief bedeutsame Tatsache, daß in allen Offenbarungen hier in dieser Welt auch die Impulse der geistigen Welt weiterleben. Erblicken wir solche Menschen nach dem Tode, so stellen sie sich uns so dar, wie wenn sie uns sagen wollten: So waren wir vorher, und daß wir so in tiefster, tiefster innerlicher Wahrheit waren, das bewahrheitet sich jetzt, da wir durch die Pforte des Todes geschritten sind. — So stehen sie da wie Glaubensapostel auch nach dem Tode, wie Apostel für den Glauben, der uns an das Leben, das wir hier in der physischen Welt verbringen, glauben läßt.
So steht auch da unsere hingestorbene Freundin Sibyl Colazza, steht da wie ein Apostel für den Glauben, daß die Welt, in der wir leben, durchdrungen ist von Geistigkeit. Und da haben wir zu erklären, warum gerade bei ihr das Eigentümliche eingetreten ist, daß im Anblick ihres geistigen Wesens bewahrheitet werden mußte dasjenige, was sie durch “die Hülle des äußeren Lebens hindurch auch schon in der physischen Welt für jeden, der sie kennen und lieben lernte, darlebte. Daher der andere Ton in den Worten, die aus ihrer Seele heraus gesprochen werden mußten, weil das Individuelle gerade in dem lag, wovon ich jetzt gesprochen habe:
Und es durchseelte dieses Wesen
Deine Stimme, die beredt
Durch des Wortes Art mehrAls in dem Worte selbst
Offenbarte, was verborgen
In Deiner schönen Seele weset;
Merken Sie, daß die Darstellung der Vergangenheit, des Imperfektums übergeht in die Gegenwart, das Präsens, weil zusammenfloß der Anblick des Lebens im Leibe mit dem Anblick des Lebens nach dem Tode. Das drückt sich selbst im Worte aus. So notwendig fließt das Wort, das aus der geistigen Welt heraus geprägt werden muß. So daß gesagt werden muß: es durchseelte dieses Wesen deine Stimme, die beredt durch des Wortes Art mehr als in dem Worte selbst offenbarte, was verborgen in deiner Seele «weset», also nicht «wesete», sondern «weset», fortwirkt, da ist.
Doch das hingebender Liebe
Teilnahmsvoller Menschen
Sich wortlos voll enthüllte:
- man kann auch sagen «enthüllt» —
Dies Wesen, das von edler, stiller Schönheit
Der Welten-Seelen-Schöpfung
Empfänglichem Empfinden kündete.
- man kann auch sagen «verkündet» —. Es fließen da die beiden Zeiten Zusammen.
Nun nehmen wir eine Seele, wie die unseres zu unserem Leide so jung verstorbenen Freundes Fritz Mitscher, eine Seele, welche dem, der sie kennenlernte, sich darlebte so, daß man ihr Wesen im schönsten Sinne des Wortes ausdrücken kann, wenn man ein Wort prägt, das abstrakt und trocken klingen kann, das aber wirklich dieses Wesen zum Ausdruck bringen kann, das Wort: ein objektiver Mensch. Fritz Mitscher war ein ganz objektiver Mensch. Die Momente, wo ein Fritz Mitscher von sich erzählt hätte, die hat es kaum gegeben. Wenn er von sich auch erzählt hat, so war das Von-sich-Erzählen im Grunde genommen nur scheinbar. Es war nur so, daß er seine Beziehungen zu dem oder zu jenem in der Außenwelt charakterisierte. Sein Ich stand fast gar nirgends, ich kann nicht sagen, im Mittelpunkte der Betrachtung, es stand nicht einmal am Horizonte der Betrachtung. Und es war charakteristisch bei ihm, daß er - wie es natürlich ist, wenn ein älterer Mann mit einem jüngeren Mann sich unterhält über allerlei Lebensratschläge, daß man das Gespräch auf ihn selbst bringt -, daß er dann, wenn er von sich reden sollte, in gewisser Weise einem sogar entschlüpfte und ablenkte von sich das Gespräch auf dasjenige, was er zu erleben hatte um sich herum, um es zu charakterisieren mit der Kunst, mit der er schon charakterisieren konnte, die er aus der Geisteswissenschaft gewonnen hatte, Er war also ein objektiver Mensch, ein Mensch der Objektivität. Er dachte nicht daran, was er der Welt bedeutete, er dachte nicht daran, wie sein Ich sich in die Welt hineinstellte. Er hatte im eminentesten Sinne überall nur sachliche Interessen, jene sachlichen Interessen, die sich so charakteristisch ausdrücken, wenn man so gar nicht bedacht ist auf die Art, wie sich solche sachlichen Interessen in die Welt hineinstellen.
Fritz Mitscher gehörte zu denjenigen Menschen, die von früh auf einen gleichen Eifer angewendet haben, irgend jemandem im vorübergehenden Gespräche mit der äußersten Objektivität die ihm tiefsten Wahrheiten zu entwickeln; er gehörte zu denjenigen Menschen, die immer denselben Eifer da anwenden, weil sie sich für die Sache und nicht für die Person und das Hereinstellen der eigenen Persönlichkeit in die Welt interessieren. Und wenn er vor einem Auditorium gesprochen hat, so war es das reinste, keuscheste Aufgehen in die Sache, niemals das SichVerlieren in die seelische Unkeuschheit des Über-sich-Sprechens. Das war so charakteristisch für ihn. Und das befähigte ihn ja auch in so eminentem Grade dazu, die Welt wirklich so aufzufassen, daß man durch das Medium der Idee, des Gedankens, der Vorstellung in die Welt hineinkommt, nicht aus ihr herauskommt, sondern in sie hineinkommt. Immer tiefer lebte er sich daher durch den Gedanken, durch die Idee, durch die Vorstellung in die Weltenzusammenhänge hinein: so lebte er mit der Welt zusammen, lebte mit seinem Ich - weil er so wenig davon sprach — eben so drinnen in den Dingen und nicht nur in seiner Haut darinnen.
Solche Menschen sind es im Grunde genommen, die allein wirklich dasjenige verstehen, was Ideale in der Welt sind, was das Leben in Ideen und Idealen ist. Leben in den Ideen und Idealen ist ja nicht bloß: Ideen und Ideale haben - die kann man ja haben, sie sind im Leben so leicht zu pflücken wie Brombeeren -, aber darum handelt es sich nicht bloß, daß man Ideen und Ideale hat, sondern darum handelt es sich, daß man Ideen und Ideale in ihrer gedanklichen Reinheit hat, und das fliehen so unendlich viele Menschen. Vor dem Denken fliehen ja die Menschen in ganzen Scharen. Oh, meine lieben Freunde, man braucht nichts anderes zu tun, als die Imagination vor seine Seele zu rufen, die reale Imagination vor seine Seele zu rufen des wirklich reinen Denkens, des Lebens im reinen Gedanken, in sinnlichkeitsfreien Gedanken und Ideen, diesen keuschen Quell des Seelendaseins hinzustellen, und dann einmal zu probieren, die Spektren der Menschen darum herum zu stellen, und man wird finden: in ganzen Scharen fliehen die Menschen vor diesem keuschen Quell der sinnlichkeitsfreien Gedankenwelt. Oh, das ist etwas Nüchternes, Trockenes, das ist etwas, was einem die Liebe aus dem Herzen reißt, es ist etwas Kaltes, Eisiges -, sagen sie, und sie fliehen, fliehen in ganzen Scharen, und nur wenige, wenige bleiben stehen, in seelischer Keuschheit. Das sind die wirklichen Philosophenseelen, das sind die für die Philosophie wirklich veranlagten Menschen. Zu ihnen gehören solche Naturen, wie Fritz Mitscher war.
Daher bildet sich bei solchen Naturen verhältnismäßig wie eine Selbstverständlichkeit heraus, daß sie in Zusammenhänge hineinwachsen, auf die natürlichste Weise hineinwachsen, ich muß sogar besser sagen, daß sie sich durch ihr Karma in die Zusammenhänge hineintragen lassen. Gerade das war bei Fritz Mitscher im allerhöchsten Maße der Fall. Nirgends konnte man bemerken bei ihm, daß er sich an einen Platz hinstellen wollte aus einer Absicht heraus, aus einer im physischen Leibe gefaßten Absicht heraus. Überall war es so, daß er sich von dem Strome des Karma hinführen ließ zu den Aufgaben. Das ist wiederum die richtige Philosophennatur, die man eher etwas hinführen muß zu den Aufgaben, als daß sie aus einem egoistischen Willen heraus sich zu dieser oder jener Aufgabe drängen würde. Denn solche echten Philosophennaturen, die wissen in ihrem tiefen inneren Fühlen nur allzustark - und in ihren Impulsen -, daß man ja im Grunde wirklich reif zu einer Aufgabe niemals ist, und daß man eigentlich nur glauben kann, man wäre reif für eine Aufgabe, wenn man maßlos eitel ist, daß man eigentlich immer etwas vorausnimmt von dem, was man später erst leisten kann. Denn bloß, wenn man diese Gesinnung hat, dann verspürt man in seinem Leben etwas von dem, was die innere Berufung ist. Und es wird dann das Leben in gewisser Weise durchdrungen von dem: Erkenne dich! - Man lernt ja sich am besten erkennen, wenn man wenig von seinem Ich spricht und denkt. Dann wird das, was man wirkt und arbeitet für das Leben, durchdrungen von dem: Erkenne dich, leb’ mit der Welt in Frieden!
Es war dies die Devise des Fritz Mitscher. Solch ein Leben setzt sich dann in die geistige Welt hinein fort und bleibt dasjenige, was es war, nur daß aus dem Keim die Frucht in der geistigen Welt wird. Wir müssen dann absehen von jener Betrachtung, die ja unreal wäre, daß wir uns fragten: Was wäre aus solch einer Wesenheit geworden, wenn sie länger hätte bleiben können in der physischen Welt? Das ist eine unreale Betrachtung. Die reale Betrachtung führt uns gerade zu dem Großen, Wunderbaren, daß aufgenommen wird eine solche Seele in die geistigen Welten, und daß dasjenige, was sie nun in den geistigen Welten zu leisten berufen ist, sich zu dem, was sie hier durchlebt hat zwischen Geburt und Tod, verhält wie die Frucht der Pflanze zu dem Samen, so daß das hiesige Leben wirklich ein Samenleben für das geistige Leben nach dem Tode ist.
So müssen sich einem gerade bei einer Natur, welche in der Objektivität lebt, wenn man sie nach dem Tode betrachtet, die Worte in die Seele hereinsenken, die diese Objektivität der Lebensauffassung charakterisieren, aber auch das Verhältnis zur umliegenden Welt: in der Welt drinnenstehen und mit der Wesenheit in der Welt drinnenstehen. So war es denn notwendig über Fritz Mitscher zu sprechen, wobei eben gerade dieser Unterschied zwischen dem Samen hier und der Pflanze, die sich weiter entwickelt dort, sich als das Charakteristische vor die Seele hinstellt. So erkläre ich mir, warum die Worte gerade so wurden, wie sie waren:
Ein Verlust, der tief uns schmerzt,
So entschwindest Du dem Feld,
Wo des Geistes Erdenkeime
In dem Schoß des Seelenseins
Deinem Sphärensinne reiften...Eine Hoffnung, uns beglückend:
So betratest Du das Feld,
Wo der Erde Geistesblüten
Durch die Kraft des Seelenseins
Sich dem Forschen zeigen möchten.Lautrer Wahrheitliebe Wesen
War Dein Sehnen urverwandt;
Aus dem Geisteslicht zu schaffen
War das ernste Lebensziel,
Dem Du rastlos nachgestrebt....Eine Hoffnung, uns beglückend
So betratest Du das Feld,
Wo der Erde Geistesblüten
Durch die Kraft des Seelenseins
Sich dem Forschen zeigen möchten.Höre unsrer Seelen Bitte,
Im Vertrau’n Dir nachgesandt:
Wir bedürfen hier zum Erdenwerk
Starker Kraft aus Geistes-Landen,
Die wir toten Freunden danken.Eine Hoffnung, uns beglückend
Ein Verlust, der tief uns schmerzt:
Laß uns hoffen, daß Du ferne-nah,
Unverloren unsrem Leben leuchtest,
Als ein Seelen-Stern im Geistbereich.
So konnte denn Fritz Mitscher geradezu die Individualität sein, bei der ausgesprochen wurde dasjenige, was aber real und wirklich war bei vielen unserer toten Freunde bei ihrem Eintritt in die geistige Welt: Sie werden auf dem Felde des geistigen Lebens, das wir zu pflegen haben, unsere wirksamsten Mitarbeiter, sie werden diejenigen, zu denen wir mit besonderem Danke aufschauen, wenn wir an die Aufgaben der gegenwärtigen und zukünftigen geistigen Entwickelung denken müssen, Aufgaben, die sich nur schwierig und langsam werden realisieren lassen innerhalb unseres Erdenseins mit den Kräften bloß, die in physischen Leibern inkarniert sind. So erscheint es mir bei unseren durch die Pforte des Todes gehenden Freunden, wie wenn es überall am Platze gewesen wäre, ihnen, wie auch unserem Freunde Christian Morgenstern, mitzugeben die Bitte, so bei uns zu bleiben, daß durch ihre Kräfte vieles getan werden kann in unserer geistigen Bewegung, was mit bloß irdischen Kräften eben nicht getan werden kann.
Gerade dieses mußte man als letzten Erdengruß an solche Individualitäten richten, und deutlich ausgesprochen werden muß es ganz besonders bei unserem lieben Freunde Fritz Mitscher, der auch mit seiner Jugendkraft in der in diesen Tagen charakterisierten Weise unser starker Helfer sein wird, der wahrhafter Trost sein wird, Trost da, wo Trost nötig ist. Er ist oftmals nötig.
Es ist so mancherlei, was insbesondere in der letzten Zeit unseres Wirkens und Schaffens und unseres Strebens uns so recht vor Augen führt, wie groß die Hemmnisse, die wirklich nicht eingebildeten Hemmnisse des physischen Planes sind, wie schwer sich die Vorurteile der Menschen entgegenstellen demjenigen, was bei uns geleistet werden muß, und in welch widerspruchsvoller Weise sie sich oftmals entgegenstellen.
Man braucht etwa nur ein solches Beispiel zu nehmen: Die Menschen draußen, außerhalb unserer geisteswissenschaftlichen Strömung, schreiben Broschüren - dasjenige, was ich jetzt sage, ist wirklich nicht aus einem persönlichen Grunde gesagt, weil ich mich dabei nur als schwaches Instrument fühle der geistigen Bewegung, die uns zu tragen hat -, also die Menschen draußen schreiben Broschüren über Broschüren darüber, wie von unseren Anhängern alles, ohne geprüft zu werden, auf Treu und Glauben und auf Vertrauen hingenommen wird, wie gewissermaßen in unserem Kreise nichts vorhanden wäre, als der blinde Glaube. So charakterisiert man draußen unsere Bewegung: als wären alle bloß blindgläubige Tröpfe, die nur auf das Vertrauen hin, das sie haben, nachlaufen. Das draußen!
Innerhalb der Mauern sieht es manchmal mit diesem Vertrauen wenn man auf dasjenige Vertrauen etwas gibt, das in den tieferen Seelengründen vorhanden ist und nicht bloß in den Worten, an der Oberfläche liegt - gar nicht so glänzend aus. So daß ein großer Widerspruch vorhanden ist zwischen dem, wessen uns die Leute in ihren Broschüren anklagen, und dem, was in so reicher Überfülle innerhalb der Mauern unserer Gesellschaft vorhanden sein sollte. Es ist ein klaffender Widerspruch. Denn wenn es wirklich hat vorkommen können ohne Kritik und vor allen Dingen ohne Bitterkeit sage ich das, was ich zu sagen habe, und ohne im allergeringsten eine Persönlichkeit treffen zu wollen -, wenn es hat vorkommen können, daß mit Rücksicht auf mancherlei, was ich im Herbste hier an dieser Stelle gesagt habe, hat geschrieben werden können: der Doktor Steiner vertrödelt seine okkulten Forschungen mit solchen Angelegenheiten — und unter Angelegenheiten ist hier dasjenige gemeint, was ich dazumal zur Sprache gebracht habe -, er vertrödelt also seine okkulten Kräfte für solche Dinge, die dazumal ausgesprochen worden sind -, wenn das hat geschrieben werden können, dann ist das doch ein klarer Beweis dafür, daß jenes Vertrauen, dessen wir draußen in der Welt, als einzig bei uns herrschend angeklagt werden, wenn es auch vielfach in den oberen Bewufßtseinsschichten als Maja vorhanden ist, doch in den tiefern Seelenkräften gar nicht so außerordentlich fest sitzt.
Schließlich wird dasjenige, was als Lehre hier vorgebracht wird, auf keine Autorität gegründet und niemals als Dogma zu glauben gefordert. Das ist gerade gesagt mit der Tendenz, daß es in allen Einzelheiten geprüft werde. Aber etwas wie sich zum Richter aufwerfen darüber, worauf ich selbst zu erstrecken habe meine okkulten Forschungen und worauf nicht, das ist eine Geistestyrannis, die im eminentesten Sinne nicht aus dem entspringt, was natürlich bis zu einem gewissen Grade vorhanden sein muß, nicht, um Geisteswissenschaft aufzunehmen, was aber vorhanden sein muß, ich möchte sagen, um der Gesellschaft willen. Es ist eine Geistestyrannis, die aus unterbewußtem Mangel an Vertrauen entspringt. Um Lehren entgegenzunehmen, braucht man kein Vertrauen; aber um dem Geistesforscher nicht vorzuschreiben, was er aus der geistigen Welt aufzunehmen hat, sondern vorauszusetzen, daß der Vertreter der Geisteswissenschaft selbst weiß, was er zu tun hat und selber über dasjenige, was in das Gebiet seiner Forschungen fällt, entscheiden muß, dazu gehört ein Vertrauen, das ja auch der Bewegung niemals irgendwie unförderlich sein kann, weil es über den Kreis des Persönlichen nicht hinausgeht, weil es die Lehre nicht berührt. Aber es bezeichnet eine solche Tatsache — wie viele ähnliche Tatsachen es bezeigen -, daß schon große Hemmnisse und Schwierigkeiten vorhanden sind, und daß es schon notwendig ist, daß wir immer weiter und weiter, fern von alle dem, was einem Wunsche des Wirkens ähnlich sieht, innerhalb unserer geistigen Bewegung das, was aus der Einsicht in die innere Notwendigkeit hervorgeht, als Pflicht tun. Diese Pflicht wird immer getan werden, wenn sie auch noch so sauer gemacht werden sollte, nach den gewöhnlichen Auffassungen des Lebens das Wort «sauer» genommen.
Aber gerade dann, wenn wir sehen, daß wir solchen teuren Toten geben dürfen etwas wie eine Art persönlichen Auftrag, mit uns zu sein durch ihre Kräfte, mit unseren Kräften zusammen zu wirken, dann entspringt für unsere Bewegung ein Gefühl von Sicherheit, das die physische Welt niemals geben könnte.
Und so fließt ein in unsere Bewegung, in dem Angedenken an unsere teuren Toten, in die Impulse selber etwas, was übersinnlich ist, was nicht bloß aus demjenigen entspringt, was wir hier manchmal gar nicht zur Beflügelung unseres Wirkens in der physischen Welt erleben können. Es entspringt sozusagen die Möglichkeit daraus, daß einfließt in die Maja unseres Gesellschaftswirkens Übersinnliches an Impulsen, daß wir uns sicher wissen, weil bei dem, was wir tun, nicht bloß das ist, was sich äußerlich auf dem physischen Plan vollzieht, sondern in diesem konkreten Sinn dabei ist auch dasjenige, was übersinnlich ist, da mit uns geblieben sind, wenn auch nicht im physischen Sein, unsere teueren Toten, so daß wir uns sicher wissen im Wirken, welches sich im Strome des geistigen Werdens drinnen empfindet.
Höre unsrer Seelen Bitte,
Im Vertrau’n Dir nachgesandt:
Wir bedürfen hier zum Erdenwerk
Starker Kraft aus Geistes-Landen,
Die wir toten Freunden danken.
So sprechen wir real von unseren teuren Toten als von unseren Genossen, unseren Kameraden, unseren Mitarbeitern, als von denjenigen, deren Wesen unsichtbar unter uns waltet. So ergreifen wir in dieser Weise konkret das unsichtbare Wesen, geben in der sichtbaren Welt ein letztes Mal physisch dem Freunde die Hand und empfangen dann geistig, nach dem Tode, diese Hand aus der übersinnlichen Welt. Und in diesem Wechseln des Händedrucks sehen wir das Symbol für das Wirken innerhalb einer Gesellschaft, die nicht nur für die physische Welt sprechen soll, die hereinrufen soll zu ihrer Wirksamkeit auch die übersinnlichen Welten. Solchem Wirken, solchem Arbeiten wollen wir eine Stätte bauen hier auf diesem Hügel. Möge für solches Wirken hier eine Stätte sein!
Seventh Lecture
We have been considering what can be called the problem of death, and we have drawn on various experiences of recent times, some of them painful.
First of all, I would like to draw attention to some more general points that are connected with this problem of death and that can be explored by the means provided by the knowledge of initiation. One must certainly imagine that when a person passes through the gate of death, he enters a world that is completely different from the one he is accustomed to, contrary to what is often thought. It is an understandable tendency of human nature to imagine the realm beyond death, the spiritual realm into which we enter through the gate of death, to be similar to the realm of the senses and the intellect in which we live between birth and death. I say it is an understandable tendency to imagine this realm beyond death as a kind of continuation of the realm here; but this is a mistake. For it is difficult to find words in the treasure trove of our language that make it possible to characterize even adequately the experiences between death and a new birth. I have often mentioned that our language is designed for the physical world and that we must, in a sense, internalize our relationship to words if we want to enable them to express what lies beyond death.
The way these words come out of the soul when the soul wants to describe something that lies beyond death is completely different from the way words come out of us in the sensory world and in the world of the intellect. Rather, it is this way of expressing oneself about the spiritual world, its beings, and its manifestations, a surrendering to this spiritual world and a letting the words be given to oneself.
Words such as those I shared with you yesterday in reference to our dear Mrs. Grosheintz are not formed in the same way that words are formed when one wants to express something in the external physical world, but rather they are formed in such a way that they are, as it were, poured into one's own soul by the being in question, so that? the being in question gives them, pours them in, so that we do not then have the feeling that we are expressing something we see through these words; rather, we have the distinct feeling that something is expressing itself through us, something that uses us, as it were, only as its organ to express itself, to objectify itself in spiritual language. It is therefore a completely different process, it is a surrendering of one's soul to the being with whom one is dealing, and such a surrendering that this being finds the possibility to express its own inner nature and its own inner experiences with our tools. It is, if one coins the word, not like adapting oneself to something external, but like surrendering oneself to the being in question, like making one's words available to this being so that this being can then make use of our words itself.
So it is a completely different way of approaching objectivity than the way we do here in the sensory and intellectual world. Therefore, one of the very first conditions for gaining a proper relationship to the spiritual world is a certain inner flexibility, a certain ability to adapt to the most diverse individualities, a constant possibility of stepping outside oneself and entering into other individualities. If one really wants to express with a certain accuracy—if I may use that word—what is in the supersensible world and what lives there, as it is for those who have passed through the gate of death, one must above all be thoroughly healed of what can be called the earthly ego-delusion; one must have penetrated to the core to think as little as possible about oneself, to place oneself as little as possible at the center of one's view of the world. If one has a strong tendency to talk a lot about oneself, to think a lot about oneself, then one must overcome this tendency, for this talking a lot about oneself, this thinking a lot about oneself, is really the worst way to self-knowledge. If you have a tendency to talk a lot about yourself, to judge everything in such a way that you are primarily concerned with how you fit into the world, what you mean to the world: if you have this tendency, then you are ill-suited to finding your way in the spiritual world or expressing anything about the spiritual world.
In a spiritual sense, you are most concerned with yourself when you are least concerned with yourself in the earthly sense, when you think least about yourself in the earthly sense; for what is most interesting to us in the earthly sense—the connection between the world and our own person—is the most meaningless, the most insignificant thing in the spiritual world.
Therefore, we will always find that the path to true spiritual reality becomes very difficult for us if we have to find every opportunity to speak according to our inner disposition, about what should happen through us, about what we might be worth to the world, and so on.
If we apply this method to everyday life, then we cannot cope even in everyday life, which is also dominated internally by spiritual forces and impulses. There one can find the most remarkable connections. I have met people who complain a lot about finding it extremely difficult to get up in the morning, that they find it hard to make the decision to get out of bed. I have even met people who calmly admitted that if there were no external compulsion to get up, they would not want to get up at all.
One can always find an inner connection between the whole being of a person and such a tendency. As a rule, these will be people who tell you a lot about themselves, who talk a lot about what they like and dislike, who tell you a lot about what they have encountered here and there for their good or ill, and the like. Anyone who wants to prepare themselves for a truly objective understanding of the spiritual world must pay attention to such connections, for we must observe life if we want to enter into reality. And you can be sure of this: as human beings, we are, through our natural dispositions, generally not so hostile to anything as we are to the demand to take life objectively; we are inclined to nothing so much as to regard ourselves with too much seriousness and external life with too little seriousness. It takes a long time to come up with words that can really be genuine, good guiding principles for life, and you can often see how great geniuses go through a lot to then express all their wisdom in a single word. That means something completely different than when it's said by someone in their everyday life.
I once pointed out—it was in connection with the lectures I gave in Norrköping—how easy it is to say the great, powerful words of old John: “Children, love one another.” But it means something completely different when a fool, some silly person, says it to the world than when John said it at the end of a rich life in which he had gone through much, much here on earth.
It is not only the correctness of the words that matters, but also the depths of the soul from which they are spoken, the depths from which they spring. Goethe, too, through a rich life, struggled to find beautiful words whose deep meaning should be explored; but not in such a way that one believes – by pointing to these words – that they can be understood in every situation in life. To understand it in this way is—I would like to coin the paradoxical word “far too simple.” For every child is capable of understanding it in this way. But how it must be understood when one has understood it like Goethe, on the basis of a rich, abundant life experience, is not possible for every child to understand. I am referring to the words: “Know thyself, live at peace with the world!” The connection between these two sentences – and this is what matters – shows us that there is no self-knowledge that does not truly lead to a life at peace with the world.
I would really like to discuss all these things in as much detail as possible, because they are much more important than you might think at first. But I can only point them out and leave much, especially with regard to such matters, to your own meditation. I would like to point out, however, that according to many people, there is a lack of material for meditation! There is really no lack of it, if one has the good will to allow the material for meditation that presents itself in life to be offered by life as such.
Now, the one who passes through the gate of death is immediately dissuaded by this very fact from all the maya-conditions in which he lives, in which he is entangled here as long as he dwells in the physical body; he is dissuaded from them because they are imposed on him by his embodiment in the physical body. Above all, they are freed from many activities that have become dear to them in the life between birth and death and which, since they no longer have a physical body, they can no longer carry out after death. The whole nature of life becomes different, the relationship to the world becomes completely different, and if you meditate on the Vienna cycle “The Inner Being of Man and Life Between Death and Rebirth,” you will gain an idea of the completely different way in which one must relate to the world if one wants to form correct concepts and ideas about this life between death and rebirth. One must simply live out the words that have been attempted to be expressed here, stammeringly, and try to experience them deeply within oneself. This is urgently necessary in such matters.
I have already pointed out in recent days that the moment of death can basically only be compared externally with the moment of birth in physical human life. For in the everyday course of life, unless clairvoyant knowledge supports the human being, he does not remember back to his birth in the physical body. Through the abilities given to us by the earth, we do not remember how, not even that we were born. If there are people today who believe that they know everything through the senses, they do not think about the fact that they cannot even experience the initial event of their earthly life through the senses, but only through being told that they were born, and moreover on the basis of a conclusion that is often unconscious but nevertheless made unconsciously. If one does not want to resort to clairvoyant powers, there are only two ways to convince oneself that one has been born: to be told so, or to draw a conclusion: other people are born; I am similar to other people; therefore, I must also have been born at some point. A correct conclusion. And there is no other method available to earthly powers to advance toward the fact of one's own birth than to be told about it or to draw this analogy. Thus, the effort to gain enlightenment about one's own birth already begins with the realization that it is not possible to find a basis for truth in mere sensory perception.
The moment of death is quite unlike the moment of birth, inasmuch as in the spiritual world one can always look back upon the moment of death, whereas one cannot look back upon the moment of birth with the ordinary faculties of the physical body. In the spiritual world, in the time between death and a new birth, one can always look at the moment of death, from the moment when one first became conscious of it. There it stands, but not as we see it with its horrors from this side of life, but as a wonderfully glorious event of life, as the emergence of the spiritual-soul being of the human being from the physical-sensory envelope; it stands there as the liberation of the impulses of will and feeling from the flooding, objectively flooding thought being.
The fact that human beings are not able to perceive this moment of death immediately after death is not because we have too little consciousness when death occurs, but on the contrary, because we have too much consciousness. Just remember what is said in the Vienna lectures: that we do not live in too little wisdom, but in too much wisdom, in a wisdom that floods us, that is infinite, that presses upon us from all sides. It is impossible for us to be unwise after death. This wisdom comes over us like a light flooding us from all sides, and we must, on the contrary, first learn to limit ourselves, to orient ourselves in that in which we are not initially oriented. So, by lowering this highly elevated consciousness to the level of consciousness that we can bear after our earthly preparation for death, we come to what we can call awakening after death.
We awaken after death, immediately after death, too strongly, and we must first reduce this excessive awakening, dampen it to the degree that corresponds to the abilities we have prepared for ourselves through the experiences we have gone through in our various earthly incarnations. So it is a struggle to assert ourselves in the consciousness that overwhelms us from all sides.
And now comes something in which we all, after death as well as when we want to enter properly into initiation, must first recover, so to speak, from the habits of physical-sensory life. To make myself clear, I would like to refer to something that happened in the past. When we began our spiritual scientific movement in Berlin, in a very small circle, we were initially joined by a wide variety of people. We were a very small circle at that time. One day, not long after we had begun our work, a personality from this circle came and declared that she had to leave, because she had realized that we were not on the right path: for it was not important to seek all the things we were seeking, but rather to seek unity. It was something like a fixed idea for this person. In a long conversation, they developed this fixed idea of unity, and then they left us to seek unity. This person believed that by seeking unity, with this fixed idea of unity, they would enter into the supersensible realm. But this idea of unity is one that arises only from the ultimate abstraction of external physical life. This striving for unity is in fact the most sensual thing that human beings can strive for. One must be healed of this very striving for unity if one wants to stand correctly in the spiritual world. Here in the sensory world, it is so natural for us to say: We must seek unity everywhere; we must seek unity out of multiplicity, out of diversity. But that is something that only has meaning for the sensory-physical world here. For when we pass through the gate of death, we do not have multiplicity, but what appears before our soul as an overflowing consciousness: when we have passed through the gate of death, we have nothing but unity around us, unity again and again. Then it becomes important to find multiplicity, diversity, in the right way. We must strive for nothing else than to come out of unity and into multiplicity.
Now I would like to give you a really accurate idea of how one enters multiplicity from unity. Suppose you step through the gate of death and enter this world flooded with spiritual wisdom. At first, we enter this world, which initially stuns us when we wake up in it. Let us characterize this world in such a way that we have the light flooding around us as a unity filling the world; that is how it appears to us. We cannot even distinguish ourselves within it. It is so much a unity that we cannot even distinguish ourselves within it, that we ourselves do not have this distinction between ourselves and the world; rather, we belong completely to the world. Everything is a unity.
But now let us answer a question – and I ask you to think not just a little, but quite a lot about the answer I am going to give – let us answer the question: What actually is this unity into which we are taken up? Think of all the beings of the higher hierarchies, of which you know nine, or ten if we include human beings. There are a large number of beings in each hierarchy. They all think; it is not only human beings who think, but the beings of all these higher hierarchies. So imagine this whole sum of beings into which we are taken when we pass through the gate of death. They are around us. Passing through the gate of death, we are taken into the whole fullness of spiritual beings. At first we do not perceive them, but we are within them: what first surrounds us is precisely this unity. And what is this unity? It is the thoughts of all the hierarchies merging into one another. What all the hierarchies think together, this world of thoughts of the hierarchies, without distinction between what one hierarch thinks and what another hierarch thinks: all this merges into one unity. We grow into these thoughts of the hierarchies. That is the thought-light being that surrounds us. That is this unity. So we live in the thoughts of the hierarchies flowing together into a unity. We live there.
And what is it that continues in our life after death? It is that we gain a relationship with the individual beings that we lift out of the sea of thoughts in which the thoughts of all hierarchies flow together, and gain a relationship with the individual beings, with the multiplicity. After death, we must not only gain a relationship with the unity of the flowing thought beings of the hierarchies, for that is given to us; but we must work our way through so that we gain a relationship with the individual entities of the hierarchies. How do we achieve this?
At first, we are flooded by this sea of thoughts from the hierarchies, which are swimming together and flowing together. Through what we have now acquired in the physical body, our own inner being remains at the gate of death, which we are looking toward, rising out of the sensory envelope. This gives us strength of will, feeling-like impulses of will, will-like impulses of feeling. We become aware of these within ourselves as we look at the being that emerges from the body, which is what we are after death. This enables us, as it were, to draw out our rays of will. And when we now shine such a ray of will, which we draw from the power of death, which is born with death, into the environment, we erase something in the world of thoughts at a certain point. And when we direct it elsewhere, we erase something in another place; in this way we erase something in a third, in a fourth place; in short, we erase the world of thoughts that surrounds us in various places through the impulses of our will. And as we erase it, in the hollow spaces of the flooding sea of thoughts of the hierarchies, we encounter, if I may say so, the thought hierarchy, the being that lives there, in the spiritual world.
While we strive here in the physical world to find a thought for the things we see, in the spiritual world, because thoughts are available to us in abundance, we must erase them, remove them; then the beings appear before us. We must become masters of our thoughts, then the beings appear before us. And this power to master our thoughts, to cast them out of our field of vision, so to speak, so that the being can come to meet us in the sea of the flooding world of thoughts, we obtain by the fact that, as the glorious starting point of our spiritual life after death, we are confronted with the sight of dying, of death itself, which becomes our teacher in extinguishing. For after death, death becomes for us the teacher of extinction, the stimulator of those forces of will through which we must extinguish our thoughts in the flooding sea of light.
This points to the completely different way in which human beings relate to their environment after and before death. Just as they must, in a sense, stand in the sensory world, they must place themselves within it, surround themselves with the circle of air, and then wait until something enters that circle. After death, on the other hand, they must proceed in such a way that they have the circle of thought light around them and must themselves extinguish what they have in their thoughts in their field of vision, because only then do the relevant entities appear to them. For here we are dealing with entities, as I have indicated in the book The Threshold of the Spiritual World. Thus one passes from unity into multiplicity, into diversity.
Monism, in the sense in which many understand it, is only an earthly worldview, and it is only a fetter once one has passed through the gate of death; for then, in the most eminent sense, the necessity of monadism immediately arises, the necessity of seeking multiplicity. The search for unity is the ultimate shackle of sensual, intellectual life.
What, then, is it that we are actually doing? It is an activity through which we create space for ourselves so that the hierarchies can approach us. We create space for ourselves. Our being is then spread out over the whole world—we have already pointed this out repeatedly. We create space for ourselves by creating these hollow spaces so that what is objective can appear to us post mortem, that is, after death. Nothing can ever appear to us objectively in the spiritual world if we carry our own being into the spiritual world. We can only recognize the other in the spiritual world if we erase our own being, our own essence, from the place where the other wants to appear, and this is what happens in this way.
This is, in essence, the process that is now also necessary if one wants to reach the dead in the way I described to you yesterday at the end of the lecture, where there was a need to gain the ability to let the dead speak for themselves, to let the dead express themselves. Then one must try, where the dead person is, to remove oneself, to remove one's own thinking and feeling, and where one has removed this, impulses emerge from the depths of being which, without our will, put the words into our mouths which must then come when we want to express the objective being of a person who is not embodied in the physical body.
You see that what is, in a sense, weakest in human beings in the physical world—the will and the emotional impulses, which are indeed the weakest and most unclear parts of the human soul in the physical world—that which we have the least control over, takes on a special significance in the spiritual world. On the other hand, what is strongest here in the physical world is imagination — we even prefer to live in our illusions and imaginations because that is where we can be most in control — and this is weakest in the spiritual world.
Illusions are of little use in the spiritual world; they obscure the flowing unity of thought beings. What matters is not training our imagination, but training our will and emotions; and that is the essence of meditation. In meditation, it is not what we imagine that matters, but—as I have emphasized again and again—that we imagine with inner strength. What matters is the inner energy, the power, the will, and the feelings and sensations we experience while meditating, that is, an element of will that we develop in meditation and that we develop more strongly when we have to exert ourselves as we should in meditation, but exert ourselves spiritually.
The greatest obstacle to real progress into the spiritual world is the addiction to dreaming, to forming illusions about external reality, because this makes our will weaker and weaker. You make your will weakest when you cultivate the parasites of the imagination, when you form illusions about all kinds of external things, because the path to the spiritual world is not taken by distancing yourself from life, but by becoming clear about the things of life. It is not an impoverishment of external life, but an enrichment of life that must lead us into the spiritual world. People would so much rather grow into the spiritual world through weakness than through strength. It is weakness when one is not interested in the external world, the world of external life, when one cannot fulfill Goethe's maxim: “Know thyself, live at peace with the world.”
Before I continue with these reflections on death, I would like to point out that all artistic activities of human beings must be based on the activities of the soul that are necessary for the soul after death. For the sake of artistic activity, it is precisely the element of will that must be permeated by the spiritual world, rather than the element of perception. In our time of the decline of art, especially of artistic work, the opposite is happening. In our time of the decline of the world view, the very moment that makes the life of the imagination more sophisticated is being brought out. That is why artists in our time are becoming more and more dependent on models, on examples. They can do very little if they do not have models, if they do not have examples. That is why, in our time, artists will increasingly isolate themselves in art. But true art can never come about if one isolates oneself in art; it is the opposite of what should be.
What happens, for example, when someone creates a human being artistically, in painting or sculpture, and does not concern himself with the inner forces that make up this human being, not with the dynamic, but merely approaches and takes a model and treats the model as one treats things when looking at them? Then they distance themselves from the actual principle of artistic creation. The beginning of creation is that one acquires an inner, voluntaristic way of looking, that one does not look from the outside, but penetrates inwardly and feels how the forehead curves, how the nose protrudes, and so on. That is what it is all about.
And this is especially true of nature. Nature is a real inner life in the activities of nature. And here I would like to draw your attention to something that human beings experience immediately when they pass through the gates of death, but which remains largely unknown to them here in the physical world.
When we paint, we prefer to paint what, I would say, extends over the surface of things. We paint light and shadow, we paint colors. Now, external nature is endowed with light and colors for the reason that it does not absorb light and color, but reflects them back. There is the object, and it reflects light and color back to us. Minerals, for example, are minerals because they do not absorb light and color within themselves, but repel them externally. But human beings, with their souls, live precisely in colors. After death, they immediately enter into them, and immediately find themselves in light and color; but here they do not know themselves to be within them. When the landscape painter stands before nature, he must have something of what is between him and the landscape; he must be able to lose himself in it, he must, in a sense, bring something into the physical world that only becomes real when man has passed through the gates of death. This is what makes artistic creation similar to standing within the spiritual world, even though the artist is mostly unaware of being permeated and interwoven with the spiritual world, and also unaware of the necessity that something be awakened by this permeation from the spiritual world. That is why the layout of our building is exactly as it is, because, as I have often explained, it is precisely what is not there that must be taken into account, not what is there. I would say that it is precisely the hollow forms that are left out that must be taken into account, not what is there. In this respect, the practical application of our spiritual scientific movement has made a start that must be made in our current cultural movement.
You see, such intrusions of the spiritual world into human life, I mean through the spectrum of death, as I have shown in the artistic productions of yesterday and the day before yesterday, were commonplace in the not too distant past. Today it is something unusual, and as a natural gift it will become increasingly unusual. It will be less and less present as a natural gift. But the less human beings can form relationships with spiritual diversity here in this physical world, the more bound they will be when they pass through the gate of death. The possibility of creating those hollow forms would disappear if human beings were to completely sever their ties with the spiritual world, as would necessarily happen through the external progress of world phenomena. The old clairvoyance must gradually disappear completely. If we could not restore that relationship to the spiritual world through spiritual scientific development, human beings would lose the ability to live in the spiritual world after death, to be truly existing beings. Through what always remains to them, their looking back on life, in which looking toward death is something quite essential, they would become as if spellbound, as if imprisoned.
Therefore, those who, if I may say so, pass through the gate of death strengthened by spiritual science, show that after death they relatively quickly gain freedom, free activity in the spiritual world. Just think how necessary it is to be deeply connected with what spiritual science can offer in order to live immediately after death in accordance with one's nature, as is evident in the case that has been observed, as in the words that came from Mrs. Grosheintz's soul. So it is a matter of the human being receiving, through spiritual scientific strengthening, what his natural dispositions previously gave him: a relationship to the supersensible, to spiritual phenomena.
If one can see something like a death spectrum purely from natural predispositions—and people in earlier times always saw such death spectra, we just don't know that today because it is a faculty that has been lost—then one sees this death spectrum through the separation of the body; this enables one to see the individual, unique manifestations. You cut these individual manifestations out of the unity. And that is what matters: cutting them out of the unity, learning to cut them out. But the ability to learn to cut them out is completely lost with the atavistic natural clairvoyance, and it must be replaced by growing into spiritual science. But it will also be this strengthening of the spiritual sciences that will bring about the necessary ability for artistic creation in every field in the future. The sculptor, the musician, the painter, the poet will not be able to create if they do not permeate themselves with what the strengthening of the spiritual sciences can give them. Today, people are still afraid of this. This fear comes to expression when a sculptor, a musician, a painter, or a poet comes and says: Oh, spiritual science, that's something where I have to do all sorts of things and strive for all sorts of things, that kills the original artistic creative power in me. You can hear this everywhere, but it is only a fear of the power that is necessary if artistry is to remain truly human in the future. People today still fear what must emerge as the strongest force within them. Times will come in the development of humanity when artistic abilities must mature through the strengthening of the humanities.
However, the nonsense that people can declare themselves artists out of nothing at an early age and then believe they are artists according to their own opinion will no longer have such a hold on people as it does today. They then believe that it is only because the world does not recognize them that their artistry cannot flourish. This nonsense will gradually come to an end. The art of the future will be an art of maturity, and it will only be at a relatively late age that people will feel the inner maturity that leads to artistic activity. People will not believe that in later life they no longer have the strength, the youthful energy, as it is often called, that is necessary for artistic creation; instead, they will find that it is precisely through deepening and strengthening the spiritual sciences that they can release from their inner being the forces that will lead to artistic creation in the future. But today people still fear these powers, just as they often fear what must first be achieved. That is why many artists are often terribly afraid of bringing out their deeper inner being, and when they hear that it is not the outer, earthly human being but the higher human being within them who is supposed to create art, they fall into a state of utter confusion. It is difficult to imagine a more hopeless confusion than that into which an artist of the modern age has fallen when he became aware of what genius is within man, what belongs to the spiritual world, what actually creates in the artist. An artist of the modern age expressed the hopeless fear he had of this spiritual world in approximately the following words:
"Genius is a terrible disease. Every writer carries a monster in his heart that devours all his feelings as soon as they are born. Who will prevail—the disease over man, or man over the disease? One must be a truly great person to keep one's character and genius in balance. If the poet is not a giant, if he does not have the strength of Hercules, he must lose either his heart or his talent."
One wants to get goose bumps, but emotional goose bumps, when such things are said. For it is nothing more than the hopeless fear of what in man is related to the spiritual world that confronts us here. And it is a very consistent statement, even though the author is not at all aware of how great the consistency is; for his use of words such as giants and Hercules is extremely characteristic. It is significant that these particular words come to his lips, or rather to his pen, one might say.
So even the view could arise that man must achieve victory through what he is in earthly life—for that is what these words imply—while true knowledge will lead to the realization that the genius in man, the healthy genius, will penetrate and seize man and make him his instrument.
Another artist of more recent times attaches peculiar words to these sentences I have just read aloud, highly peculiar words. He says:
"Let us recall the tragic demise of Laocoön described in the Aeneid. The citizens of Troy naturally watch with horror and revulsion as the giant serpents strangle Laocoön and his sons. The spectators feel fear, pity, and probably also the desire to save the unfortunate men; however different their mental states may be, the moment of will plays a highly important role in all of them ... But imagine, in the midst of this agitated and shaken crowd, a sculptor who regards the terrible catastrophe unfolding before his eyes as the subject of a future work of art. Amidst the general excitement among the screaming, raving, praying people, he remains a calm observer. All moral instincts are suppressed in him at this moment by aesthetic curiosity."
This is necessary in order to create a work of art! There should be people standing there, in deepest compassion, who are not artists and cannot help, and there should be the cripple, the stump, who has no idea of the pain that all this causes. And this cripple is supposed to be the real artist, who can depict this, who stands there in his stupor, just to observe the scene! We have come so far in the present day that we dare to demand that an artist should be a stump, indifferent to the phenomena of life, so that he can be “objective.” He should tear pity and compassion from his heart, become a dullard, and only then, according to these words, can he depict something in such a way that it fills other people with interest.
One cannot be more severely affected by the most abominable Ahrimanic forces than when one is capable of developing such a view of artistry. This is the decadence of our time, produced by fear and anxiety of spiritual reality: not knowing that if one wants to be an artist, one must empathize with events with even deeper compassion, that one must have even deeper empathy, and only the ability to look at the same events again at a later moment from this deep experience, objectively, so that we can love them as we can love a foreign being, and that we come to artistic creation from this even deeper experience. Our time has come so far in its perversity of worldview that the opposite of truth is trumpeted to the world as the sum of wisdom. And I am convinced that there are countless people who even consider this dullness to be witty, and who consider this praise of artistic dullness to be the final discovery of what artistry actually is. This is where we stand in the present, and we must seek that foundation of spiritual strengthening that gives us the ability to know ourselves in the world into which man also enters in the natural course of events when he passes through the gate of death.
Thus, art can appear to us as akin to death, that is, akin to higher life. To be related to death means to be related to higher life.
In many respects, in order to enter the spiritual world, we must acquire the ability to arrive at other conceptions and other ideas than those that must fill us in order to understand the world we experience between birth and death. Much more, we must bring ourselves to break through the Maya not only in such a way that we find this Maya everywhere and believe that when we pass through it, we are already in the spiritual world. In different places of life, the Maya is of different density. When we encounter different areas of life, we find that the Maya is of different density; it is woven from different substances. Even though it is Maya, it is woven from different materials in different areas of life.
We encounter a child, we get to know it in this physical existence, and we initially form ideas about the nature of the child that are composed of the experiences we have formed, depending on how the child appears to us with its physical body. We could not make a greater mistake than to carry such an idea into the spiritual world in order to truly recognize the being in question once it has passed through the gates of death.We ourselves have recently gone through a very moving karmic event: that of Theo Faiss. We would be wrong to imagine him if we simply extended the ideas we had formed of the child based on how he appeared to us in the physical world and projected these ideas into the spiritual world. It is precisely in such a being that we can sometimes find the greatest maturity soon after death. We can find interwoven the forces that the child brought into the physical world through birth and that did not live out their full potential in the physical world because karma did not allow it. We can find them interwoven with the cosmic forces, and we can gradually perceive how a mature soul, which has struggled through death to cosmic existence, gradually grows toward a sphere of existence. And if such a soul was a child in its last incarnation, we can perceive how it grows relatively quickly to direct that which fits into the cosmos in terms of forces. Then we get to know the human being after death, as if he were directing with his own being the forces that are in his death spectrum and that are woven into the cosmos. In this way, the human being grows into that creation that can be called the heavenly creation. Then his will-like feeling, his emotional impulse of will, grows together with the world outside. Just as we gradually adapt our sense organs to the outer world as children in our physical bodies, just as we grow into seeing, so after death we grow into being, into the essential; we grow into the unfolding of the will.
And when we allow such phenomena to affect us in a truly spiritual scientific sense, we gradually realize how the Maya of outer life is woven with varying degrees of intensity in different places. It is difficult to penetrate in places such as the death of a very young child, because most of what was external appearance disturbs what must take its place in order for us to form a correct idea of what the human being is after death.
But there are also people in whom the fabric of Maya is relatively easy to penetrate, because the truth of their being has been able to deeply integrate itself into what lives as Maya here in the physical world between birth and death. Such people also exist, people who carry beautiful treasures of spiritual inner wealth down into the physical world at birth and who are able to weave into their nature what they have brought down from the spiritual world. These are the human beings whom we must love infinitely for what the creators have made of them in their love, and whom we often do not ask why we love them, but rather whose love for us seems self-evident. Such beings are, as it were, living witnesses of the spiritual world, because they already look extraordinarily similar to their spiritual beings here in the physical world, and because the fabric of Maya can be unraveled, albeit only through love, but through this quite quickly, so that one can then look into the depths of the soul.
A certain tenderness, an intimate tenderness, is required when dealing with such people, because they carry so much of the spiritual world down into physical existence, and because after death they stand there, as it were, as living witnesses to the infinitely profound fact that in all revelations here in this world, the impulses of the spiritual world also live on. When we see such people after death, they appear to us as if they wanted to say: This is how we were before, and that we were like this in our deepest, deepest inner truth, which is now confirmed since we have passed through the gate of death. — So they stand there like apostles of faith even after death, like apostles for the faith that allows us to believe in the life we spend here in the physical world.
There also stands our departed friend Sibyl Colazza, standing there like an apostle for the belief that the world in which we live is permeated with spirituality. And we have to explain why it was precisely in her case that the peculiar thing happened, that in the sight of her spiritual being, what she had already lived out in the physical world through “the shell of her outer life” for everyone who got to know and love her had to be confirmed. Hence the different tone in the words that had to come from her soul, because the individual lay precisely in what I have just spoken of:
And it animated this being
Your voice, which was eloquent
More through the nature of the wordThan in the word itself
Revealed what was hidden In your beautiful soul;
Notice that the description of the past, of the imperfect, passes into the present, the present tense, because the view of life in the body merged with the view of life after death. This is expressed in the words themselves. Thus, the word that must be coined from the spiritual world flows as necessary. So that it must be said: your voice, which eloquently revealed through the nature of the word more than in the word itself what is hidden in your soul, “is,” not “was,” but “is,” continues to have an effect, there is.
But the devoted love
Of compassionate people
Revealed itself fully without words:
- one can also say “revealed” —
This being, which announced itself with noble, quiet beauty
Of the creation of the world and the soul
Through receptive sensitivity.
- one could also say “proclaimed” —. The two times flow together there.
Now let us take a soul like that of our friend Fritz Mitscher, who died so young to our sorrow, a soul that revealed itself to those who knew it in such a way that its essence can be expressed in the most beautiful sense of the word, if one coins a word that may sound abstract and dry, but which can truly express this essence: the word “objective human being.” Fritz Mitscher was a completely objective person. There were hardly any moments when Fritz Mitscher would have talked about himself. Even when he did talk about himself, it was only superficial. It was just that he characterized his relationships with this or that person in the outside world. His ego was almost nowhere to be found; I can't say that it was the center of attention, it wasn't even on the horizon of attention. And it was characteristic of him that – as is natural when an older man talks to a younger man about all kinds of life advice – that one brings the conversation around to him—that when he was supposed to talk about himself, he would in a certain way slip away and divert the conversation to what he was experiencing around him, characterizing it with the art he had already acquired, which he had gained from the humanities. He was therefore an objective person, a person of objectivity. He did not think about what he meant to the world, he did not think about how his ego fit into the world. In the most eminent sense, he had only factual interests everywhere, those factual interests that express themselves so characteristically when one is not at all concerned with the way such factual interests fit into the world.
Fritz Mitscher was one of those people who, from an early age, applied the same zeal to developing the deepest truths for anyone in passing conversation with the utmost objectivity; he was one of those people who always apply the same zeal because they are interested in the cause and not in the person and in projecting their own personality into the world. And when he spoke in front of an audience, it was the purest, most chaste immersion in the subject matter, never losing himself in the spiritual impurity of talking about himself. That was so characteristic of him. And that also enabled him to such an eminent degree to truly perceive the world in such a way that one enters the world through the medium of ideas, thoughts, and imagination, not leaving it, but entering it. He therefore lived himself ever more deeply into the world's connections through thought, through ideas, through imagination: in this way he lived together with the world, lived with his ego — because he spoke so little of it — just as he lived within things and not only within his own skin.
Such people are, in essence, the only ones who truly understand what ideals are in the world, what life in ideas and ideals is. Living in ideas and ideals is not merely having ideas and ideals—one can have those; they are as easy to pick in life as blackberries—but it is not merely a matter of having ideas and ideals; it is a matter of having ideas and ideals in their intellectual purity, and so many people flee from that. People flee from thinking in droves. Oh, my dear friends, one need do nothing else than call imagination before one's soul, call real imagination before one's soul, the imagination of truly pure thinking, of life in pure thought, in thoughts and ideas free from sensuality, place this chaste source of soul existence before one, and then try to place the specters of human beings around it, and one will find: People are fleeing in droves from this chaste source of sensuality-free thoughts. Oh, it is something sober, dry, it is something that tears love from your heart, it is something cold, icy—they say, and they flee, flee in droves, and only a few, a few remain standing, in spiritual chastity. These are the true philosophical souls, these are the people who are truly gifted for philosophy. Among them are such natures as Fritz Mitscher was.
Therefore, it is relatively natural for such natures to grow into contexts, to grow into them in the most natural way; I must even say that they allow themselves to be carried into the contexts by their karma. This was precisely the case with Fritz Mitscher to the highest degree. Nowhere could one notice that he wanted to place himself in a certain position out of a deliberate intention, out of an intention formed in his physical body. Everywhere, he allowed himself to be led by the stream of karma to his tasks. This is again the true nature of philosophers, who must be guided toward tasks rather than pushing themselves toward this or that task out of selfish will. For such genuine philosophical natures know only too well in their deep inner feeling — and in their impulses — that one is never really ready for a task, and that one can only believe one is ready for a task if one is immeasurably vain, if one always anticipates something that one will only be able to achieve later. For it is only when one has this attitude that one feels something of what inner calling is in one's life. And then life becomes permeated in a certain way by the idea: Know thyself! After all, one learns to know oneself best when one speaks and thinks little about oneself. Then what you do and work for in life is permeated by the idea: Know yourself, live in peace with the world!
This was Fritz Mitscher's motto. Such a life then continues in the spiritual world and remains what it was, except that the seed becomes fruit in the spiritual world. We must then refrain from the unreal consideration of asking ourselves: What would have become of such a being if it had been able to remain longer in the physical world? That is an unreal consideration. The real consideration leads us precisely to the great and wonderful fact that such a soul is taken up into the spiritual worlds, and that what it is now called upon to accomplish in the spiritual worlds is to the life it lived here between birth and death as the fruit of the plant is to the seed, so that the life here is truly a seed life for the spiritual life after death.
Thus, when considering a nature that lives in objectivity after death, words must sink into the soul that characterize this objectivity of the view of life, but also the relationship to the surrounding world: standing within the world and standing within the essence of the world. It was therefore necessary to talk about Fritz Mitscher, whereby it is precisely this difference between the seed here and the plant that develops further there that stands out as characteristic. This is how I explain to myself why the words turned out the way they did:
A loss that pains us deeply,
So you disappear from the field,
Where the seeds of the spirit
In the womb of the soul
Matured to your sense of the spheres...A hope that made us happy:
Thus you entered the field,
Where the flowers of the spirit
Through the power of the soul
Wish to reveal themselves to the seeker.A pure love of truth
Was your original longing;
To create from the light of the spirit
Was the serious goal of your life,
Which you tirelessly pursued....A hope that makes us happy
Thus you entered the field,
Where the earth's spiritual blossoms
Through the power of the soul
Wish to reveal themselves to research.Hear the plea of our souls,
Sent to you in trust:
We need here for our earthly work
Strong power from the spiritual realm,
Which we thank our dead friends for.A hope that makes us happy
A loss that pains us deeply:
Let us hope that you, far away yet close,
Shine upon our lives, unlost,
As a soul star in the spiritual realm.
Thus Fritz Mitscher was able to embody the individuality that expressed what was real and true for many of our dead friends upon their entry into the spiritual world: They will become our most effective co-workers in the field of spiritual life that we have to cultivate; they will be those to whom we look up with special gratitude when we have to think of the tasks of present and future spiritual development, tasks that can only be realized with difficulty and slowly within our earthly existence with the forces that are incarnated in physical bodies. Thus, as our friends pass through the gate of death, it seems to me as if it were everywhere present to ask them, as well as our friend Christian Morgenstern, to remain with us so that through their powers much may be accomplished in our spiritual movement that cannot be accomplished with earthly powers alone.
This is precisely what we must say as a final farewell to such individuals, and it must be said clearly, especially in the case of our dear friend Fritz Mitscher, who, with his youthful energy, will be our strong helper in the way that has been characterized in recent days, who will be a true comfort where comfort is needed. It is often needed.
There are many things, especially in the last period of our work and creativity and our striving, that have made us realize how great the obstacles are, the obstacles that are really not imaginary obstacles of the physical plane, how strongly the prejudices of people oppose what we have to accomplish, and in what contradictory ways they often oppose us.
One need only take one example: People outside our spiritual scientific movement write brochures—what I am about to say is really not said for personal reasons, because I feel only a weak instrument of the spiritual movement that carries us—so people outside write brochures upon brochures about how everything our followers do is accepted without being examined, on good faith and trust, as if there were nothing in our circle but blind faith. That is how our movement is characterized outside: as if we were all just blindly faithful fools who only follow the trust they have. That is outside!
Within the walls, this trust sometimes does not look so brilliant if one attaches importance to the trust that exists in the depths of the soul and not merely in words, on the surface. So there is a great contradiction between what people accuse us of in their brochures and what should be present in such rich abundance within the walls of our society. It is a glaring contradiction. For if it really could have happened without criticism and, above all, without bitterness — I say this without wanting to attack anyone personally in the slightest — if it could have happened that, in consideration of many things I said here in the fall, it could have been written: Dr. Steiner wastes his occult research on such matters — and by matters I mean what I spoke about at the time — he wastes his occult powers on things that were said at the time — if that could be written, then it is clear proof that the trust we have out there in the world, as prevailing only among us, even though it is often present in the upper layers of consciousness as Maya, is not so firmly rooted in the deeper soul forces.
Finally, what is presented here as teaching is not based on any authority and is never demanded to be believed as dogma. This is stated precisely with the intention that it be examined in all its details. But to set oneself up as judge over what I myself should extend my occult research to and what not, is a tyranny of the spirit which, in the most eminent sense, does not arise from what must naturally be present to a certain degree, not in order to take up spiritual science, but what must be present, I would say, for the sake of society. It is a tyranny of the mind that springs from a subconscious lack of trust. One does not need trust in order to accept teachings; but in order not to dictate to the spiritual researcher what he is to take from the spiritual world, but rather to assume that the representative of spiritual science himself knows what he has to do and must decide for himself what falls within the realm of his research, this requires a trust that can never be detrimental to the movement in any way, because it does not go beyond the personal sphere and does not touch upon the teachings. But it is a fact — as many similar facts show — that great obstacles and difficulties already exist, and that it is already necessary for us to go further and further, far from anything that resembles a desire to act, and to do within our spiritual movement what arises from insight into inner necessity as a duty. This duty will always be done, however unpleasant it may be, according to the usual understanding of the word “unpleasant.”
But precisely when we see that we can give such dear departed ones something like a personal commission to be with us through their powers, to work together with our powers, then a feeling of security arises for our movement that the physical world could never give.
And so something supersensible flows into our movement, into the memory of our dear departed, into the impulses themselves, something that does not arise merely from what we sometimes experience here to inspire our work in the physical world. The possibility arises, so to speak, that supersensible impulses flow into the Maya of our social activity, that we know ourselves to be secure, because what we do is not merely what takes place outwardly on the physical plane, but in this concrete sense there is also that which is supersensible, that which has remained with us, even if not in physical being, our dear departed, so that we know ourselves to be secure in our work, which is felt within the stream of spiritual becoming.
Hear the plea of our souls,
Sent to you in trust:
We need here for our earthly work
Strong power from the spiritual realm,
Which we thank our dead friends for.
Thus we speak in reality of our dear departed as our companions, our comrades, our co-workers, as those whose beings reign invisibly among us. In this way we grasp concretely the invisible being, shake hands physically with our friend one last time in the visible world, and then receive this hand spiritually, after death, from the supersensible world. And in this exchange of handshakes, we see the symbol of working within a society that is not only meant to speak for the physical world, but also to call upon the supersensible worlds to be effective. We want to build a place for such work here on this hill. May there be a place for such work here!