Karmic Relationships VII
GA 239
7 June 1924, Breslau
Lecture I
It is by pointing to all-embracing secrets of cosmic existence that anthroposophical wisdom penetrates most deeply into the foundations of human life, for man is the microcosm in which all these secrets of the Universe are concentrated. The illumination coming from this vista of the Cosmos extends not only into the days but into the very hours of man's life in that it sheds light upon his karma, upon all the things that at every moment closely concern him. And so in these lectures I shall speak from many different angles of the anthroposophical basis of those ideas and conceptions which enable karma in human life to be more clearly recognised.
In man's earthly life between birth and death, two events or moments stand out clearly and distinctly from all others. One of them—it is not, of course, a ‘moment’ in the literal sense but you will understand what is meant—is the moment when as a being of spirit-and-soul, man comes down to earthly life, into a physical body which serves as an instrument for his activity on Earth. Not only does he clothe himself in this physical body but in it transforms his whole nature in order to become active on Earth. This is the moment, the event, of birth and conception—the beginning of earthly life. The other event is that of man's departure from earthly life, when he returns through the gate of death into the spiritual world.
Thinking, to begin with, of this latter event, we know that during the first hours and days after a man's death, the physical form remains preserved to a certain extent. But the question arises: How is this physical human form related to Nature, to the existence surrounding us in earthly life in the several kingdoms of Nature? Is the relation of these kingdoms of Nature, of external Nature as a whole to these remains of the human being such that they would be capable of preserving the structure intact? No, it is not. Nature is able only to destroy the physical form that has been built up since man's entry into earthly life; at death, the form which man regards as that of his earthly existence begins to disintegrate. Anyone who thinks deeply enough about this very obvious truth will realise that in the physical human form itself lies the refutation of the materialistic view. If the materialistic view were correct, it would have to be said that the human form is built up by Nature. But it is not so! Nature cannot build the human form, but only destroy it. This thought makes a very potent impression but one that is often quite wrongly formulated. It remains in the unconscious region of the soul, making itself strongly felt in everything we experience concerning the riddle of death. Now the express aim of Anthroposophy is to bring these riddles which life itself presents to any impartial mind, to the degree of solution necessary for the right conduct of life. Hence Anthroposophy must at the outset direct attention to the event of death.
On the other side there is the event of birth. Impartial self-observation is essential here if a picture comparable to that of death is to be obtained. This self-observation must be deeply concerned with the nature of human thinking. Thinking can be applied to everything that goes on in the physical world. We form our thoughts of what goes on in the world. If we did not do so we could not be men in the true sense for the power to form thoughts distinguishes us from all other beings around us in the realm of the Earth. But impartial observation of our thoughts makes them appear widely removed from the reality of existence around us. When we are engrossed in thought we become inwardly abstract, inwardly cold, in comparison with what we are in heart and soul when we surrender ourselves to life. No impartial mind will ever doubt that thoughts, as such, have a cold, abstract, arid quality. But clear insight into the life of thought should be one of the first meditative experiences of an anthroposophist. In contemplating this life of thought he will discern in it something very similar to the spectacle presented by a corpse. What is characteristic of the sight of a human corpse? As it lies there before us, we say to ourselves: A human soul and a human spirit once lived in this structure and have now departed from it. A corpse lies there as a husk of the soul and the spirit. But at the same time it provides us with proof that the world external to man could never have produced this particular structure, that it could have proceeded only from the soul and spirit, from the innermost core of man's nature, that it is the residue of something now no longer present. In its very form a corpse discloses that it is no truth in itself but only a remains of truth, having meaning only when soul and spirit are within it. In the form that remains a great deal has been lost but a corpse nevertheless shows that it was once the dwelling-place of soul and spirit.
If the eye of the soul is directed to the life of thought, this too, although from a rather different standpoint, will appear to have something corpse-like about it. Impartial observation of our own thinking reveals that in itself it can no more have real existence than the human form can have real existence in a corpse. In apprehending external Nature, there is as little intrinsic reality in human thinking as there is in a corpse. External Nature can certainly be apprehended by thoughts but can never herself produce them. For if Nature in herself were capable of producing thoughts there could be no such thing as logic which perceives, independently of all laws of Nature, what is sound or false in thinking. When we discern what a thought in the earthly world really is, it must appear to us as a corpse of the soul, just as what remains at the death of a human being appears as a physical corpse. The form of a corpse is comprehensible only when we see it as the remains left behind at death by a living man.—Imagine for a moment that there were on the Earth only a single human being, and that at his death a being belonging to the planet Mars were to come down and look at his corpse. It would be utterly incomprehensible to such a being. Were he to study all the forms in the mineral, plant and animal kingdoms he would find no explanation of how the form lying there dead could have come into existence. For this form is not only a contradiction in itself, it is a manifest contradiction of the whole extra-human, earthly world. Its very existence betrays that it has been abandoned by something; for by itself it could not exist.
So it is with our thoughts. If external Nature alone were responsible for producing them, they could never be as they are: they are a corpse of the soul, comparable with a physical corpse. The very existence of a corpse is evidence that something has died. What is it that has died in the case of thoughts? It is the kind of thinking that was ours before we came down into the earthly world. Abstract thinking is the corpse of what was once living thinking. The thinking of a soul as yet without a body is related to the form which thinking assumes in earthly existence as the human soul and spirit are related to the corpse. And we men in the physical body are the grave in which the pre-earthly, living life of the soul has been entombed. The thoughts were once alive in the soul; the soul has died to the spiritual world. We bear within us not the living thoughts but the corpse of the thoughts.
This is the picture presented by the spectacle of birth—the side of earthly life opposite to that of death. We speak more correctly than is usual in our time when we say: the spiritual in man dies through birth, the physical part of man dies through death.
If we find the approach to Anthroposophy through pondering on the phenomenon of death and so realising that our thinking is a corpse compared with pre-earthly thinking, our vista of man and of life on the Earth widens and we prepare in the right way to receive the teachings and the wisdom of Anthroposophy. The reason why it is so difficult for men to find the natural path to Anthroposophy is their erroneous conception of what is still present—although as a corpse—in earthly existence. To-day they place too high a value upon thinking but do not know what it really is: they know it only in its corpse-like character.
When we guide our thoughts in the direction I have been trying to indicate, the two sides of the eternal life of the human soul are brought into strong relief. In modern parlance there is only one word—a word fundamentally the offspring of human hopes—for the half of Eternity that begins now and has no end. We have only the word ‘Immortality,’ because the question of what happens after death is of foremost importance to the men of our time. All their interests in life are bound up with knowing what happens after death. But there were epochs in the evolution of humanity when something else was of importance too. With his more egoistic thinking to-day a man says: ‘What comes after death interests me because I should like to know whether my life will continue thereafter; what preceded birth or conception does not interest me.’ He does not think about pre-earthly life as he does about the life after death. But the Eternity of the human soul has these two sides: Immortality and ‘Unborn-ness.’ Earlier Mystery-languages of men who under the conditions prevailing in their day still had vision of the super-sensible world, had a word also for ‘Unborn-ness,’ whereas we can formulate one only with difficulty, by deliberately turning our minds to these matters. Thereby we are also led to realise the essential difference between the laws of Nature and the laws governing human, destiny.
Our human destiny seems, to begin with, to depend upon chance. Acting upon some urge or impulse, we achieve one thing or another and have to admit, in respect of ordinary life, that in innumerable cases the destiny of many a really good man brings him hard, painful and tragic experiences, whereas it will often happen that to one whose aims are far from good, life brings no hard but actually happy experiences.
With our ordinary, everyday consciousness we do not perceive the connection between what proceeds from our own soul and the destiny that befalls us. We see that the good may be followed by heavy blows of fate and that evil is not necessarily followed by anything except relatively favourable destiny. In the happenings of Nature we perceive how under the sway of necessity, effects follow causes, but in respect of the spiritual reality in which our normal life is contained this sway of necessity is not in evidence. Nevertheless an impartial survey of our life impels us to say: we ourselves have sought the stream of our destiny.
Let a man who has reached a certain age in this incarnation observe his earlier life quite objectively and impartially. He is, let us say, fifty years of age, and he surveys the course of the years back to childhood. He will then perceive how, following some inner urge, he himself made the approach to everything that befell him. It is not always a pleasant experience. But as he follows the events of his life backwards, he will be obliged to admit in respect of those that were really decisive that he made straight for those events in time, just as he may make straight for some point in space. The stream of destiny issues from ourselves. And so it is understandable when men such as Goethe's elderly friend Knebel say that observation of human life clearly reveals a plan running through it from beginning to end. True, this plan is not always such that in looking back over it a man will always insist that he would act in the same way again. But when he closely observes the details of his actions and their consequences, he will always perceive that an inner urge led from the earlier to the later. Thus are the various events in our lives explained. And this enables us to perceive that the law taking effect through our moral life of soul is entirely different from the law taking effect in the life of Nature. All this helps to create the attitude which should be adopted towards the spiritual investigator who from his vision of the spiritual world is as well able to describe the laws governing the forming of destiny as the naturalist is able to describe the laws of Nature. And to understand the working of spiritual law in the Universe is the task of Anthroposophy in our present age.
You will remember that in the book Occult Science: An Outline and elsewhere too, I have said that the Moon shining down upon us from the heavens was once united with the Earth, that at a certain point of time the physical Moon separated from the Earth and in a future age will again unite with it. Now it was not only the physical Moon that separated but with it went certain Beings who were on Earth when the physical Moon and the Earth were still one body. When we think of the spiritual treasures that have been contained in the evolution of humanity we shall be led inevitably to the conclusion that although in our present age men are exceedingly clever—and nearly all of them are—yet they are not truly wise. Treasures of wisdom, expressed not in an intellectual but in a more poetic, pictorial form, existed at the beginning of man's evolution on Earth, scattered through mankind by great Teachers, primeval Teachers who lived among men on Earth. These primeval Teachers were not incarnated in physical bodies, but only in etheric bodies and relations with them were different from relations between physical human beings. These Teachers moved about the Earth in etheric bodies and a man whose guide and leader they became felt in his soul their nearness to him. He felt something like an inspiration streaming into his soul; it was like an inner flashing up of truths, of visions too—for the teachings were imparted in a spiritual way. In that epoch of Earth evolution, beings were really of two categories: the visible and, for physical eyes, the invisible. Men did not clamour for sight of those beings who were not visible for they were able to receive their teachings without seeing them. Men heard the teachings rising up from within their souls and said to themselves: ‘One of the great primeval Teachers of humanity has now drawn near to me.’ No attempt was made to form any external pictures of these great Teachers. Men encountered them in spiritual experiences, they did not stretch out physical hands towards these Teachers, but encountered them nevertheless and felt something that was like a spiritual grasp of the hand.
It was these primeval Teachers who imparted to mankind the great treasures of wisdom of which only echoes have survived, even in creations such as the Vedas and the Vedanta philosophy. Even these great teachings of the East are no more than echoes. A primeval wisdom once spread among humanity on the Earth and then perished, in order that out of themselves, by their own volition, men might again be able to scale the heights to the spiritual world. Human freedom would not have been possible if the primeval Teachers had remained among men. Hence a comparatively short time after the Moon had separated from the Earth they followed in its wake, establishing their abode upon it. And there they have dwelt, supreme among the denizens of this Moon colony, ever since they separated from the Earth, leaving human beings to their own resources. Although we who pass from one earthly life to another no longer meet these great Teachers on Earth, we do so very shortly after passing through the gate of death. When the physical body has been laid aside at death, our etheric body expands and expands, but also becomes evanescent, and finally dissolves in the Universe. As soon as the etheric body has been laid aside a few days after death, we feel that our existence is no longer on the Earth but in the immediate environment of the Earth. When a few days have passed after death we feel that we are no longer living on the Earth; it is as though this terrestrial body has expanded as far as the sphere encircled by the orbit of the Moon. We feel that we are living on a magnified Earth; the Moon is no longer felt to be a separate body, but the whole sphere is felt as a unity, demarcated by the Moon's orbit; the Earth has expanded to become the Moon sphere, and has become spiritual. We are within the Moon sphere and there we remain for a considerable time after death. But to begin with we come together again with those spiritual Beings who at the beginning of man's existence on Earth were the great primeval Teachers. They are the first Beings whom we encounter in the Cosmos after our death; we eventually come again into their realm and there undergo a remarkable experience.
It might seem easy to picture existence after death—I shall still have to speak of its duration—as being shadowy in comparison with the life on Earth which gives the impression of being so robust. We can take hold of the things of earthly life; they, like physical men, are solid, compact; we say that something is real when we can actually take hold of it. But after death this robust earthly life seems like a dream, for entry into the Moon sphere brings us into an existence where everything seems to be much more real, much more saturated with reality than can ever be the case on Earth. This is because the great primeval Teachers of humanity who continue their existence in the Moon sphere permeate us with their own being, and enable everything to appear to us with greater reality than that which, as men of the Earth, we experience in the things of the world. And what is it that we experience in the Moon sphere?
Our experience of earthly life is, after all, fragmentary. Looking back over earthly life with ordinary consciousness, it appears to us as a single, continuous stream. But what has it been in reality? A day that has already become shadowy was followed by a night of which ordinary consciousness has no remembrance. Another day is followed by another night—and so it goes on. In memory we string together only the days but in a true retrospect the days must always be interrupted by what we have experienced during the nights. Ordinary consciousness fails here, and with a certain justification, because it is extinguished in sleep. When we are among these Moon Beings who were once the primeval Teachers of humanity, we live through precisely what we experienced during the nights here on the Earth. The length of time this form of existence in the Moon sphere lasts can therefore be computed. If a man is not an abnormally long sleeper he spends about one third of the duration of his earthly life in sleep. And life in the Moon sphere lasts for just so long, that is to say, for about one third of the duration of the life on Earth. A man who reaches the age of twenty spends about seven years in the Moon sphere; one who reaches the age of sixty, about twenty years, and so on. We live among these Beings and they permeate us with their form of existence.
But in order to understand life in this sphere we must think of what a man becomes when the physical body is laid aside. This is within the ken of an Initiate, and also of the dead. The moment a man has left the physical body behind at death, he is within the world that is outside that body. If as I stand here I were to go out of my body, I should first of all be within this table here, and then more and more deeply within everything around me in the world—only not inside my own skin. What was hitherto my inner world now becomes my outer world, and everything that was formerly my outer world becomes my inner world. My moral life too, becomes outer world. Suppose that I once gave another person a box on the ear in anger and my action made a grave moral impression upon him. Now I live backwards over my life to its fortieth year when I injured him in this way; in my life I may have laughed about the incident, but now I experience, not what I experienced at the time, but his physical pain, his moral suffering. With my whole being I am within him. In reality it was the same every night during sleep, but then it remained below the level of consciousness; it was a picture only, not an actual experience. After death, when we are permeated with the substance of the great primeval Teachers in the Moon sphere, the experience is infinitely more intense than it was on Earth. What on Earth is like a dream, is in yonder world a far stronger reality—and this is what we experience. This same intense reality is experienced, too, by one who with clairvoyant consciousness is able to follow a human being on his way after death and, through the attainment of Inspiration and super-sensible vision, to live with him as a real presence. Then we realise that the experiences through which men pass after death have far greater intensity and reality than the experiences undergone before death. And to experience what a human being is undergoing in his existence after death makes an incomparably stronger impression than earthly influences can ever make. To give you an example.—
Some of you will certainly be familiar with the figure of Strader in my Mystery Plays. The figure of Strader is drawn more or less from real life; such a personality existed and interested me profoundly. I followed the external life of this personality who is portrayed, with certain poetic modifications, in the figure of Strader. You know that I have written four Mystery Plays, in the last of which Strader dies. In 1913, when this fourth play was written, I could do no otherwise than let Strader die. And why? As long as the prototype of Strader was living in the physical world, my attention had been focused upon that prototype. But in the meantime this prototype had died. The whole man interested me so deeply that I continued to follow him, and the impressions coming from his life after death were so strong that they completely extinguished all interest in what he had been in his life on Earth. Not that the sympathy had waned, but it was simply not adequate after one had followed what he was experiencing after his physical death. In order to give these tremendously strong impressions some kind of poetic form, I was obliged to let Strader die, because his prototype had passed into the after-death existence—and the impressions coming from that were infinitely stronger than those of his earlier life on Earth.
This had practical consequences. One or two friends guessed who Strader's prototype had been in real life and with a certain noble devotedness set about investigating his literary estate. When with great delight they brought their findings to me, I was obliged, involuntarily, to be rather discourteous, because these findings did not interest me in the slightest. The strength of the impressions of the life after death effaced any interest in relics of the earthly life brought me by friends. And so indeed it is. These impressions, which are due to the fact that the Moon Beings imbue their very substance into man, drown everything that can be experienced in earthly life and infuse reality into existence. Hence, too, the compensatory deed is fraught with greater reality, since it results from experience of what a particular action signified to the one against whom it was directed. And our experience of what the other suffered is stronger than that caused in us by our own action.
Out of the experiences we undergo after death in the realm of the great primeval Teachers of humanity, the first seed of karma is formed. For there we resolve to make compensation for what we have done. Resolves, intentions, here take actual effect. On Earth the good does not always seem to be followed by good, nor evil by evil. But the resolves taken in a world of far greater reality than the earthly world, the experience that we ourselves must make compensation for what we have done—these resolves will lead in the later life to actual adjustment.
It is my intention to describe to you how karma gradually takes shape for a new life when, having lived through the time between death and rebirth, a man appears again in another incarnation. During the first period after death, through our communion with the Moon Beings, we form the resolve to fulfil our karma. I shall therefore try to give you a concrete picture of the stages by which in the life between death and a new birth, man's karma is formulated.
Achter Vortrag
Am allertiefsten greift ja die anthroposophische Weisheit dadurch in das Menschenleben ein, daß sie hinweist auf die umfassendsten kosmischen Geheimnisse, auf die Geheimnisse der ganzen Welt, die ja in der Wesenheit des Menschen eigentlich wiederum mikrokosmisch vereinigt sind. Aber in alledem, was uns auf diese Weise aus dem Kosmos heraus klar werden kann, lichtvoll werden kann, lebt etwas, das nicht nur ins Tägliche, sondern bis ins Stündliche des Menschenlebens hineinleuchtet, was dadurch, daß es dieses Menschenleben in bezug auf sein Schicksal, sein Karma behandelt, hineinleuchtet in dasjenige, was dem Menschenherzen unmittelbar naheliegt, ihm ja, wie gesagt, stündlich naheliegt. Und so möchte ich denn, von den verschiedensten Gesichtspunkten ausgehend, in diesen Tagen zu Ihnen namentlich sprechen über die anthroposophische Begründung derjenigen Ideen, derjenigen Geistesbilder, die uns das Karma des Menschen nahebringen können.
Wir wissen ja, daß in das Menschenleben, wie es abläuft zwischen Geburt und Tod, sozusagen zwei Augenblicke hineinspielen, die sich von allen anderen Augenblicken dieses irdischen Menschenlebens wesentlich unterscheiden. Das ist der Augenblick - es ist natürlich im wörtlichen Sinne kein Augenblick, aber Sie werden es verstehen -, in welchem der Mensch als geistig-seelisches Wesen heruntersteigt ins irdische Leben, annimmt einen physischen Leib als Werkzeug seines Wirkens im Irdischen, sich nicht nur umkleidet mit diesem physischen Leibe, sondern sich sozusagen in diesen physischen Leib verwandelt, um auf der Erde wirken zu können: der Anfang des irdischen Lebens, Geburt und Empfängnis. Der andere Augenblick ist der, in dem der Mensch aus dem irdischen Leben herausgeht, indem er durch die Pforte des Todes in die geistige Welt zurückkehrt.
Wenn wir an den letzteren Augenblick uns zunächst halten, so sehen wir ja, wie in den ersten Tagen nach dem Tode die physische Menschenform bis zu einem gewissen Grade erhalten bleibt. Wir fragen uns aber: Wie verhält sich dasjenige, was da als physische Menschenform erhalten bleibt, zur Natur, zu demjenigen Dasein, das uns im Erdenleben in den verschiedenen Reichen der Natur umgibt? Sind diese Reiche der Natur, ist die ganze äußere Natur imstande, sich so zu dem Überreste der menschlichen Wesenheit zu verhalten, daß sie diesen Überrest in seiner Bildung aufrechterhalten kann? Nein, dazu ist die Natur nicht imstande. Die Natur ist einzig und allein in der Lage, dasjenige, was als menschlich-physisches Gebilde aufgebaut ist seit dem Hineintreten in das physische Erdenleben, zu zerstören, und mit dem Tode beginnt die Auflösung der Form, die der Mensch als seine Erdenform betrachtet. Wer diese ja ganz offensichtliche Wahrheit nur tief genug auf seine Seele wirken läßt, dem geht auf, wie einfach schon in der physischen Menschenform der Gegenbeweis gegen alles Materielle liegt. Denn wäre das Materielle richtig, so müßte man sagen können, die Natur baue die menschliche Form auf. Man kann es nicht sagen, denn die Natur kann die menschliche Form nur zerstören, nicht aufbauen. Und es kann von diesem Gedanken ein mächtiger Eindruck ausströmen. Er strömt auch aus, er wird nur sehr häufig nicht in die richtige Gedankenform gebracht. Er lebt im Unbewußten der menschlichen Seele, er lebt in allem, was wir beim Todesrätsel empfinden. Da aber lebt er doch ein energisches Dasein. Und Anthroposophie will ja nichts anderes, als solche Rätsel, die dem unbefangenen Menschensinn an dem Leben aufgehen, bis zu jenem Grade der Lösung bringen, der “ eben wiederum zur richtigen Führung des Lebens notwendig ist. Und so muß sie zunächst einfach den unbefangenen Menschengeist hinweisen auf dasjenige, was der Moment des Todes ist.
Auf der anderen Seite kann sie hinweisen auf den Moment der Geburt. Aber über diesen Moment der Geburt kann man eigentlich nur eine der Todesvorstellung entsprechende Vorstellung gewinnen, wenn man sich ein wenig einläßt auf eine unbefangene Selbstbeobachtung. Diese Selbstbeobachtung muß auf das menschliche Denken gehen. Das menschliche Denken, es verbreitet sich über alles dasjenige, was in der physisch-sinnlichen Erdenwelt geschieht. Wir machen uns über das, was so in der Welt vorgeht, unsere Gedanken. Wir könnten gar nicht Menschen sein, wenn wir uns nicht diese Gedanken machten; denn durch die Bildung dieser Gedanken unterscheiden wir uns von allen anderen Wesenheiten, die uns in dem irdischen Bereiche umgeben. Aber wenn wir unsere Gedanken in unbefangener Selbstbeobachtung erfassen, dann erscheinen sie uns ja wirklich recht weit entfernt von alledem, was uns sonst als Wirkliches umgibt. Man stelle sich nur in der richtigen Art vor, wie innerlich-abstrakt und kalt wir werden, wenn wir uns dem Denken hingeben, gegenüber der Art, wie wir sind, wenn wir uns mit unserer Seele dem Leben hingeben. Darüber sollte gar kein Zweifel sein vor dem unbefangenen Gemüte, daß Gedanken als solche zunächst etwas Kaltes, Abstraktes, etwas Nüchternes, Trockenes haben. Aber es sollte zu dem ersten meditativen Erleben des Anthroposophen gehören, in der richtigen Art gerade unser Gedankenleben anzuschauen. Dann wird ihm an diesem Gedankenleben etwas aufgehen, was ihm sehr ähnlich erscheinen kann wie der Anblick, den wir gegenüber einem Leichnam haben. Was ist denn charakteristisch für den Anblick eines Leichnams? Da liegt er vor uns, dieser Leichnam. Wir sagen uns: In diesem Gebilde hat eine menschliche Seele, ein menschlicher Geist gelebt; diese menschliche Seele, dieser Geist sind fort. Wie eine Schale der Seele und des Geistes liegt das da, was ein menschlicher Leichnam ist, aber uns zugleich den Beweis liefernd, daß alles, was außermenschliche Welt ist, dieses Gebilde niemals hätte hervorbringen können, daß dieses Gebilde nur aus der innersten, geistbeseelten Menschennatur selber hervorgehen konnte, daß es ein Überrest ist von etwas, das nicht mehr ist. Die Form selber zeigt uns: Der Leichnam ist ja keine Wahrheit, er ist nur ein Rest von einer Wahrheit, er hat nur einen Sinn, wenn Seele und Geist darin leben. Jetzt in der übriggebliebenen Form hat er eben vieles verloren, aber so wie er ist, zeigt er gerade, daß Seele und Geist in ihm gewohnt haben.
Dann können wir unseren seelischen Blick auf das Denkleben richten. Es wird uns - zwar von einem etwas anderen Gesichtspunkte aus — auch so erscheinen, als ob es etwas Leichnamhaftes wäre. Das menschliche Denken, wenn wir es unbefangen in uns selber anschauen, kann eigentlich ebensowenig dutch sich selber bestehen, wie die menschliche Form im Leichnam. Die hat keinen Sinn, und der menschliche Gedanke, wie er die äußere Natur auffaßt, hat gar keinen Sinn, ebensowenig wie ein Leichnam. Denn die äußere Natur ist ja immer etwas, was von den Gedanken wohl erfaßt werden kann, aber niemals den Gedanken hervorbringen kann. Es könnte ja sonst keine Logik geben, die unabhängig von allen Naturgesetzen sieht, was denkerisch richtig und falsch ist. Wenn wir den Gedanken hier in der irdischen Welt auffassen und ihn richtig durchschauen, muß er uns als ein Leichnam, als ein seelischer Leichnam erscheinen, wie das als ein physischer Leichnam erscheint, was vom Menschen übrigbleibt, wenn der Mensch durch die Pforte des Todes gegangen ist. Wir verstehen die Form des Menschen nur, wenn wir sie anschauen als einen Rest dessen, was ein belebter Mensch übriggelassen hat im Tode. Denken Sie sich einmal, es gäbe nur einen einzigen Menschen auf der Erde und der wäre gestorben, und ein Marsbewohner käme herunter und schaute sich diesen Leichnam an: er würde ihn gar nicht verstehen. Er könnte alle Formen im Mineralischen, Pflanzlichen, Tierischen studieren und würde doch nicht begreifen, wie diese Form, die da tot liegt, zustande kommen konnte. Denn sie widerspricht sich selbst, und sie widerspricht der ganzen außermenschlichen, irdischen Welt. Sie verrät in sich selber, daß sie von etwas verlassen worden ist, denn sie könnte nicht so sein, wie sie ist, wenn sie nur immer so sich selbst überlassen gewesen wäre.
Geradeso ist es mit unseren Gedanken. Die könnten gar nicht so sein wie sie sind, wenn sie nur durch die äußere Natur da wären. Sie sind ein Seelenleichnam, dem physischen Leichnam zu vergleichen. Wenn ein Leichnam da ist, muß etwas gestorben sein. Was ist gestorben? Gestorben ist diejenige Form des Denkens, die wir gehabt haben, bevor wir heruntergestiegen sind in die irdische Welt. Da lebte das, was im abstrakten Gedanken tot ist. Es verhält sich das Denken der Seele, die noch keinen Körper hatte, zu dem Gedanken, wie wir ihn nun haben, so, wie sich der beseelte und durchgeistigte Mensch zum Leichnam verhält. Und wir Menschen im physischen Leibe sind das Grab, in dem begraben worden ist das lebendige Seelenleben des vorirdischen Daseins. Der Gedanke war in der Seele lebendig. Die Seele ist für die geistige Welt gestorben. Wir tragen nicht den lebendigen Gedanken, wir tragen den Gedankenleichnam in uns.
Das ist es, was sich ergibt, wenn wir an die andere Seite des irdischen Lebens gehen, die entgegengesetzt liegt der Seite des Todes, wenn wir nach der Geburt hin gehen. Wir sagen uns: In einer gewissen Weise stirbt das Geistige im Menschen durch die Geburt; das Physische am Menschen stirbt durch den Tod. - Dann sprechen wir richtiger über diese Tatsachen, als gewöhnlich gesprochen wird in unserer Zeit.
Wenn wir zuerst die Eingangspforte in die Anthroposophie suchen durch ein gemütvolles Hinlenken der Seele zu dem Tode und uns so begreiflich machen, wie das Denken ein Leichnam ist gegenüber dem vorirdischen Denken, dann weitet sich uns der Blick auf den Menschen über das Erdenleben hinaus, und wir bereiten uns erst dadurch vor, die anthroposophische Lehre, die anthroposophische Weisheit aufzunehmen. Nur weil man nicht in der richtigen Weise auf dasjenige sieht, was im Erdenleben zwar noch da ist, wenn auch als Leichnam - aber dazu ist das Erdenleben die Stelle -, deshalb findet man so schwer den naturgemäßen Weg zur Anthroposophie. Heute überschätzt man das Denken, aber man kennt es eigentlich nicht; man kennt es nur in seiner seelen-leichnamhaften Beschaffenheit.
Nun, wenn man so die Gedanken lenkt, wie ich sie versuchte vor Ihnen zu lenken, dann wird man ja stark auf die zwei Seiten des ewigen Lebens der menschlichen Seele gewiesen. Wir haben ja, im Grunde aus den menschlichen Hoffnungen heraus, nur ein Wort in den modernen Sprachen für die halbe Ewigkeit, die jetzt beginnt und nicht aufhört. Wir haben nur das Wort «Unsterblichkeit», weil den Menschen unseres Zeitalters vorzugsweise interessiert, was nach dem Tode geschieht. Er ist jetzt da, und es hängt mit allen seinen Lebensinteressen zusammen, zu wissen, was nach dem Tode geschieht. Aber es gab Zeiten in der Menschheitsentwickelung, da interessierte den Menschen noch ein anderes. Heute sagt sich der mehr egoistisch denkende Mensch: Das, was auf den Tod folgt, interessiert mich, denn ich möchte wissen, ob ich über den Tod hinaus lebe; das, was vor der Geburt war oder vor der Empfängnis, interessiert mich nicht. - Denn er ist da, der Mensch, also denkt er über das vorirdische Leben nicht ganz so nach wie über das nachtodliche. Aber zum Ewigen der Menschenseele gehören diese zwei Seiten: die Unsterblichkeit und die Ungeborenheit. Ältere, ursprüngliche Mysteriensprachen der Menschen, die noch, dem Zeitalter entsprechend, die übersinnliche Welt sahen, hatten auch für Ungeborenheit ein entsprechendes Wort. Wir müssen uns erst wiederum eines abringen dadurch, daß wir nach solchen Richtungen hin die Gedanken lenken. Dadurch aber werden wir auch zu der ganz andersartigen Gesetzmäßigkeit geführt als die Naturgesetzmäßigkeit ist, wie sie im Menschen besteht: zu dem menschlichen Schicksal.
Zunächst tritt uns ja dieses menschliche Schicksal nur so vor die Seele, daß es uns sozusagen wie zufällig trifft, daß es sich wie zufällig auslebt. Wir vollbringen dies und jenes aus diesem oder jenem Impulse heraus und müssen uns dem gewöhnlichen Leben gegenüber sagen: In unzähligen Fällen kommt es vor, daß dem Guten schwierige, leidvolle, tragische Lebenserfahrungen beschieden sind, wogegen demjenigen, der gar nicht gute Absichten hat, nicht schlimme, sondern gerade gute Lebenserfahrungen zuteil werden. Den Zusammenhang zwischen dem, was seelisch von uns ausgeht, und dem, was uns schicksalsmäßig trifft, diesen Zusammenhang sehen wir mit dem gewöhnlichen Bewußtsein im gewöhnlichen Leben bekanntlich nicht. Wir sehen, wie das Gute getroffen werden kann von den schlimmsten Schicksalsschlägen, das Böse nicht getroffen zu werden braucht von etwas anderem als oftmals von einem relativ guten Schicksal. Wir sehen im Naturgeschehen die Notwendigkeit, wie Wirkungen auf die Ursachen folgen; wir können das in geistiger Beziehung, in das unser moralisches Leben eingesponnen ist, nicht sehen. Und dennoch, wenn wir wiederum unbefangen auf das Leben hinsehen, sehen wir auch das Schicksal sich so abspielen, daß wir uns sagen müssen: es fließt so das Schicksal fort, daß wir es selber gesucht haben.
Man sei nur ganz unbefangen sich selbst gegenüber. Man schaue sich in irgendeinem Zeitpunkte des Lebens, den man in dieser Inkarnation erreicht hat, das frühere Leben an. Sagen wit, es ist einer fünfzig Jahre alt geworden und er schaut mit unbefangenem Blicke diese fünfzig Jahre zurück bis in die Kindheit; dann sieht man, wie man eigentlich durch einen inneren Drang zu allem selber hingegangen ist, was einen trifft. Es ist unangenehm, es zu beobachten; aber man verfolge die Dinge rückwärts, und man sieht, wie man sich sagen muß bei dem, was ausschlaggebend ist im Leben: Man hat sich wie zu einem Punkte, auf den man im Raum losgeht, so in der Zeit zu diesen Ereignissen des Lebens hinbewegt. - Es fließt schon das Schicksalsmäßige aus uns selber. Deshalb ist es durchaus begreiflich, wenn solche Menschen, die nun auch etwas väterlich geworden sind, wie Goethes Freund Knebel, sich sagen: Betrachtet man dieses Menschenleben, so kommt es einem ganz planvoll vor. Gewiß, dieser Plan ist nicht immer so, daß, wenn man auf ihn zurückblickt, man sich auch immer sagt: Wenn ich so zurückschaue, da würde ich es wieder so tun. — Aber dennoch, wenn man auf die Einzelheiten, die man getan hat, hinsieht, sieht man immer: Man hat zum Vorhergehenden das Folgende zugesetzt aus inneren Trieben heraus, und so ist es geschehen, daß dieses oder jenes Ereignis in unser Leben hineinfiel, - Man kommt auf diese Weise dazu, einzusehen, daß eine ganz andere Gesetzmäßigkeit durch unser moralisches Seelenleben sich ausdrückt als im Naturleben. Durch alles das kann man sich dann die Stimmung schaffen, in der man gegenübertreten muß dem Geistesforscher, der nun aus der Anschauung der geistigen Welt die Gestaltung des Schicksals ebenso zu schildern weiß, wie der Naturforscher aus den Naturvorgängen die Naturgesetze. Und eben dieses Erfassen der geistigen Gesetzlichkeit im Weltenall, das ist die Aufgabe der Anthroposophie in der Gegenwatt.
Davon zunächst einleitend ein paar Worte, Sie erinnern sich, ich habe zum Beispiel in meiner «Geheimwissenschaft» angeführt und auch in anderen Zusammenhängen dargestellt, wie dasjenige, was uns als Mond draußen vom Himmel herunterscheint, einmal mit der Erde verbunden war, wie der physische Mondenkörper sich von der Erde losgelöst hat, in einem ganz bestimmten Zeitpunkt sich getrennt hat von der Erde. Der Mond wird sich in einer zukünftigen Zeit wieder mit der Erde vereinigen. Aber nicht nur der physische Mond hat sich von der Erde getrennt, sondern auch gewisse Bewohner, die auf der Erde waren, als der physische Mond noch mit der Erde verbunden war, haben sich von der Erde getrennt. Wenn wir dasjenige, was als geistige Güter innerhalb der menschlichen Entwickelung lebt, nehmen, so kommen wir auch nur durch eine solche Betrachtung immer mehr darauf, daß zwar die gegenwärtige Menschheit ungeheuer gescheit ist - fast alle Menschen sind heute ungeheuer gescheit —, abet nicht weise. Weisheitsgüter — wenn auch nicht in verstandesmäßiger Form, sondern mehr in poetisch-bildhafter Form — waren einmal am Beginne der Menschheitsentwickelung da, hinausverstreut unter die Menschheit unserer Erde von großen Lehrern, von Urlehrern, die unter den Menschen waren. Diese Urlehrer der Menschheit waren nicht in einem physischen Menschenleibe wohnend, sie verkörperten sich nur in einem Ätherleibe, und der Verkehr mit ihnen war etwas anders, als erzwischen physischen Menschen ist. Diese Lehrer wanderten in einem Ätherleibe auf der Erde herum. Der Mensch, dem sie Führer wurden, der fühlte ihre Nähe in seiner Seele. Er fühlte in seine Seele etwas hineinkommen, was wie eine Inspiration war, wie ein innerliches Aufleuchten von Wahrheiten, auch von Anschauungen. Auf eine geistige Weise lehrten sie. Aber es war in der damaligen Zeit der Erdenentwickelung so, daß man unterschied Menschen, die man sehen kann, und Menschen, die man nicht sehen kann. Man machte nicht Anspruch darauf, Menschen, die man nicht sehen kann, sehen zu wollen, denn man hatte die Gabe, von ihnen die Lehren zu empfangen, auch wenn man sie nicht sah. Man hörte diese Lehren aus dem Innern der Seele heraus kommen und man sagte sich: Wenn diese Lehren kommen, dann hat sich mir genaht ein großer Urlehrer der Menschheit. - Und man hatte auch nicht etwa äußerlich Anschauungen von diesen Urlehrern; man begegnete ihnen im geistigen Schauen. Man schüttelte ihnen nicht physisch die Hand, aber begegnete sich doch und fühlte so etwas wie einen geistigen Händedruck.
Diese Urlehrer haben der Menschheit die ursprünglichen großen Weistümer gegeben, die nur im Nachklang erhalten sind selbst in solchen Schöpfungen, wie es die Veden sind und die Vedantaphilosophie. Selbst diese großen Lehren des Orients sind doch nur Nachklänge. Da war einmal eine Urweisheit über die Menschheit der Erde ausgebreitet, die dann zugrunde gegangen ist, damit die Menschen aus sich selber heraus in freiem Wollen sich wieder hinaufarbeiten können zum Geist. Freiheit des Menschenwesens wäre nicht möglich gewesen, wenn die Urlehrer dageblieben wären. Diese waren daher eine verhältnismäßig kurze Zeit, nachdem der Mond sich getrennt hatte von der Erde, dem Monde gefolgt und haben ihren Wohnplatz in dieser Weltenkolonie des Mondes aufgeschlagen. Sie sind wichtigste Bewohner dieser Mondenkolonie seit jener Zeit geworden, seit der sie sich von der Erde getrennt und die Menschen sich selber überlassen haben. Aber wenn wir auch seit jener Zeit diesen großen Urlehrern nicht mehr hier auf der Erde begegnen, begegnen wir ihnen doch als Menschen, die von Erdenleben zu Erdenleben gehen, in unserem Leben nach dem Tode, und zwar sehr bald, nachdem wir durch die Pforte des Todes gegangen sind. Auch das ist geschildert worden, daß der Mensch, wenn er durch die Pforte des Todes geht, erlebt, wie sich, nachdem er den physischen Leib verlassen hat,'der Ätherleib immer mehr weitet, immer größer und größer, aber auch dünner wird, und zuletzt im Weltenall verschwindet. Dann aber, dann fühlen wir unser Dasein nicht auf der Erde, sondern wir fühlen diese wenigen Tage nach dem Tode, nachdem wir den Ätherleib abgelegt haben, unser Dasein im unmittelbaren Umkreis der Erde. Ein paar Tage nach dem Tode fühlen wir uns nicht auf dem Erdenkörper lebend, sondern wir fühlen so, wie wenn dieser Erdenkörper erweitert wäre bis dahin, wo der Mond um die Erde herumkreist. Wir fühlen uns auf einer vergrößerten Erde, und wir fühlen gar nicht den Mond als nur einen Körper, sondern wir fühlen die ganze Sphäre als eins, die Mondenbahn nur als das Ende der Sphäre; die Erde einfach vergrößert wie bis zur Mondensphäre hin und geistig geworden. Wir sind in der Mondensphäre, und in dieser Mondensphäre verbleiben wir nun eine längere Zeit nach dem Tode. Da aber kommen wir zunächst wiederum zusammen mit denjenigen geistigen Wesenheiten, die im Ausgangspunkt des Erdendaseins des Menschen die großen Urlehrer waren. Die ersten Wesenheiten, denen wir nach unserem Tode im Kosmos sozusagen begegnen, sind diese ersten Urlehrer der Menschen; in deren Bereich kommen wir wieder. Und es ist nun eine merkwürdige Erfahrung, die wir machen.
Man könnte sich leicht vorstellen, das Dasein nach dem Tode, das eben eine Zeitlang dauert - von der Zeit werde ich noch zu sprechen haben -, habe etwas Schattenhaftes gegenüber dem Erdenleben. Das Erdenleben kommt uns ja so robust vor, wir können überall die Dinge anpacken, sie sind dicht; der Mensch ist dicht, kompakt. Wir bezeichnen etwas als wirklich dann, wenn wir es recht angreifen können. Dieses robuste Erdenleben erscheint uns, wenn wir durch die Todespforte gegangen sind, eigentlich wie ein Traum. Denn wir treten, indem wir auf die geschilderte Weise in den Mondenbereich eintreten, in ein Dasein, das uns nunmehr viel realer, viel mehr von Wirklichkeit durchsättigt erscheint, und das aus dem Grunde, weil diese Urlehrer der Menschheit, die ihr Dasein in der Mondenregion fortsetzen, uns mit ihrem eigenen Sein durchdringen und uns alles viel realer erscheinen lassen, als wie wir hier als Erdenmenschen die Dinge der Welt erleben. Und was erleben wir?
Nun, sehen Sie, das Erdenleben erleben wir ja eigentlich nur fragmentarisch. Wenn wir so zurückblicken mit dem gewöhnlichen Bewußtsein, dann kommt es uns wie ein einheitlicher Strom vor. Wie haben wir aber gelebt? Wir haben gelebt schattenhaft, einen Tag, dann folgt eine Nacht. Aber daran erinnert sich das gewöhnliche Bewußtsein nicht. Dann kommt wieder ein Tag, dann wieder eine Nacht, und so geht es fort, und wir setzen in der Erinnerung die Tage nur zusammen. Wir müssen in einer wahren Rückerinnerung immer die Tage unterbrechen mit dem, was wir in der Nacht erlebt haben, immer die Tage unterbrechen durch die Nächte. Das tut das gewöhnliche Bewußtsein mit einem gewissen Recht nicht, weil es herabgedämpft ist im Schlafe. Wenn wir unter diesen Mondenwesen sind, die einmal die Urlehrer der Menschheit waren, dann erleben wir gerade dasjenige, was wir in den Nächten durchgemacht haben hier auf der Erde. Daraus ergibt sich auch, wie lange diese Form des Daseins in der Mondenregion dauert. Wenn einer nicht eine Schlafratte ist, so verschläft er etwa ein Drittel seines Erdenlebens. Aber genau ebensolange dauert das Leben in der Mondenregion: ungefähr ein Drittel des Erdenlebens. Ist einer zwanzig Jahre alt geworden, so dauert es etwa sieben, ist einer sechzig Jahre alt geworden, so dauert es zwanzig Jahre, und so weiter. Da lebt man nun unter diesen Wesenheiten, da durchdringen sie einen mit ihrem Dasein.
Um aber zu verstehen, was man da ist, muß man gleich eindringen in dasjenige, was man nun wird, wenn man den physischen Leib verläßt. Davon weiß der Initiierte zu sagen und der Tote zu sagen, denn der Tote verläßt den physischen Leib durch die Region des Raumes. In dem Augenblicke, wo man den physischen Leib verlassen hat, geht man gerade in demjenigen auf, was außerhalb des physischen Leibes ist. Wenn ich hier stehe und ich meinen Leib verlasse, so ist das erste, in dem ich drin bin, der Tisch, und dann alles, was mich umgibt. Ich bin immer in demjenigen drinnen, was die Welt erfüllt, und immer weiter in dem drinnen, nur just nicht innerhalb meiner Haut. Dasjenige, was bisher meine physische Innenwelt war, das wird meine Außenwelt, und alles, was früher die Außenwelt war, wird meine Innenwelt. So wird auch das Moralische meine Außenwelt. Stellen wir uns vor, ich habe, als ein böser Kerl, einem anderen eine Ohrfeige gegeben, und ich lebe jetzt zurück nach dem Tode ins vierzigste Jahr: da habe ich ihn verletzt. Es war für ihn ein furchtbarer moralischer Eindruck. Ich lachte vielleicht in meinem Leben darüber. Jetzt erlebe ich nicht das, was ich damals erlebt habe, sondern was er erlebte an physischem Schmerz, an moralischen Leiden. Ich bin ganz in ihm. Das war ich in Wirklichkeit schon während jeder Nacht, nur bleibt das im Unterbewußten, da erfährt man es nicht, es bleibt Bild. Jetzt werden wir durchdrungen mit der Substanz der großen Urlehrer, die in dem Monde leben. Da machen wir es durch in einer intensiveren Weise als hier auf der Erde. Es wird, was hier auf der Erde wie ein Traum ist, eine viel stärkere Realität; sie machen wir durch. Diese intensive Realität erlebt auch noch derjenige, welcher aus dem hellseherischen Bewußtsein heraus mit einem Toten nach dem Tode weiter fortlebt, mit ihm dadurch, daß er sich zur Inspiration aufschwingen kann, übersinnlich schauend leben kann. Da erlebt man dann, wie die Menschen nach dem Tode eine intensivere Realität durchmachen als vor dem Tode. Das zu erleben, was ein Mensch nach dem Tode durchmacht, das wirkt viel stärker, wenn man es wirklich erlebt, als irgendwelche irdischen Einflüsse wirken können. Dafür ein Beispiel.
Einige werden doch wohl meine Mysterien kennen und in diesen Mysterien die Gestalt des Strader. Die Gestalt des Strader ist dem Leben nachgezeichnet. Es hat eine solche Persönlichkeit annähernd gegeben, sie hat mich außerordentlich interessiert. Ich habe das Leben dieser Persönlichkeit äußerlich verfolgt, die in der Gestalt des Strader — natürlich poetisch verändert — gegeben ist. Nun wissen Sie ja, daß ich vier Mysteriendramen geschrieben habe. Im vierten stirbt Strader. Dieses vierte Mysteriendrama, das 1913 geschrieben ist, das erlebte ich so, daß ich gar nicht anders konnte, als Strader sterben zu lassen. Warum? Nun, mein Blick war, solange das Vorbild von Strader in der physischen Welt hier lebte, auch auf dieses Vorbild des Strader gerichtet. Aber nun war mittlerweile dieses entsprechende Vorbild gestorben. Es hat mich so interessiert, daß ich es weiter verfolgte. Da waren die Eindrücke von dem Leben nach dem Tode so stark, daß sie mir völlig das Interesse auslöschten, wie er war während des Erdenlebens. Nicht so, als ob die Teilnahme nicht geblieben wäre, aber es war diese Teilnahme nicht hinreichend gegenüber den gewaltigen Eindrücken von dem, was er erlebte nach seinem physischen Erdentode, wenn man das verfolgte. Ich mußte den Strader sterben lassen, weil sein Vorbild mir vor Augen war, wie es nach dem Tode weiterlebte, und das war viel stärker als das frühere Leben.
Sehen Sie, das hat sich auch praktisch ausgelebt. Freunde haben sich gefunden, die erraten haben, wer das Vorbild des Strader ist, und haben mit einer gewissen edlen Hingabe sich bemüht, nachzuforschen dem Nachlasse dieses Vorbildes des Strader. Sie brachten mir das mit einer ungeheuren Freude. Ich mußte sozusagen unwillkürlich etwas unartig werden, denn mich interessierte das gar nicht, weil in dem Augenblicke, wo gegenüber diesen Überresten des Irdischen die Eindrücke vom Leben nach dem Tode auftraten, diese alles dasjenige auslöschten, was die Freunde noch aus dem irdischen Leben mir brachten. Und das ist es nun, daß diese Eindrücke, die bewirkt werden dadurch, daß in den Menschen die Substanz der Mondenwesen einzieht, daß diese Eindrücke eben alles, was man im Erdenleben erfahren kann, übertönen, das Dasein realer machen. Man erlebt also in einer stärkeren Realität die ausgleichende gerechte Tat. Was es bedeutet für den anderen, daß man ihm dieses oder jenes zugefügt hat, das erlebt man stärker als dasjenige, was man selbst getan hat.
Aus diesem Erleben nach dem Tode, das wir in der Sphäre der groBen Urlehrer der Menschheit durchmachen, bildet sich der erste Keim des Karma. Da fassen wir die Absicht: Das, was wir getan haben, muß durch uns selber ausgeglichen werden. Da tritt zuerst das auf, daß Absichten Wirkungen haben im Leben. Hier in der irdischen Welt braucht sich das Gute nicht im Guten, das Böse nicht im Bösen zu verwirklichen. In dem Augenblicke, wo wir die außerirdische Welt betreten, muß so etwas, wie wir es als Entschluß fassen innerhalb einer viel realeren Welt als die irdische, was da lebt in uns als Impuls: Du mußt dasjenige, was da als die Gegenseite dessen erscheint, was du getan hast, ausgleichen -, in dem Augenblicke muß, was wir so in uns erfassen als Absicht, eine reale Ursache werden für den Ausgleich im späteren Leben.
Schildern möchte ich Ihnen, wie sich nach und nach das Karma bildet, was der Mensch, wenn er wieder erscheint, nachdem er durchgemacht hat die Zeit zwischen dem Tod und der neuen Geburt, zu einem neuen Leben gestaltet. Die erste Zeit, die wir durchmachen nach dem Tode, wird eben in dieser Weise durchgemacht, daß wir die Absicht, unser Karma auszuführen, durch das Zusammenleben mit den Mondenwesen in uns fassen. So möchte ich Ihnen konkret die Etappen schildern, in denen der Mensch zwischen dem Tode und einer neuen Geburt sein Karma ausgleicht.
Eighth Lecture
Anthroposophical wisdom intervenes most profoundly in human life by pointing to the most comprehensive cosmic mysteries, to the mysteries of the whole world, which are actually united microcosmically in the being of man. But in everything that can become clear to us in this way from the cosmos, can become full of light, there lives something that shines not only into the daily, but also into the hourly aspects of human life, which, by treating this human life in relation to its destiny, its karma, shines into that which is immediately close to the human heart, which, as I said, is close to it every hour. And so, starting from the most diverse points of view, I would like to speak to you in particular these days about the anthroposophical foundation of those ideas, those spiritual images, which can bring us closer to the karma of the human being.
We know that in human life, as it takes place between birth and death, there are, so to speak, two moments that are essentially different from all other moments of this earthly human life. That is the moment - it is of course not a moment in the literal sense, but you will understand it - in which man as a spiritual-soul being descends into earthly life, takes on a physical body as an instrument of his work in the earthly, not only clads himself with this physical body, but transforms himself, so to speak, into this physical body in order to be able to work on earth: the beginning of earthly life, birth and conception. The other moment is when the human being leaves earthly life by returning to the spiritual world through the gate of death.
If we consider the latter moment first, we can see how the physical human form is preserved to a certain degree in the first days after death. But we ask ourselves: How does that which is preserved as the physical human form relate to nature, to that existence which surrounds us in earthly life in the various realms of nature? Are these realms of nature, is the whole of external nature capable of relating to the remnant of the human entity in such a way that it can maintain this remnant in its formation? No, nature is not capable of this. Nature alone is able to destroy that which has been built up as a human-physical entity since entering physical earthly life, and with death begins the dissolution of the form which man regards as his earthly form. Anyone who allows this quite obvious truth to affect his soul deeply enough will realize how simply the physical human form is the counter-evidence to all material things. For if the material were correct, one would have to be able to say that nature builds the human form. It cannot be said, because nature can only destroy the human form, not build it up. And a powerful impression can emanate from this thought. It does emanate, but very often it is not put into the right thought form. It lives in the unconscious of the human soul, it lives in everything we feel when we think of death. But there it lives an energetic existence. And anthroposophy wants nothing more than to bring such riddles, which arise in life to the unbiased human sense, to that degree of solution which is necessary for the right guidance of life. And so it must first of all simply point the unbiased human spirit to that which is the moment of death.
On the other hand, it can point to the moment of birth. But one can actually only gain a mental image of this moment of birth that corresponds to the concept of death if one engages in a little unbiased self-observation. This self-observation must be based on human thinking. Human thinking spreads itself over everything that happens in the physical-sensual world on earth. We think about what is going on in the world. We could not be human at all if we did not form these thoughts; for by forming these thoughts we distinguish ourselves from all other beings that surround us in the earthly realm. But if we grasp our thoughts in unbiased self-observation, then they really do seem quite far removed from everything else that surrounds us as reality. Just imagine in the right way how inwardly abstract and cold we become when we devote ourselves to thinking, compared to the way we are when we devote ourselves to life with our soul. There should be no doubt at all before the unbiased mind that thoughts as such initially have something cold, abstract, something sober, dry about them. But it should be part of the anthroposophist's first meditative experience to look at our thought life in the right way. Then something will strike him about this thought life which may appear to him very similar to the sight we have of a corpse. What is characteristic of the sight of a corpse? There it lies before us, this corpse. We say to ourselves: a human soul, a human spirit lived in this structure; this human soul, this spirit is gone. What is a human corpse lies there like a shell of the soul and the spirit, but at the same time it provides us with the proof that everything that is extra-human could never have produced this structure, that this structure could only have emerged from the innermost, spirit-souled human nature itself, that it is a remnant of something that no longer exists. The form itself shows us that the corpse is not a truth, it is only a remnant of a truth, it only has a meaning when soul and spirit live in it. Now in its remaining form it has lost much, but as it is, it shows that soul and spirit have dwelt in it.
We can then turn our spiritual gaze to the life of thought. It will also appear to us - albeit from a somewhat different point of view - as if it were something corpse-like. Human thinking, if we look at it impartially within ourselves, can actually exist just as little by itself as the human form in the corpse. It has no meaning, and human thought, as it perceives external nature, has no meaning at all, just as little as a corpse. For external nature is always something that can be grasped by thought, but can never produce thought. Otherwise there could be no logic that sees what is right and wrong in thought independently of all the laws of nature. If we grasp the thought here in the earthly world and see through it correctly, it must appear to us as a corpse, as a spiritual corpse, just as what remains of man appears as a physical corpse when man has passed through the gate of death. We only understand the form of the human being if we look at it as a remnant of what a living human being has left behind in death. Just imagine if there was only one human being on earth and he had died, and a Martian came down and looked at this corpse: he would not understand it at all. He could study all the forms in the mineral, vegetable and animal kingdoms and still not understand how this form, lying there dead, could have come about. For it contradicts itself, and it contradicts the whole extra-human, earthly world. It betrays in itself that it has been abandoned by something, for it could not be as it is if it had always been left to itself in this way.
It is the same with our thoughts. They could not be as they are if they were only there through external nature. They are a corpse of the soul, comparable to a physical corpse. If there is a corpse, something must have died. What has died? What has died is that form of thinking which we had before we descended into the earthly world. There lived that which is dead in abstract thought. The thinking of the soul, which did not yet have a body, relates to the thought as we have it now, just as the animated and spiritualized human being relates to the corpse. And we humans in the physical body are the grave in which the living soul life of the pre-earthly existence has been buried. The thought was alive in the soul. The soul died for the spiritual world. We do not carry the living thought, we carry the corpse of thought within us.
This is what happens when we go to the other side of earthly life, which is opposite to the side of death, when we go after birth. We say to ourselves: In a certain way the spiritual in man dies through birth; the physical in man dies through death. - Then we speak more correctly about these facts than is usually spoken in our time.
If we first seek the gateway to anthroposophy by directing the soul comfortably towards death and thus make ourselves understand how thinking is a corpse compared to pre-earthly thinking, then our view of the human being will widen beyond earthly life, and only then will we prepare ourselves to receive the anthroposophical teaching, the anthroposophical wisdom. It is only because we do not look in the right way at that which is still there in earthly life, albeit as a corpse - but earthly life is the place for this - that we find it so difficult to find the natural path to anthroposophy. Today we overestimate thinking, but we do not actually know it; we only know it in its soul-corpse-like state.
Now, if one directs one's thoughts in the way I have tried to direct them before you, then one is strongly pointed to the two sides of the eternal life of the human soul. Basically, from human hopes, we have only one word in modern languages for half eternity, which begins now and does not end. We only have the word “immortality” because the people of our age are primarily interested in what happens after death. He is here now, and it is connected with all his interests in life to know what happens after death. But there were times in the development of mankind when he was interested in something else. Today, the more egoistically minded person says to himself: I am interested in what follows death, because I want to know whether I will live beyond death; I am not interested in what happened before birth or before conception. - Because he is there, the human being, so he doesn't think about the pre-earthly life in quite the same way as he does about the post-mortal life. But these two sides belong to the eternal nature of the human soul: immortality and unbornness. Older, original mystery languages of men, who still saw the supersensible world according to the age, also had a corresponding word for unbornness. We must first of all acquire one again by directing our thoughts in such directions. In this way, however, we are also led to a law that is quite different from the law of nature as it exists in man: to human destiny.
At first this human destiny only appears before our souls in such a way that it strikes us as if by chance, so to speak, that it lives itself out as if by chance. We accomplish this and that out of this or that impulse and must say to ourselves in relation to ordinary life: in countless cases it happens that the good are granted difficult, sorrowful, tragic life experiences, whereas those who do not have good intentions are not granted bad, but precisely good life experiences. The connection between what emanates from us in our souls and what we are fated to experience is not something we see with our ordinary consciousness in ordinary life. We see how the good can be struck by the worst blows of fate, and how the evil need not be struck by anything other than a relatively good fate. In natural events we see the necessity of how effects follow causes; we cannot see this in spiritual relationships, in which our moral life is interwoven. And yet, if we again look at life impartially, we also see fate playing itself out in such a way that we must say to ourselves: fate flows on in such a way that we have sought it ourselves.
Just be completely impartial towards yourself. At some point in the life you have reached in this incarnation, take a look at your earlier life. Let us say someone has reached the age of fifty and looks back with an impartial eye over these fifty years to his childhood; then one sees how one has actually gone to everything oneself through an inner urge. It is unpleasant to observe it; but follow things backwards and you will see how you have to tell yourself what is decisive in life: One has moved towards these events of life as if towards a point at which one is going in space, so in time. - Fate flows out of ourselves. It is therefore quite understandable when such people, who have now also become somewhat fatherly, like Goethe's friend Knebel, say to themselves: "If you look at this human life, it seems quite planned. Of course, this plan is not always such that, when one looks back on it, one always says to oneself: If I looked back like that, I would do it like that again. - But nevertheless, when one looks at the details of what one has done, one always sees that one has added the following to the previous one out of inner impulses, and so it happened that this or that event fell into our life - in this way one comes to realize that a quite different law expresses itself through our moral soul life than in natural life. Through all this one can then create the mood in which one must face the spiritual scientist, who now knows how to describe the shaping of destiny from the contemplation of the spiritual world just as the natural scientist knows how to describe the laws of nature from the processes of nature. And precisely this comprehension of the spiritual laws in the universe is the task of anthroposophy in the present day.
First a few words by way of introduction, you will remember that I have, for example, mentioned in my “Secret Science” and also described in other contexts how that which appears to us as the moon outside from the sky was once connected with the earth, how the physical lunar body separated from the earth, separated from the earth at a very specific point in time. The moon will reunite with the earth in a future time. But not only the physical moon has separated from the earth, but also certain inhabitants who were on earth when the physical moon was still connected to the earth have separated from the earth. If we take that which lives as spiritual goods within human development, then only through such a consideration do we come more and more to the conclusion that although present-day humanity is tremendously clever - almost all people today are tremendously clever - but not wise. Wisdom - even if not in intellectual form, but more in poetic, pictorial form - was once there at the beginning of the development of mankind, scattered among mankind on our earth by great teachers, by primal teachers who were among men. These primal teachers of mankind did not dwell in a physical human body, they embodied themselves only in an etheric body, and the intercourse with them was somewhat different from that between physical human beings. These teachers wandered about the earth in an etheric body. The man to whom they became guides felt their nearness in his soul. He felt something come into his soul which was like an inspiration, like an inner illumination of truths, also of views. They taught in a spiritual way. But at that time of earthly development, a distinction was made between people who could be seen and people who could not be seen. One did not claim to want to see people one could not see, for one had the gift of receiving teachings from them, even if one did not see them. One heard these teachings coming from within the soul and one said to oneself: When these teachings come, then a great original teacher of humanity has approached me. - And one did not have external views of these primal teachers; one met them in spiritual vision. We did not shake their hands physically, but we did meet them and felt something like a spiritual handshake.
These primal teachers gave mankind the original great wisdoms, which are only preserved in echoes even in such creations as the Vedas and the Vedanta philosophy. Even these great teachings of the Orient are only echoes. There was once a primordial wisdom spread over the humanity of the earth, which then perished so that people could work their way up to the spirit again out of themselves in free will. Freedom of the human being would not have been possible if the original teachers had remained. They had therefore followed the moon for a relatively short time after the moon had separated from the earth and had taken up residence in this world colony of the moon. They have become the most important inhabitants of this lunar colony since the time when they separated from the earth and left the humans to their own devices. But even if we no longer meet these great primal teachers here on earth since that time, we still meet them as people who go from earthly life to earthly life in our life after death, and very soon after we have passed through the gate of death. This has also been described, that the human being, when he passes through the gate of death, experiences how, after he has left the physical body, the etheric body expands more and more, becomes larger and larger, but also thinner, and finally disappears into the universe. Then, however, we do not feel our existence on earth, but for these few days after death, after we have discarded the etheric body, we feel our existence in the immediate vicinity of the earth. A few days after death we do not feel ourselves living on the earthly body, but we feel as if this earthly body had been extended to where the moon circles around the earth. We feel ourselves on an enlarged earth, and we do not feel the moon as only one body, but we feel the whole sphere as one, the moon's orbit only as the end of the sphere; the earth simply enlarged as far as the sphere of the moon and has become spiritual. We are in the lunar sphere, and in this lunar sphere we now remain for a longer time after death. There, however, we first come together again with those spiritual beings who were the great original teachers at the beginning of man's earthly existence. The first beings we meet in the cosmos after our death, so to speak, are these first primal teachers of human beings; we return to their realm. And it is now a strange experience that we have.
One could easily imagine that existence after death, which lasts for a while - I will have to talk about time later - has something shadowy about it compared to life on earth. Earthly life seems so robust to us, we can touch things everywhere, they are dense; the human being is dense, compact. We describe something as real when we can tackle it properly. This robust earthly life actually seems like a dream to us when we have passed through the gates of death. For by entering the lunar region in the way described, we enter an existence that now seems much more real to us, much more saturated with reality, and this is because these primal teachers of humanity, who continue their existence in the lunar region, permeate us with their own being and make everything seem much more real to us than how we experience the things of the world here as earthlings. And what do we experience?
Well, you see, we actually only experience life on earth in fragments. When we look back with our ordinary consciousness, it seems like a unified stream. But how did we live? We have lived in shadows, one day, followed by one night. But the ordinary consciousness does not remember this. Then comes another day, then another night, and so it goes on, and we only put the days together in our memory. In a true recollection we must always interrupt the days with what we have experienced in the night, always interrupt the days with the nights. Ordinary consciousness does not do this with a certain right, because it is dampened down in sleep. When we are among these lunar beings, who were once the original teachers of mankind, then we experience precisely what we have gone through in the nights here on earth. This also shows how long this form of existence in the lunar region lasts. If someone is not a sleepyhead, he sleeps through about a third of his earthly life. But that is exactly how long life in the lunar region lasts: about a third of life on earth. If someone is twenty years old, it lasts about seven years, if someone is sixty years old, it lasts twenty years, and so on. You now live among these beings, they permeate you with their existence.
But in order to understand what one is there, one must immediately penetrate into that which one now becomes when one leaves the physical body. The initiate knows what to say and the dead person knows what to say, for the dead person leaves the physical body through the region of space. The moment one has left the physical body, one merges into that which is outside the physical body. When I stand here and leave my body, the first thing I am in is the table, and then everything that surrounds me. I am always inside that which fills the world, and always further inside that, only just not inside my skin. That which was previously my physical inner world becomes my outer world, and everything that used to be the outer world becomes my inner world. In the same way, the moral becomes my outer world. Let us imagine that I, as a bad guy, have slapped someone in the face, and I now live back into my fortieth year after death: I hurt him. It made a terrible moral impression on him. I may have laughed about it in my life. Now I am not experiencing what I experienced then, but what he experienced in terms of physical pain and moral suffering. I am completely inside him. In reality I was already like that every night, but it remains in the subconscious, you don't experience it there, it remains an image. Now we are imbued with the substance of the great primal teachers who live in the moon. There we experience it in a more intense way than here on earth. What is like a dream here on earth becomes a much stronger reality; we go through it. This intense reality is also experienced by those who, out of clairvoyant consciousness, continue to live with a dead person after death, who can live with him in a supersensible way by rising to inspiration. One then experiences how people go through a more intense reality after death than before death. Experiencing what a person goes through after death has a much stronger effect, if one really experiences it, than any earthly influences can have. Here is an example of this.
Some of you will probably know my mysteries and in these mysteries the figure of Strader. The figure of Strader is drawn from life. There was almost such a personality, and I was extremely interested in him. I have followed the life of this personality externally, which is given in the figure of Strader - poetically altered, of course. Now you know that I have written four mystery dramas. In the fourth, Strader dies. I experienced this fourth mystery drama, written in 1913, in such a way that I had no choice but to let Strader die. Why? Well, as long as the model of Strader lived here in the physical world, my gaze was also directed towards this model of Strader. But now this role model had died. It interested me so much that I pursued it further. The impressions of life after death were so strong that they completely extinguished my interest in what he was like during his life on earth. Not as if the participation had not remained, but this participation was not sufficient compared to the tremendous impressions of what he experienced after his physical death on earth, if one pursued this. I had to let Strader die because his example was before my eyes, as it lived on after death, and that was much stronger than the earlier life.
You see, that also played out in practice. Friends were found who guessed who Strader's role model was, and with a certain noble devotion they endeavored to investigate the legacy of Strader's role model. They brought me immense joy. I had to become, so to speak, involuntarily a little naughty, for I was not at all interested, because at the moment when the impressions of life after death appeared opposite these remains of the earthly, they obliterated everything that the friends still brought me from earthly life. And it is now that these impressions, which are brought about by the fact that the substance of the moon beings enters the human being, that these impressions drown out everything that one can experience in earthly life, make existence more real. Thus one experiences the balancing righteous deed in a stronger reality. What it means for the other person that you have done this or that to them is experienced more strongly than what you have done yourself.
From this experience after death, which we go through in the sphere of the great primal teachers of humanity, the first seed of karma is formed. There we form the intention that what we have done must be balanced out by ourselves. That is when the first intention appears, that intentions have effects in life. Here in the earthly world, good need not be realized in good, evil need not be realized in evil. At the moment when we enter the extraterrestrial world, something such as we make as a decision within a much more real world than the earthly world, something that lives in us as an impulse: You must balance that which appears there as the opposite side of what you have done - at that moment, what we thus grasp in us as an intention must become a real cause for the balance in later life.
I would like to describe to you how karma is gradually formed, what man, when he reappears after having gone through the time between death and the new birth, shapes into a new life. The first time we pass through after death is passed through in such a way that we form the intention to carry out our karma by living together with the lunar beings. So I would like to describe to you in concrete terms the stages in which man balances his karma between death and a new birth.