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Awakening to Community
GA 257

23 January 1923, Stuttgart

Lecture I

The Goetheanum, which has been under construction in Dornach for the past ten years, no longer stands there; the building has been lost to the work of the Anthroposophical Society, and what an appalling loss it is! One need only weigh what the Goetheanum has meant to the Society to form some idea of the enormity of that loss and of the load of grief brought upon us by the catastrophic fire of last New Year's Eve.

Until 1913, when the foundation stone of the Goetheanum was laid in Dornach, the Anthroposophical Society served as the guardian of the Anthroposophical Movement wherever it had established branches. But then the Society began to feel that it needed a central building of its own. Perhaps members here will appreciate especially keenly what the Society as a whole has lost in the building that became its home, for in Stuttgart the Society has its own building. We have been privileged to carry on our activities in it for many years, and Stuttgart members therefore know from experience what it means to work in a building of their own, conceived as a suitable setting for the Anthroposophical Movement.

Up to the time when the Anthroposophical Society felt moved to establish its center in the building at Dornach, its only way of carrying on its work—except, as has been said, in Stuttgart—was in meetings. It had to rely solely on words to convey the possibility of a connection of man with the spiritual world such as has become a necessity for present day human evolution. Of course, the medium of the spoken word will always remain the most important, significant and indispensable means to that end that is available to the Movement. But additional ways opened up to us with the building of the Goetheanum. It became possible to speak to the world at large in the purely artistic forms striven for in it. While it is true that people who lack a sense for what anthroposophy has to offer through the medium of words will also evince little feeling for the artistic forms they perceive in the Goetheanum at Dornach, it is nevertheless true that people of our time tend to find it easier to approach things with their eyes than to rouse themselves to inner activity through what they hear. The Dornach building thus vastly widened the possibility of conveying the spirituality so needed by the human race today. In its visible forms and as a visible work of art, the Goetheanum spoke of the secrets of the spiritual world to an immeasurably greater number of people than had previously been able to learn of them through spoken words. Anyone with enough goodwill to look without prejudice at the building and at the anthroposophy underlying it found in the Goetheanum proof positive that anthroposophy is not tainted with sectarianism, but rather addresses itself to the great task of the age: that of taking up and embodying in every facet of our civilization and our culture the rays of a new spiritual light now available to humankind. Perhaps it was possible for an unprejudiced person to detect a sectarian note in one or another of the many meetings held in rented lecture halls. But that became impossible for people of goodwill as they looked at the Dornach building, where every trace of symbolism or allegory was studiously avoided and the anthroposophical impulse confined itself to purest art. People had to see that anthroposophy fosters something of wide human appeal, not something strange and different, that it is trying to fructify the present in a way that has universal human meaning in every realm of modern endeavor. The Goetheanum whose ruins are now so painful to behold had become in this sense a powerful means of expressing what the true nature of the Anthroposophical Movement is. We tried to carry our intention of keeping to the universally human into every least detail of the building. We strove to achieve pure art, for such a striving is profoundly part of the anthroposophical impulse. So the Goetheanum became a means of communicating the lofty concerns of the Anthroposophical Society even to people who had no interest in the Society as such.

This is the way things were for almost ten years. But a single night sufficed to end it.

To speak these two sentences in sequence is to be plunged into feelings that defy expression. Anything that could be reported of the work and worries of the past ten years falls into insignificance beside the irreparable loss of this vital means of showing what the Anthroposophical Movement is.

Now that the Goetheanum is gone, everyone who loved it and had a real sense of what it signified longs to have it rebuilt in some form or other. But the very thought of rebuilding should remind us that ten years have passed since the building was begun, and that the Anthroposophical Movement is of a nature that attracts enemies. In these grief-stricken days we have been given a further taste of what enmity means. Yet, on the other hand, the catastrophe also brought to light what hosts of true friends the Goetheanum had made for the Anthroposophical Movement. For along with messages from members, so gratefully received by me—messages in which they wrote of their grief and anguish—there were many from individuals who, though they had remained outside the Society, wanted to express their fellow-feeling in the matter of our catastrophic loss. Much warmth toward our cause came to light on that occasion.

Indeed, it was love that built the Goetheanum, and at the end, too, it stood under the sign of love. Only a boundlessly sacrificial spirit on the part of those who, when we began building in 1913, had long been devoting themselves to the movement, made the building possible. Immeasurable sacrifices were made—material, spiritual and labor sacrifices. Many friends of the Movement joined forces in Dornach and worked together in the most selfless way imaginable to bring the building into being.

Then the terrible war broke out. But even though the building tempo slowed down considerably during those harrowing years, no breach was made in the cooperative anthroposophical spirit of the members who were working together. The Dornach building site was a place where representatives of many European nations at war with one another worked and thought and carried on together in peace and loving fellowship. Perhaps it can be said, without any intention of boasting, that the love built into this building will stand out when historians come to record the waves of hatred set in motion among civilized peoples in the war-time years. While that hate was raging elsewhere, real love prevailed in Dornach and was built into the building—love that had its origin in the spirit. The name anthroposophy bears is justified: it is not mere learning like any other. The ideas it presents and the words it uses are not meant as abstract theory. Anthroposophical ideas are not shaped in the way other kinds of learning have been shaping ideas for the past three or four centuries; words are not meant as they are elsewhere. Anthroposophical ideas are vessels fashioned by love, and man's being is spiritually summoned by the spiritual world to partake of their content. Anthroposophy must bring the light of true humanness to shine out in thoughts that bear love's imprint; knowledge is only the form in which man reflects the possibility of receiving in his heart the light of the world spirit that has come to dwell there and from that heart illumine human thought. Since anthroposophy cannot really be grasped except by the power of love, it is love-engendering when human beings take it in a way true to its own nature. That is why a place where love reigned could be built in Dornach in the very midst of raging hatreds. Words expressing anthroposophical truths are not like words spoken elswhere today; rightly conceived, they are all really reverential pleas that the spirit make itself known to men.

The building erected in Dornach was built in this reverential spirit. Love was embodied in it. That same love manifested itself in renewed sacrifice during the night of the Goetheanum fire. It was spirit transformed into love that was present there.

I cannot speak at this time of the deeper, spiritual aspects of the Goetheanum fire. I can understand someone asking questions close to his heart such as, “How could a just cosmos have failed to prevent this frightful disaster?” Nor can I deny anyone the right to ask whether the catastrophe could not have been foreseen. But these questions lead into the very depths of esoterics, and it is impossible to discuss them because there is simply no place remaining to us where they can be brought up without at once being reported to people who would forge them into weapons for use against the Anthroposophical Movement. This prevents my going into the deeper spiritual facts of the case.

But what was cast in the mould of love has called forth bitter enmity. Our misfortune has unleashed a veritable hailstorm of ridicule, contempt and hatred, and the willful distortion of truth that has always characterized so large a part of our opposition is especially typical of the situation now, with enemies creeping out of every corner and spreading deliberate untruth about the tragedy itself. Our friends present at the scene of the fire did everything in their power to save what simply could not be saved. But ill-wishers have had the bad taste to say, for example, that the fire showed up the members for what they were, that they just hung about praying for the fire to stop of itself. This is merely a small sample of the contempt and ridicule we are being subjected to in connection with the fire.

I have been warning for years that we will have to reckon with a constantly growing opposition, and that it is our foremost duty to be aware of this and to be properly vigilant. It was always painful to have to hear people say that our enemies in this or that quarter seemed to be quieting down. This sort of thing is due to people's willingness to entertain illusions, unfortunately all too prevalent among us. Let us hope that the terrible misfortune we have had to face will at least have the effect of curing members of their illusions and convincing them of the need to concentrate all the forces of their hearts and minds on advancing the Anthroposophical Movement. For now that the wish to build another Goetheanum is being expressed, we need to be particularly conscious of the fact that without a strong, energetic Anthroposophical Society in the background it would be senseless to rebuild. Rebuilding makes sense only if a self-aware, strong Anthroposophical Society, thoroughly conscious of what its responsibilities are, stands behind it.

We cannot afford to forget what the bases of such a strong Anthroposophical Society are. Let us, therefore, go on, on this solemn occasion, to consider the way a strong Anthroposophical Society, aware of its responsibilities, should be conceived in the situation we are presently facing.

Until 1918, my dear friends, the Anthroposophical Society was what I might call a vessel to contain the spiritual stream believed by leading members to be vitally needed by present day humanity. Up to that time the only additional element was what grew out of the heart of anthroposophy, out of anthroposophical thinking, feeling and will. Even though the Dornach building was everything I have just described—an expression of the Anthroposophical Movement in a much broader sense than words can ever be—its every least detail came into being out of the very heart of anthroposophy.

But anthroposophy is not the concern of a separatist group; sectarianism is abhorrent to it. This means that it is capable of making whatever springs from its center fruitful for all life's various realms. During the hard times that followed upon the temporary ending of the war in Europe, friends of the Movement saw the tragic shape of things that prevailed on every hand in the life about them, and they realized how essential new impulses were in every realm of life. Much that grew out of the Anthroposophical Movement after 1919 took on a very different character than it would have had if anthroposophy had gone on shaping its efforts as it had been doing prior to that time. It is certainly true that anthroposophy is called upon to make its influence felt in every phase of life, and most certainly in those fields where friends of the Movement, motivated by anthroposophy, have sought to be fruitfully active. But external events have somehow brought it about that much that has been undertaken did not, in fact, spring directly from an anthroposophical spirit, but was instead founded and carried on alongside and unrelated to it. So we have seen a good deal happen since 1919 which, though it cannot be called unanthroposophical, has nevertheless been carried on in another sort of spirit than would have prevailed had the Anthroposophical Movement continued to pursue the course it was following up to 1918. This is a fact of the greatest importance, and I ask you not to misunderstand me when I speak about these matters as I must, in duty bound.

I am most decidedly not referring to such appropriate undertakings as Der Kommende Tag, [DER KOMMENDE TAG. A public corporation serving economic and spiritual concerns in Stuttgart. It was to demonstrate cooperation between economic and cultural institutions. Founded in 1920 and liquidated in 1925, the enterprise became a victim of inflation and other unfavorable events.] undertakings that came into being in close connection with the Anthroposophical Movement, even though they carry on their existence as separate entities. What I shall have to say does not apply to this type of enterprise. Please, therefore, do not take my words as reflecting in the least on the standing of such undertakings in the material sphere as these, for they have every intention of proceeding along lines entirely in harmony with the Anthroposophical Movement. What I am about to say refers exclusively to the Anthroposophical Society as such, to work in and for the Society.

This Anthroposophical Movement, which is partially anchored in the Anthroposophical Society, has been able to demonstrate its universally human character especially clearly here in Stuttgart, where it has proved that it did not spring from some spiritual party program or other but had its origin rather in the full breadth of human nature. Unprejudiced people probably realize that the proof of anthroposophy's universally human character is to be found here in Stuttgart in one area in particular: the pedagogy of the Waldorf School. [The first “Free Waldorf School” according to the pedagogy of Rudolf Steiner was founded at Stuttgart in 1919. At present, there are some seventy Waldorf Schools in many countries.] The proof lies in the fact that the Waldorf School is not an institution set up to teach anthroposophy, but to solve the problem of how to teach for the best development of the whole wide range of human capacities. How can education best serve human growth? Anthroposophy must show how this problem can be solved. A sect or a party would have founded a school for teaching its views, not a school based on universally human considerations.

The universally human character striven for in the Waldorf School cannot be too strongly emphasized. One can say in a case like this that a person who is a genuine anthroposophist is not in the least concerned with the name anthroposophy; he is concerned with what it is about. But it is about universally human concerns. So when it is brought to bear on a certain goal, it can function only in the most universally human sense. Every sect or party that sets out to found a school founds a sectarian school to train up, say, Seventh Day Adventists or the like. It is contrary to the nature of anthroposophy to do this. Anthroposophy can only give rise to universally human institutions; that is what comes naturally to it. People who still treat the Anthroposophical Movement as a sect despite these facts are either unobservant or malicious, for the Waldorf School here in Stuttgart offers positive proof that anthroposophy is concerned with what is universally human.

But circles within the Society should also pay close heed to this same fact. The way the Waldorf School was founded, the whole spirit of its founding, are matters for the Society's pondering. This spirit should serve as a model in any further foundings related either to the Anthroposophical Society or to the Movement. Perhaps we may say that the Goetheanum in Dornach and the Waldorf School and its procedures show how anthroposophical activity should be carried on in all the various spheres of culture.

To make sure of not being misunderstood, let me say again that I have used Der Kommende Tag as an example of something that has its own rightness because of the way it was set up, and it is therefore not among the institutions that I will be referring to in what follows. I am going to restrict my comments to what is being done or contemplated in the way of anthroposophical activity within the Anthroposophical Movement itself. I want especially to stress that the Movement has succeeded in demonstrating in the Waldorf School that it does not work in a narrowly sectarian, egotistic spirit, but rather in a spirit so universally human that the background out of which its pupils come is no longer discernible, so universally human have they grown. It is superfluous, in the case of the Waldorf School, to ask whether its origin was anthroposophy; the only question is whether children who receive their education there are being properly educated. Anthroposophy undergoes a metamorphosis into the universally human when it is put to work. But for that to be the case, for anthroposophy to be rightly creative in the various fields, it must have an area—not for its own but for its offsprings' sake—where it is energetically fostered and where its members are fully conscious of their responsibilities to the Society. Only then can anthroposophy be a suitable parent to these many offspring in the various spheres of culture and civilization. The Society must unite human beings who feel the deepest, holiest commitment to the true fostering of anthroposophy.

This is by no means easy, though many people think it is. It is a task that has certain difficult aspects. These difficulties have shown up especially strongly here in Stuttgart too since 1919. For though on the one hand the Waldorf School has thus far preserved the truly anthroposophical character I have been discussing, we have seen just in this case on the other hand how extraordinarily difficult it is to keep the right relationship between the Anthroposophical Society as the parent, and its offspring activities. This may sound paradoxical, but if I go into more detail you will perhaps understand me also in this.

The comments I am about to make are not intended to reflect in any way on the worth of the various movements that have sprung up since 1919 in connection with anthroposophy; all I have in mind is their effect on the Society, so no one should mistake my words for value judgments. I am speaking exclusively of effects on the Society. The enterprises that I shall be referring to have not always been conceived by those responsible for them with what I might call up-to-date feeling for the spirit of the commandment, ‘Honor thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord giveth thee.’ The moving spirits in these projects have often—indeed, usually—been members of the Anthroposophical Society. The question now arises whether these members, active in fields connected with the Society, have always kept the parental source clearly in mind, competent though they undoubtedly are in their chosen fields. Is the effect of their professional activity on the Society desirable? This is a very different question than whether the persons concerned are professionally competent. Speaking radically, I would put it thus: A person can be the most excellent Waldorf School teacher imaginable, one wholly consonant with the spirit in which the Waldorf School grew out of the Anthroposophical Movement to become a universally human undertaking. He can carry on his work as a Waldorf teacher wholly in that spirit. The school can shape itself and its work in the anthroposophical spirit all the better for not being a school to teach anthroposophy. The individual Waldorf teacher may make most excellent contributions to it without necessarily doing the right thing by the Society as a member. I am not saying that this is true in any given instance, just that it could be true. Or let us say that someone can be an able officer of Der Kommende Tag, a person with the ability to make it flourish, yet prove most inadequate to the needs of the Anthroposophical Society. But the failure to give the parent entity what it needs in order to foster all its offspring properly is cause for the greatest anxiety, for really deep worry about the Anthroposophical Movement.

My dear friends, the fact that this situation prevailed in a certain field was what forced me to speak as I did about the Movement for Religious Renewal1MOVEMENT FOR RELIGIOUS RENEWAL. The Christian Community with its center at Stuttgart. The next to last lecture at the Goetheanum on December 30, 1922, is contained in the book, Man and the World of Stars, Anthroposophic Press, New York, 1963. in my next-to-last lecture at the Goetheanum. I most certainly do not mean to criticize the Movement for Religious Renewal in the slightest, for it was brought into being three and a half months ago with my own cooperation and advice. It would be the most natural thing in the world for me to be profoundly delighted should it succeed. Surely no doubt can exist on this score. Nevertheless, after it had been in existence for three and a half months, I had to speak as I did at that time in Dornach, directing my comments not to the Movement for Religious Renewal but to the anthroposophists, including of course those attached to the Movement for Religious Renewal. What I had to say was, in so many words: Yes, rejoice in the child, but don't forget the mother and the care and concern due her. That care and concern are owed her by the Movement for Religious Renewal, too, but most particularly by the members of the Anthroposophical Society.

For what a thing it would be if the Society were to be slighted, if anthroposophists were to turn away from it to an offspring movement, not in the sense of saying that those of us who have grown together with the Anthroposophical Movement can be the best advisors and helpers of an offspring movement, but instead turning away from the Anthroposophical Movement of which they were members with the feeling that they have at last found what they were really looking for, something they could never have found in anthroposophy! Though there is every reason to be overjoyed at the parent's concern for the child, it must be clearly recognized that the child cannot prosper if the mother is neglected. If anthroposophists who join the Movement for Religious Renewal leave much to be desired as members of the Anthroposophical Society, we would face exactly the same situation as would have to be faced in the case of a Waldorf School teacher who, though a first-rate man in his field, contributed too little to the Society. But this is just the fate we have been experiencing since 1919, little as the fact has been noticed.

We have witnessed the well-intentioned founding of the Union for the Threefolding of the Social Organism. [UNION FOR THE THREEFOLDING OF THE SOCIAL ORGANISM. The Union had its seat in Stuttgart and published the weekly review, Dreigliederung des Sozialen Organismus.] This Union was largely responsible for the failure to get a hearing for the threefold commonwealth in nonanthroposophical circles. What it did do was to try to hammer the threefold impulse into the Anthroposophical Movement, which was already permeated by everything basic to it, and this in a far deeper way than could ever be matched by its quite external, exoteric expression in the threefold commonwealth. We had the sad experience of seeing that some anthroposophists who worked so zealously and intensively at this task became less valuable members of the Society than they had been.

Such has been our fate for the past four years. The situation has to be described as it really is, because it will take a strong, energetic Anthroposophical Society to justify any thought of rebuilding the Goetheanum. We must remind ourselves how significant a phenomenon it was that Stuttgart was just the place where an excellent beginning was made in a wide range of activities. But to be realistic we need to ask the following question (and I beg you not to misunderstand my speaking of these basic matters on the present solemn, sad occasion).

To avoid any misunderstanding, let us return to the example of the Waldorf School. It is of the first importance to grasp the difference between spreading anthroposophy by means of words, in books and lectures, and concerning oneself with the welfare of the Anthroposophical Society as such. Theoretically, at least, it does not require a society to spread anthroposophy by means of books and lectures; anthroposophy is spread to a great extent by just these means, without any help from the Society. But the totality of what comprises anthroposophy today cannot exist without the Anthroposophical Society to contain it. One may be a first-rate Waldorf teacher and a first-rate spreader of anthroposophy by word and pen in addition, yet hold back from any real commitment to the Society and to the kind of relationships to one's fellow men that are an outgrowth of it anthroposophy. Must it not be admitted that though we have a superb Waldorf School and a faculty that performs far more brilliantly in both the described areas than one could possibly have expected, its members have withdrawn from real concern for and a real fostering of the Society? They came to Stuttgart, have been doing superlatively well what needed doing in both the areas mentioned, but have not committed themselves to serving the Anthroposophical Society; they have failed to take part in its fostering and development.

I beg you to take these words as they are meant. We have had people working energetically and with enthusiasm on the threefold commonwealth. The more active they became in this field, the less activity they devoted to the Society. Now we face the threat of seeing the same thing happen again in the case of able people in the Movement for Religious Renewal. Again, in an especially important area, resources of strength could be withheld from the Society. This is a source of deep anxiety, particularly because of the immeasurably great loss we have just suffered. It makes it necessary for me to speak to you today in the plainest language possible.

For clarity's sake and in order somewhat more adequately to characterize the way we need to work in the Society, I would like to point out another thing that I will have to describe quite differently. In the past four years, during which the Society has seen so much happen, there has been a development with two different aspects. This double way of evolving is characteristic both of the movement I have in mind and of the Society. I am referring to the student, or youth movement.

Let us recall how it began a short while ago. At the time it called itself the Anthroposophical Union for Higher Education. [ANTHROPOSOPHICAL UNION FOR HIGHER EDUCATION publicized in 1920 the two courses on Higher Education given at the Goetheanum in the fall of 1920 and spring of 1921.] It is hard to press these things into any sharply defined form, since they are alive and growing, but we can try. What were its founders (and more especially its godfather, Roman Boos), more or less consciously aiming at? Their goal was to bring the influence of anthroposophy to bear on study in the various scientific fields, to change and reform tendencies that those individuals active in the movement felt were going in the wrong direction. The movement was conceived as affecting what went on in classrooms in the sense that young people studying in them were to introduce a new spirit. That is the way the program adopted at that time should be described.

Then, a little later on in fact, quite recently—another movement made its appearance. I don't want to call it a counter-movement, but it differed from the earlier one. It appeared when, here in Stuttgart, a number of young students came together to foster a concern for universal humanness, humanness with a spiritual-pedagogical overtone. It was not their purpose to bring the influence of anthroposophy directly into classrooms, but instead into another setting entirely: into man's innermost being, into his heart, his spirit, his whole way of feeling. There was no talk, to put it radically, of giving a different tone to words used in the classroom; the point was rather that, here and there among the young, there needed to be some individuals who experience their present youth and their growing older with a different kind of feeling in their hearts because the impulse to do so springs from their innermost being. Since they were not just students but human beings as well, and were growing older as human beings do, they would carry their humanness, conceived in the universally human spirit of anthroposophy, into the classroom also. These young students were not concerned with academic problems encountered in classrooms, but with the young human beings in them. The place was the same in both instances, but the problems were different.

But the Anthroposophical Society can do its work properly only if it is broad-minded enough to be able to find its way to the innermost being of everyone who turns to it for help in his searching and his striving.

Among the various exercises to be found in my book, Knowledge of the Higher Worlds and its Attainment, you will discover six that are to be practiced for a certain definite period of time. One of these is the cultivation of a completely unprejudiced state of mind. Indeed, dear friends, the Anthroposophical Society as a whole needs to cultivate these six virtues, and it is essential that it strive to acquire them. It must be so broadminded that it reaches the humanness of those who turn to it, and so strong that it can meet their needs. One of the problems of the Society showed up in the fact that when I came here a short while ago and found the young people in the picture, the Society had completely withdrawn from them, making a patching up of relationships necessary.

I am speaking a bit radically, but that may help to make my meaning clearer. I wanted, in this example, to show how important it is for the Society to be able to meet life's challenges.

Now let us turn our attention to another matter. For quite some time past, able members of the Society have been at work in the most varied branches of scientific endeavor. I am truly speaking with the greatest inner and outer restraint when I say that we have absolutely top-notch scientists who are not being given the appreciation they deserve from us. They have taken on the responsibility of developing the various branches of science within the Society. In the Society's beginning phase it had to approach people purely as human beings. It simply could not branch out into a whole range of different fields; it had to limit itself to speaking to people from its innermost heart, as one human being speaks to another. Its task was first to win a certain terrain for itself in the world of human hearts before going on to cultivate any other field. Then, since anthroposophy has the capacity to fructify every aspect of culture and civilization, scientists appeared as a matter of course in the Society and were active in their fields. But again, my dear friends, it is possible for a member to be a first-rate scientist and yet ignore the Society's basic needs. A scientist can apply anthroposophical insights to chemistry and physics and the like in the most admirable way and still be a poor anthroposophist. We have seen how able scientists in these very fields have withdrawn all their strength from the parent society, that they have not helped nurture the Society as such. People who, in a simple and direct way, seek anthroposophy in the Society are sometimes disturbed to hear, in the way these scientists still speak with an undertone reminiscent of the chemical or physical fields they come from, for though chemistry, physics, biology and jurisprudence are still connected by a thread with the universally human, the connection has become remote indeed. The essential thing is not to forget the parent. If the Society had not fostered pure anthroposophy in its innermost heart for one and a half decades, the scientists would have found no place in it to do their work. Anthroposophy provided them with what they needed. Now they should consider how much their help is needed in so fostering the Society that some return is made to it for what anthroposophy has contributed to their sciences.

This will perhaps help us to look more closely at what has been going on in a wide range of activities and then to admit a fact that, though it may sound trivial, is actually anything but that. Since 1919, anthroposophy has given birth to many children, but the children have been exceedingly neglectful of their mother.

Now we have to face the frightful disaster of the fire that has left us looking, broken-hearted, at the Goetheanum ruins there in Dornach. We are also confronted by an Anthroposophical Society that, though its roster of members has recently grown a great deal longer, lacks inner stability and itself therefore somewhat resembles a ruin. Of course, we can go on holding branch meetings and hearing about anthroposophy, but everything we now have can be wiped out by our enemies in no time at all if we are not more thoughtful about the problems I have laid before you today.

So my words today have had to be the words of pain and sorrow. This has been a different occasion than those previously held here. But the events I have described and everything that has gone with them force me to end this address in words of sorrow and pain as profoundly justified as my expression of gratitude to those whose hearts and hands helped build the Goetheanum and tried to help at the fire. They are as called for, these expressions of pain, as is the recognition of everything heart-warming that our members far and near have lately been demonstrating. Their purpose is not to blame or criticize anyone, but to challenge us to search our consciences, to become aware of our responsibilities. They are not intended to make people feel depressed, but rather to summon up those forces of heart and spirit that will enable us to go on as a society, as the Anthroposophical Society. We should not let ourselves turn into groups of educators, religious renewers, scientists, groups of the young, the old, the middle-aged. We must be an anthroposophical community conscious of the sources that nourish it and all its offspring. This is something of which we must be keenly aware. Though the Dornach flames have seared our very hearts, may they also steer us to the realization that we need above all else to work together anthroposophically. Let me express this wish to you today, my dear friends, for the special fields too would lose the source of their strength if they were unmindful of their parent. We will certainly have to admit that, due to the difficulties inherent in such relationships, the parent has often been forgotten by just those of her offspring who were most obviously her progeny. But despite the fearful enmity we face, we can perhaps accomplish something if we change our ways before it is too late, as it soon may be. We must realize that we are going to have to work anthroposophically in the Anthroposophical Society, and that our chief common task is to forge a connection between man and that radiant spiritual light from heavenly worlds that seeks him out at the present moment of his evolution. This is the consciousness and this the task to which, while there is still time, we need to be steeled by the Dornach fire whose flames we feel in our very hearts.

Let us bring this about, dear friends! But let me ask you to take with all due weight as well what I have had to say to you today with a sore heart. May my words call forth the strength to work, the will to work, the will to pull together in the Anthroposophical Movement especially. Nobody should take personally the statement that he has been an outstanding contributor to the work of Der Kommende Tag, the Waldorf School faculty, the Movement for Religious Renewal, and so on. May everybody—those both in and outside special fields, the old, the young, the middle-aged—be mindful of the parent society that has brought forth and nurtured them all and in which, as a member of the Society, every specialist must join forces with everybody else. Specialization has flourished far too strongly in our midst, only to decline again because the parent was not kept sufficiently in mind. May the Dornach fire kindle our will to strengthen ourselves to serve the Anthroposophical Society and to work sincerely together with clear purpose!

Erster Vortrag

Das seit zehn Jahren im Bau begriffene Goetheanum in Dornach ist nicht mehr. Die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft hat diesen Bau verloren. Sie hat damit außerordentlich viel verloren. Man muß sich nur klarmachen, was aus der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft durch den Bau des Goetheanums geworden ist, und man wird, wenn man die Größe des Verlustes in der richtigen Art sich allmählich vor Augen führt, auch die Größe des Schmerzes ermessen, für die es keine Worte gibt, die Größe jenes Schmerzes, der uns geworden ist durch die furchtbare Brandkatastrophe in der Neujahrsnacht 1922 auf 1923. Bis zu dem Zeitpunkte, wo wir 1913 den Grundstein zum Dornacher Goetheanum legen konnten, war die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft als Hüterin der anthroposophischen Bewegung in einem gewissen Gebiete der Welt durch ihre einzelnen Zweige verbreitet. Und aus dem Schoße dieser Gesellschaft heraus ist ja dann der Impuls entstanden, einen eigenen Zentralbau aufzurichten. Vielleicht wird man gerade hier doppelt all das durchempfinden können, was die gesamte Anthroposophische Gesellschaft erleidet, indem sie diesen Zentralbau verloren hat. Denn hier in Stuttgart ging die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft mit jenem Bau voran, in dem wir seit vielen Jahren schon unsere Tätigkeit entfalten dürfen. Daher wird man hier wissen, was es heißt, von einem eigenen, der anthroposophischen Bewegung würdigen Baurahmen umgeben zu sein.

Die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft war, bis aus ihr der Impuls entstand, in Dornach einen Zentralbau aufzuführen, darauf angewiesen, lediglich durch ihre Versammlungen zu wirken — Stuttgart ist durch die schon erwähnte Tatsache ja davon ausgenommen -, sie war angewiesen darauf, gewissermaßen lediglich das Wort dafür zu haben, von der heute durch die Menschheitsentwickelung notwendig gewordenen Verbindung des Menschen mit der geistigen Welt zu sprechen. Nun, gewiß wird immer diese Art, durch das Wort für die anthroposophische Bewegung zu wirken, die wichtigste, die bedeutungsvollste, die unerläßlichste auf diesem Gebiete sein. Aber mit dem Bau des Goetheanums war noch etwas anderes möglich. Es war möglich geworden, durch die künstlerischen Formen, die ja als rein künstlerische beim Goetheanumbau angestrebt worden waren, ich möchte sagen, zu der großen Welt zu sprechen. Gewiß, wer in unserer Gegenwart nicht Sinn und Gefühl hat für dasjenige, was Anthroposophie durch das Wort verkünden kann, wird auch nicht Sinn und Empfindung haben können für solche künstlerischen Formen, wie sie in Dornach am Bau des Goetheanums sichtbar geworden waren. Aber dennoch muß man sagen, daß schon einmal, entsprechend den Sympathien der Menschen, in dieser unserer Gegenwart das Auge leichter sich hinlenkt auf dasjenige, was zu sehen ist, als die Seele durch innere Aktivität auf dasjenige, was zu hören ist. Und so war gerade durch den Dornacher Bau die Möglichkeit, von der heute der Menschheit notwendigen Geistigkeit zu sprechen, in einem unermeßlichen Umfang vergrößert worden. Durch das Goetheanum ist tatsächlich von den Geheimnissen der geistigen Welt zu einer unbegrenzt viel größeren Menge von Menschen gesprochen worden, gesprochen worden durch sichtbare Formen und das sichtbare Werk, als jemals früher hat gesprochen werden können durch das Wort. Und ein für allemal ist durch das Dornacher Goetheanum vor allen denjenigen, welche nur einigen guten Willen hatten, mit Unbefangenheit auf dieses Goetheanum und die dahinterstehende Anthroposophie zu schauen, erwiesen worden, daß die Anthroposophie nichts Sektiererisches ihrem Wesen nach ist, daß sie erfassen will die große Aufgabe unserer Gegenwart, die darinnen besteht, die der Menschheit nunmehr zugänglich gewordenen Strahlen eines neuen Geisteslichtes aufzufangen und in die menschlichen Kultur- und Zivilisationsmittel hineinzuprägen. Gegenüber einzelnen Versammlungen in beliebig hierzu gewählten Lokalen konnte unter Umständen auch der Unbefangene von einer sektiererischen Bewegung sprechen. Gegenüber jener Sorgfalt, mit der in Dornach versucht worden ist, jede Symbolik, jede Allegorik in den Bau- und Kunstformen zu vermeiden und ausströmen zu lassen den anthroposophischen Impuls in rein wirkliche Kunst, gegenüber diesem Streben war es nicht möglich, weiter bei gutem Willen von einer anthroposophischen Sekte zu sprechen. Man mußte erkennen, daß Anthroposophie etwas durchaus Allgemein-Menschliches will, keine Art von Absonderung pflegen will, sondern dasjenige suchen will für die Gegenwart, was ganz allgemein menschlich auf jedem Gebiete des menschlichen Sinnens und Schaffens in der Gegenwart ist. Und so war dieses Goetheanum, das jetzt als Ruine anzuschauen einen so furchtbar niederschmetternden Eindruck macht, ein mächtiges Mittel für die anthroposophische Bewegung geworden, um auszusprechen, was diese ihrem wahren Wesen nach eigentlich ist. Und wir haben ja versucht, in jede einzelne Form, in jedes einzelneBild einzuführen alles dasjenige, was in diesem allgemeinen Impuls, den ich jetzt eben ausgesprochen habe, gelegen war. Wir haben versucht, reine Kunst zu geben, weil reine, wahre Kunst durchaus im Wesen des anthroposophischen Impulses liegt. Und so konnte gerade durch das Goetheanum auch für Menschen, die nichts von der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft wissen wollten, über die heilige Angelegenheit dieser Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft gesprochen werden.

Das ist durch nahezu zehn Jahre geschehen. Das ist nunmehr in einer Nacht unmöglich geworden. Man braucht diese zwei Sätze nur nebeneinander zu sagen, und man wird in all diejenigen Empfindungen hineingedrängt, für deren Ausdruck es eben Worte wirklich nicht gibt. Demgegenüber ist natürlich all das klein, was man heute anführen kann von zehnjähriger Arbeit und zehnjährigen Sorgen; denn klein schließlich ist diese Arbeit und klein sind diese Sorgen gegenüber dem unersetzlichen Verlust eines bedeutsamsten Offenbarungsmittels für die anthroposophische Bewegung.

Nun, wenn heute das Goetheanum nicht mehr ist, so entsteht ja gewiß in jedem, der dieses Goetheanum lieb gehabt hat, der an diesem Goetheanum mit einem echten Verständnis gehangen hat, der Wunsch, dieses Goetheanum in irgendeiner Form wieder aufzubauen. Allein man darf gerade im Hinblick auf den Gedanken des Wiederaufbaues nicht vergessen, daß zehn Jahre über diesen Bau hinweggegangen sind und daß es in einem gewissen Sinne auch im Wesen der anthroposophischen Bewegung liegt, Gegner zu haben. Dieses, was die Gegnerschaft der anthroposophischen Bewegung bedeutet, wir sehen es ja wieder jetzt in den Tagen unseres Schmerzes. Es muß auf der einen Seite gesagt werden, daß es sich gerade angesichts der Katastrophe gezeigt hat, wie viele wirkliche Freunde die anthroposophische Bewegung durch das Goetheanum gewonnen hat. Denn außer den von mir mit so innigem Dank aufgenommenen Kundgebungen des Leides und des Schmerzes anläßlich der Katastrophe aus den Kreisen der anthroposophischen Freunde haben wir vieles zu verzeichnen von Menschen, die außerhalb des Kreises der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft sich immer gehalten haben und die nunmehr sich ausgesprochen haben über ihre Mitanteilnahme an dieser furchtbaren Katastrophe. Viel Liebe zu unserer Sache hat sich bei dieser Gelegenheit gezeigt.

Im Grunde ist ja der Dornacher Bau durch Liebe aufgebaut. Im Grunde ist er im Zeichen der Liebe zugrunde gegangen. Er konnte ja nur aufgebaut werden durch die grenzenlose Opferwilligkeit derjenigen Persönlichkeiten, die sich dazumal schon, als der Bau unternommen wurde, 1913, durch eine gewisse Zeit der anthroposophischen Bewegung hingegeben hatten. Materielle Opfer, Opfer des Geistes, Opfer der Arbeit sind in unermeßlicher Art gebracht worden. Und zusammengefunden haben sich in Dornach viele Freunde der anthroposophischen Sache, um in der allerselbstlosesten Weise an dem Zustandekommen dieses Baues mitzuwirken.

Und es kam der furchtbare Krieg. Wenn auch das Tempo des Aufbaues des Goetheanums während des furchtbaren Krieges sich wesentlich verlangsamt hatte, eine Bresche in den Geist anthroposophischen Zusammenwirkens ist dadurch eigentlich nicht geschlagen worden. Die Dornacher Baustätte war tatsächlich innerhalb von Völkerfeindschaft und Völkerkampf eine Stätte, auf der Repräsentanten einer großen Anzahl einander bekriegender europäischer Nationen in friedvoller Arbeit, in liebevollem Miteinanderfühlen zusammen arbeiteten und zusammen dachten und zusammen wirkten. Und vielleicht darf es ohne Unbescheidenheit gesagt werden: die Liebe, die in diesen Bau hineingebaut worden ist, sie darf gezeigt werden, wenn einmal gesprochen werden wird in kulturhistorischem Sinne von demjenigen, was an Wellen des Hasses zwischen den Jahren 1914 und 1918 in der zivilisierten Menschheit entfacht worden ist. In Dornach waltete, während ringsherum überall der Haß wütete, wirkliche Liebe und wurde in den Bau hineingebaut. Es war jene Liebe, die aus dem Geiste kommt. Denn Anthroposophie trägt ihren Namen ganz zweifellos mit Recht: sie ist nicht bloß eine Erkenntnis wie andere Erkenntnisse. Mit dem Herannahen ihrer Ideen, mit dem Herannahen ihrer Worte ist etwas anderes gemeint als theoretische, abstrakte Erkenntnis. Ideen werden in der Anthroposophie nicht so gestaltet wie seit drei, vier, fünf Jahrhunderten auf dem Erkenntnisgebiete sonst Ideen gestaltet werden; Worte werden in ihr nicht so geprägt, wie heute auf andern Gebieten Worte geprägt werden. Ideen sind für Anthroposophie die aus Liebe gezimmerten Gefäße, in welche hereingeholt wird aus geistigen Welten auf geistige Art das menschliche Wesen. Von liebevoll geprägten Gedanken umhüllt soll leuchten durch Anthroposophie das Licht wahren Menschentums. Und Erkenntnis ist nur die Form, wie durch den Menschen die Möglichkeit gegeben werden soll, daß der wahre Geist aus Weltenweiten in menschlichen Herzen sich sammle, damit er von Menschenherzen aus die menschlichen Gedanken durchleuchten könne. Und weil wirklich Anthroposophie nur von der Liebe erfaßt werden kann, deshalb ist sie liebeschaffend, wenn sie in ihrer wahren Art von Menschen ergriffen wird. Deshalb konnte inmitten des wütenden Hasses eine Stätte der Liebe in Dornach gebaut werden. Und Worte, sie werden auf anthroposophischem Gebiet nicht so geprägt, wie sonst in der Gegenwart Worte geprägt werden. Worte werden geprägt, indem sie alle eigentlich Bitten sind. Jedes Wort in der Anthroposophie ist im Grunde genommen, wenn es in richtigem Sinne gesprochen wird, eine Bitte, eine andächtige Bitte: die Bitte, daß der Geist zu den Menschen herabkommen möge.

Und aus solcher Andacht heraus ist der Bau in Dornach aufgeführt worden. Liebe ist in ihn hineingebaut worden, und die Liebe unserer Freunde hat wiederum opferwillig gewirkt während der Brandnacht. Da war in Liebe metamorphosierter Geist vorhanden.

Nun ist es mir unmöglich, in dieser Zeit zu sprechen von demjenigen, was, ich möchte sagen, im tieferen geistigen Sinne über die Brandkatastrophe in Dornach zu sagen wäre. Ich möchte es nicht abweisen, wenn irgend jemand aus seinem Herzen heraus die Frage aufwürfe: Wie steht es doch auf der einen Seite mit der Gerechtigkeit der Weltenmächte, die keinen Schutz gegeben haben gegen diese furchtbare Katastrophe? Ich möchte es auch nicht abweisen, wenn etwa gesagt würde: War denn diese Katastrophe nicht vorauszusehen? Allein das sind Fragen, die in das tiefste Gebiet der Esoterik hineinführen, und über sie zu sprechen ist heute aus dem Grunde unmöglich, weil es keine Stätte mehr gibt, in der man in unbefangener Weise über solche tieferen Gründe sich aussprechen kann, ohne daß dieses sogleich hinausgetragen würde durch undichte Wände zu solchen Menschen, die die Dinge nur wiederum zum Schmieden von Waffen gegen die anthroposophische Bewegung gebrauchen. Und so ist mir heute das Wort genommen, über tiefere geistige Zusammenhänge in dieser Beziehung zu sprechen.

Aber dem, was sich auf der einen Seite, ich möchte sagen, in Liebe gegossen gezeigt hat, demgegenüber tritt sogleich in starker Weise die Gegnerschaft auf. Von allen Seiten her hagelt es gerade angesichts unseres Unglückes von Spott, Hohn, Haß, und dasjenige, in das immer so viel von dieser Gegnerschaft getaucht war, objektive Unwahrheit, das zeigt sich insbesondere jetzt, wo die Gegnerschaft aus allen Luken heraus kommt und Anlaß nimmt, selbst dem Unglück gegenüber mit der objektiven Unwahrheit zu kommen. Unsere Freunde haben redlich gearbeitet an der Rettung desjenigen, was eben nicht zu retten war. Gegner finden es aber zum Beispiel geschmackvoll, zu sagen: Diese Anthroposophen, man sah ihren Charakter bei Gelegenheit des Brandes, sie hielten sich in der Nähe auf und beteten, damit das Feuer von selber aufhören würde! - Ich will nur diese kleine Probe aus all dem Spott und Hohn hervorheben, der gerade in Anknüpfung an diese Katastrophe uns entgegentönt.

Nun, ich habe ja, ich darf sagen, seit Jahren darauf hingewiesen, daß wir mit einer immer sich vergrößernden Gegnerschaft rechnen müssen und daß Wachsamkeit gegenüber dieser sich vergrößernden Gegnerschaft unsere heiligste Pflicht ist. Schmerzlich war es mir immer, wenn von irgendeiner Seite her ausgesprochen wurde: Nach dieser oder jener Richtung scheinen sich die Gegner beruhigt zu haben. - So etwas hing zusammen mit der nun leider stark verbreiteten Illusionsfähigkeit in unseren Kreisen. Möge das furchtbare Unglück, das uns getroffen hat, unseren lieben Freunden wenigstens diese Illusionsfähigkeit nehmen und den Glauben beibringen, daß das Zusammennehmen aller starken Kräfte unseres Geistes und unseres Herzens notwendig ist für die Behauptung der anthroposophischen Bewegung. Denn wenn heute der Wunsch auftaucht, so etwas wie ein Goetheanum wiederum zu erbauen, so ist es vor allen Dingen notwendig, daß wir uns bewußt sind: Ohne eine dahinterstehende starke, energische Anthroposophische Gesellschaft ist ein solcher Wiederaufbau ohne Sinn. Der Wiederaufbau hat nur einen Sinn, wenn hinter ihm eine ihrer selbst bewußte, ihrer Pflichten eingedenke, starke Anthroposophische Gesellschaft steht. Demgegenüber darf aber nicht vergessen werden, welches die Bedingungen für das Bestehen einer solchen starken Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft sind. Und schließen wir in diesem ernsten, ich darf vielleicht sagen, ernst-feierlichen Momente an das Gesagte einige Worte der Art an, wie zu denken ist über eine starke, ihrer Pflichten bewußte Anthroposophische Gesellschaft gerade in diesen Tagen.

Meine lieben Freunde, bis zum Jahre 1918 bestand die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft, ich möchte sagen, als ein Gefäß des Geistesstromes, der in unserem Zeitalter nach der Meinung der führenden anthroposophischen Mitglieder zu der Menschheit kommen soll. Bis zum Jahre 1918 war zu dem hinzugetreten das, was aus dem anthroposophischen Mittelpunkt, aus anthroposophischem Denken, Fühlen und Wollen allein herausgebildet war. Und wenn auch der Bau in Dornach all dasjenige war, wovon ich heute gesprochen habe, wenn er auch ein Wahrzeichen der anthroposophischen Bewegung in einem viel weiteren Sinne war, als das Wort es sein kann, so muß doch gesagt werden, bis in seine kleinsten Einzelheiten hinein entsprang er aus dem Zentrum der anthroposophischen Impulse heraus. Aber Anthroposophie ist nicht die Angelegenheit eines sich absondernden Menschenkreises, sie ist eben das Gegenteil alles Sektiererischen ihrem Wesen nach. Und deshalb ist sie fähig, das, was sie aus ihrem Zentrum heraus gestaltet, doch auf den verschiedensten Gebieten des Lebens fruchtbar zu machen. In den schweren Zeiten, die der vorläufigen Beendigung des europäischen Krieges folgten, fanden sich Freunde der anthroposophischen Bewegung, die zunächst das Unglück auf den verschiedensten Gebieten des Lebens sahen und sahen, wie neue Impulse auf den verschiedensten Gebieten des Lebens notwendig sind. Und es entstand seit 1919 im Anschluß an die anthroposophische Bewegung mancherlei auf eine andere Art, als es entstanden wäre, wenn Anthroposophie in derselben Bewegungsart, in demselben Bewegungswesen fortgeschritten wäre, die sie bis zum Jahre 1918 eingehalten hat. Es ist zweifellos so, daß Anthroposophie berufen ist, in die verschiedensten Gebiete des Lebens hineinzuwirken, selbstverständlich auch in alle diejenigen, die in Verknüpfung mit ihr seit dem Jahre 1919 durch verschiedene Freunde der Anthroposophie haben fruchtbar gepflegt werden sollen. Aber die äußeren Ereignisse haben in einer gewissen Weise dazu geführt, daß die Dinge nicht unmittelbar aus der Anthroposophie herausgeholt worden sind, sondern daß sie - allerdings durchaus nicht im anthroposophischen Sinne — gewissermaßen neben der Anthroposophie begründet und gepflegt worden sind. Und so haben wir seit 1919 verschiedenes gesehen, das nicht unanthroposophisch, aber neben der Anthroposophie in einer andern Bewegungsart gepflegt wurde, als aus dem Fortgange der anthroposophischen Bewegung bis 1918 auf elementare Weise gefolgt war. Das ist eine außerordentlich wichtige Tatsache, und ich möchte Sie bitten, mich, indem ich heute gerade über diese Ereignisse zu sprechen habe - verpflichtet bin zu sprechen -, ja nicht mißzuverstehen.

Ich rede selbstverständlich nicht über dasjenige in seiner inneren Gediegenheit, was auf die Art im Zusammenhang mit der anthroposophischen Bewegung entstanden ist, wie etwa der «Kommende Tag» oder ähnliches, was in seinen eigenen Bedingungen lebt, zwar im Zusammenhang mit der anthroposophischen Bewegung entstanden ist, aber eben besondere Existenzbedingungen hat. Daher ist dasjenige, was ich in den folgenden Sätzen zu sagen habe, nicht anwendbar etwa auf solche Begründungen; darf daher nicht so mißverstanden werden, als ob dadurch im Allergeringsten etwas gesagt wäre über den Wert dieser auf materiellem Gebiete befindlichen Gründungen, die allerdings gehalten sein wollen in jenem Geist, der mit der anthroposophischen Bewegung durchaus vereinbar ist. Was ich spreche, soll lediglich sich beziehen auf die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft als solche, auf die Arbeit innerhalb der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft, für die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft und so weiter. Diese anthroposophische Bewegung, die in der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft zum Teil verankert ist, hat ja gerade hier in Stuttgart den Beweis liefern können, daß sie ihrem Wesen nach etwas Allgemein-Menschliches ist, daß sie nicht irgendeinem geistigen Parteiprogramm oder dergleichen entspringt, daß sie entspringt aus dem ganzen Umfassenden der menschlichen Natur. Und der Unbefangene wird vielleicht doch einsehen, daß dieser Beweis für diese allgemein menschliche Wesenheit der Anthroposophie gerade hier in Stuttgart auf einem Gebiete erbracht worden ist. Er ist erbracht worden auf dem Gebiete der Pädagogik, der Didaktik durch die Waldorfschule. Er ist dadurch erbracht worden, daß die Waldorfschule nicht ist eine Anthroposophie-Schule, sondern daß die Waldorfschule das Problem lösen will: Wie erzieht und unterrichtet man am besten Menschen aus dem ganzen Umfassenden aller menschlichen Anlagen heraus? Wie entwickelt man durch Erziehung und Unterricht Menschen? — Und Anthroposophie soll den Weg angeben, wie dieses Problem gelöst werden kann. Eine Sekte, eine Partei hätte eine Anthroposophie-Schule begründet, nicht eine allgemein menschliche Schule. Und es kann eigentlich nicht stark genug hingewiesen werden auf diesen allgemeinen Menschheitscharakter, der angestrebt wird gerade durch die Waldorfschule. Hier erscheint es so, daß man sagen kann: Dem, der wirklich im echten Geiste zur Anthroposophie sich bekennt, dem ist der Name Anthroposophie ganz gleichgültig, ihm kommt es auf die Sache an. Die Sache aber ist eine ganz allgemein menschliche, und sie kann, indem sie an ein bestimmtes Gebiet herantritt, eben nur im Sinn des allgemeinsten Menschentums wirken. Jede Sekte, jede Partei, wenn sie schulgründend auftreten kann, ob die Sekte nun Adventisten- oder Monistenbund heißt, jede Sekte begründet, wenn sie eine Schule begründet, eine Sektenschule. Anthroposophie kann das ihrem Wesen nach nicht. Anthroposophie kann nur etwas Allgemein-Menschliches begründen. Das liegt in ihrem Wesen. Und wer heute eben angesichts auch solcher Tatsachen die anthroposophische Bewegung noch wie eine sektiererische behandelt, der kann das nur entweder aus Unachtsamkeit oder Böswilligkeit tun. Gerade an der Waldorfschule ist hier in Stuttgart der Beweis geliefert worden, daß Anthroposophie eine allgemeine Menschheitssache ist.

Das aber sollte im Grunde tief berücksichtigt werden auch innerhalb des Kreises der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft. Die Art und Weise, wie die Waldorfschule begründet wurde, der Geist, aus dem heraus sie begründet wurde, über den sollte man innerhalb der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft nachdenken. Und man sollte eigentlich, wenn man im Zusammenhang mit der anthroposophischen Bewegung oder Gesellschaft irgend etwas begründet, darauf sehen, daß das in diesem Geiste geschehe. So darf vielleicht gesagt werden: Sowohl im Bau des Goetheanums in Dornach wie in der Begründung der Waldorfschule und in der Art und Weise, wie die Waldorfschule geführt wird, liegt ausgesprochen die Art, wie Anthroposophie für die einzelnen Kulturgebiete tätig sein will.

Ich führe also an - ich möchte das noch einmal sagen, damit ich nicht mißverstanden werde - zum Beispiel den Kommenden Tag als etwas, was von meinen folgenden Worten nicht berührt wird, weil es durch seine eigenen Daseinsbedingungen seinen Wert in sich trägt. Ich will nur sprechen von demjenigen, was innerhalb der anthroposophischen Bewegung durch anthroposophische Tätigkeit sich vollzieht oder zu vollziehen hat, und ich möchte besonders stark darauf hinweisen, daß die anthroposophische Bewegung ihrerseits gerade an der Waldorfschule hat zeigen können, wie sie nicht im engen Sinne parteiegoistisch oder sektenegoistisch wirkt, sondern wie sie im allgemeinen Menschheitssinne so wirkt, daß man gewissermaßen ihren Kindern nicht mehr ansieht, aus welchem Quell sie entsprungen sind, weil sie in das Allgemein-Menschliche hineinwachsen. Man hat nicht nötig, gegenüber der Waldorfschule zu fragen: Ist sie aus Anthroposophie entsprungen?Man hat nur nötig zu fragen: Erzieht sie und unterrichtet sie Kinder so, wie der Mensch erzogen und unterrichtet werden soll? - Und so muß man sagen, metamorphosiert sich in ihrer Arbeit, in ihrer Tätigkeit Anthroposophie in das Wesen des Allgemein-Menschlichen. Aber gerade, wenn das der Fall sein soll, gerade wenn Anthroposophie bauend auf den verschiedensten Gebieten in der richtigen Weise wirksam sein soll, dann muß sie nicht wegen ihrer selbst, aber ich möchte sagen, wegen ihrer Kinder ein Feld haben, auf dem sie in ihrer Reinheit energisch gepflegt wird, ein Feld haben, auf dem man sich als Anthroposoph seiner Pflichten für die Gesellschaft voll bewußt ist. Nur so kann Anthroposophie die richtige Mutter sein für die verschiedensten Kinder auf den verschiedensten Kultur- und Zivilisationsgebieten. Es muß die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft Menschen vereinigen, welche es im tiefsten, heiligsten Sinne ernst meinen mit der Pflege der anthroposophischen Sache. Nun, das ist schwierig. Viele glauben, das sei leicht. Es ist in einem gewissen Sinne schwierig, und die Schwierigkeiten sind eben seit 1919 in ganz starkem Maße insbesondere auch hier in Stuttgart zutage getreten. Denn, haben wir auf der einen Seite in der Waldorfschule etwas, das, wenigstens bis heute, den eben besprochenen Charakter, der ganz im Wesen der Anthroposophie liegt, bewahrt hat, so haben wir auf der andern Seite gerade hier gesehen, wie außerordentlich schwierig es ist, mit der Mutter, mit der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft als solcher, ich möchte sagen, im richtigen Verhältnis zu bleiben. Es ist das vielleicht ein zunächst paradox klingender Satz. Allein, wenn ich dasjenige, was ich meine, näher ausführe, so werde ich vielleicht doch auf diesem Gebiete auch verstanden werden.

Ich kann jetzt diese Sachen besprechen, ohne daß ich über den Wert dieser verschiedensten Bewegungen, die in Verknüpfung mit der Anthroposophie seit 1919 entstanden sind, das Geringste sage, denn ich spreche nur in bezug auf die Zurückwirkung auf die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft. Es darf also niemand meine Worte so verdrehen oder mißdeuten, als ob ich über den Wert der einzelnen Begründungen sprechen würde, ich spreche nur über die Rückwirkung auf die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft. Diese Begründungen, welche entstanden sind, sie sind von denjenigen, die sie vertreten, nicht immer so aufgefaßt worden, daß, ich möchte sagen, in einem modernen geistigen Sinn das Wort empfunden wird: Du sollst deine Mutter und deinen Vater ehren, auf daß es dir wohlergehe auf Erden. - Denn es wirken ja innerhalb solcher Begründungen durchaus auch und zwar zumeist Mitglieder der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft. Nun ist die Frage: Sind diese Mitglieder der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft, die auf einem solchen in Verknüpfung mit ihr entstandenen Gebiet wirken, trotzdem sie die ausgezeichnetsten Leute auf diesem Gebiet sind, auch immer eingedenk der Mutter in der rechten Weise? Wirken sie von ihrem Gebiet aus auf die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft in der rechten Weise zurück? Diese Frage ist ganz verschieden von der, ob die Betreffenden auf ihren Gebieten ausgezeichnete Menschen seien oder nicht. Wenn ich mich besonders radikal ausdrücken soll, so müßte ich ja folgendes sagen: Es kann zum Beispiel jemand ein ganz ausgezeichneter WaldorfschulLehrer sein, ganz in dem Geiste, in dem die Waldorfschule begründet worden ist aus dem Sinn der anthroposophischen Bewegung heraus als eine allgemeine Menschheitssache, er kann so ausgezeichnet als möglich seine Stelle als Waldorfschul-Lehrer aus diesem Geiste heraus ausfüllen, die Waldorfschule kann gerade dadurch, daß sie keine AnthroposophieSchule ist, aus dem Geiste der Anthroposophie heraus gestaltet sein und wirken. Der einzelne Waldorfschul-Lehrer kann darin ausgezeichnet an seinem Platz sein, aber er kann doch nicht in genügendem Sinne wirken als Anthroposoph für die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft. Ich sage nicht, daß das in dem einen oder andern Falle so ist, ich will nur begreiflich machen, daß das so sein kann. Der einzelne, sagen wir im Kommenden Tag Wirkende, kann ein ausgezeichneter Beamter des Kommenden Tages sein, er kann den Kommenden Tag in schönste Blüte bringen, und er kann - ich will das so sagen - ein durchaus Unzulängliches auf dem Gebiete der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft bewirken! Dadurch aber, daß man gewissermaßen der Mutter nicht gibt, was der Mutter sein muß, damit auch alle die Kinder in der richtigen Weise versorgt werden können, dadurch entsteht die allerschwerste Sorge für die anthroposophische Bewegung, wirklich die allerschwerste Sorge.

Meine lieben Freunde, das war es, was auf einem besonderen Gebiete mir das Wort aus dem Mund gepreßt hat bei meinem vorletzten im Goetheanum gehaltenen Vortrag über die Bewegung für religiöse Erneuerung. Diese Bewegung für religiöse Erneuerung werde ich doch ganz gewiß nicht in irgendeiner Weise kritisieren wollen, denn sie ist vor dreieinhalb Monaten in die Wirklichkeit getreten aus meinen eigenen Ratschlägen heraus, und es ist ja das natürlichste, daß ich selber diese Bewegung so ansehen muß, daß ich die tiefste Befriedigung habe, wenn sie gedeiht. Ich meine, darüber kann gar kein Zweifel sein. Dennoch aber mußte ich schon nach diesen dreieinhalb Monaten der Wirksamkeit zu dem Wort greifen, das in Dornach dazumal an die Adresse nicht der religiösen Erneuerungsbewegung, sondern an die Adresse der Anthroposophen gerichtet war, natürlich auch der Anthroposophen, die innerhalb der religiösen Erneuerungsbewegung stehen. Und dieses Wort konnte nicht anders lauten, als daß es eine Umschreibung war: Man freue sich der Tochter, aber man vergesse der Mutter nicht, vergesse nicht, daß die Mutter auch gehegt und gepflegt sein muß. - Dieses Hegens und Pflegens der Mutter muß sowohl die Bewegung für religiöse Erneuerung eingedenk sein, müssen aber insbesondere die Anthroposophen eingedenk sein, welche innerhalb der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft leben.

Denn, kann es auch nur im Entferntesten gesagt werden, daß der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft ihr Recht widerfährt - ich meine jetzt Recht nicht im juristischen Sinne natürlich -, wenn Anthroposophen sich von ihr abwenden, zu einer Tochterbewegung hinwenden, nicht in dem Sinn, daß sie sagen: Wir sind verwachsen mit der anthroposophischen Bewegung, wir können also am besten raten bei einer Tochterbewegung, wir können am besten beistehen dieser Tochterbewegung -, sondern wenn Anthroposophen mit der Gesinnung sich abwenden von der anthroposophischen Bewegung, daß sie sagen: Jetzt haben wir das Wahre, was wir innerhalb der Anthroposophie niemals haben finden können! — Es handelt sich ja wirklich in diesem Punkte um eine Gesinnungs-, um eine Empfindungs-, um eine Gefühlssache. Und so sehr man sich zu freuen hat, wenn die Mutter sich der Tochter annimmt, so stark muß aber auch aufmerksam gemacht werden, daß auch die Tochter nicht gedeiht, ohne daß die Mutter nicht gehegt und gepflegt wird. Wenn also irgendwo sichtbar würde, daß diejenigen, welche innerhalb der Bewegung für religiöse Erneuerung als Anthroposophen stehen, unzulängliche Mitglieder der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft würden, so würde eben derselbe Fall eintreten, wie wenn irgend jemand, der innerhalb der Waldorfschule als ein ausgezeichneter Lehrer wirkt, in unzulänglichem Sinne anthroposophisch innerhalb der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft wirkt. Dieses Schicksal aber, das erleben wir eben doch, wenn es auch so vielfach nicht bemerkt wird, seit dem Jahre 1919.

Wir haben, und zwar aus guten Intentionen heraus, begründen sehen den «Bund für Dreigliederung des sozialen Organismus». Er hat ein gutes Stück dazu beigetragen, den Impuls für Dreigliederung nicht hinauszutragen in andere Kreise, die nicht anthroposophisch noch sind, sondern ihn hineinzustoßen als einen Keil in die anthroposophische Bewegung, die im Grunde genommen aus einem viel tieferen Wesen heraus all das schon hatte, was in der Dreigliederung lag in ganz exoterischer, äußerlicher Weise. Und wir haben es schon erleben müssen, daß eifrig, intensiv auf dem Gebiete der Dreigliederungsarbeit arbeitende Anthroposophen schlechtere Mitglieder der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft geworden sind, als sie früher waren. Und das ist, möchte ich sagen, seit vier Jahren unser Schicksal. Es muß dieses Schicksal charakterisiert werden, weil ja eine starke und energische Anthroposophische Gesellschaft da sein muß, wenn überhaupt mit einiger Berechtigung an den Wiederaufbau des Goetheanums gedacht werden soll. Es muß daran erinnert werden, daß dieses gerade, ich möchte sagen, urphänomenal bedeutsam ist, daß hier in Stuttgart angefangen wurde, auf den verschiedensten Gebieten ausgezeichnet zu arbeiten. Aber, wenn wir die Dinge wirklichkeitsgemäß fassen, so dürfen wir uns ja etwa die folgende Frage vorlegen - bitte, mißverstehen Sie mich ja nicht, denn es nützt nichts, wenn ich heute nicht, ich möchte sagen, aus den Fundamenten heraus rede angesichts des heilig-feierlich-ernsten, aber auch traurigen Momentes —, nehmen wir, um ja nicht mißverstanden zu werden, gerade das Beispiel der Waldorfschule. Da müssen wir uns folgendes sagen: Wir müssen uns den Unterschied klarmachen, der da besteht zwischen der Verbreitung der Anthroposophie durch Wort und Schrift, durch Vorträge und Bücher - und der Pflege der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft. Um Anthroposophie zu verbreiten durch Wort und Schrift, ist ja zunächst theoretisch gar nicht eine Anthroposophische Gesellschaft notwendig, und vielfach wird Anthroposophie verbreitet durch Wort und Schrift ohne Anthroposophische Gesellschaft. Aber das Ganze, was heute mit Anthroposophie einmal verbunden ist, kann nicht bestehen ohne Anthroposophische Gesellschaft, braucht die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft als ihr Gefäß. Nun kann man ein ausgezeichneter Waldorfschul-Lehrer sein, ein ausgezeichneter Pädagoge da oben in der Waldorfschule, kann nebenbei ein ausgezeichneter Verbreiter der Anthroposophie in Wort und Schrift sein, kann aber seine Tätigkeit entziehen dem Hegen und Pflegen der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft beziehungsweise überhaupt dem von Mensch zu Mensch Wirkenden aus der Anthroposophie heraus. Und muß denn nicht gesagt werden: Wir haben eine ausgezeichnete Waldorfschule, wir haben an dieser Waldorfschule ausgezeichnet wirkende Persönlichkeiten, die in viel glänzenderer Weise, als man nur erwarten kann, für beides ihren Mann stellen - oder man muß in diesem Zusammenhang auch sagen, ihre Frau stellen -, die aber für dieses eigentliche Hegen und Pflegen der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft uns ihre Kraft entzogen haben. Sie kamen nach Stuttgart her, taten nach diesen beiden Seiten, die ich charakterisiert habe, in glänzender Weise ihre Dienste, aber sie stellten sie nicht in den Dienst der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft, sie nahmen nicht teil an dem Hegen und Pflegen der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft.

Ich bitte, gerade heute meine Worte ganz genau hinzunehmen. Wir haben energisch wirkende, begeisterte Leute gehabt auf dem Gebiet der Dreigliederungsbewegung; sie haben, indem sie auf dem Gebiet der Dreigliederungsbewegung tätig waren, immer mehr und mehr entzogen ihre Tätigkeit der eigentlichen Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft. Und jetzt droht uns das, daß auf dem Gebiet der religiösen Erneuerung in einer vielleicht ganz glänzenden Weise durch ausgezeichnete Persönlichkeiten gewirkt wird, und es könnte wiederum, und jetzt auf einem besonders bedeutsamen Gebiet, das geschehen, daß wiederum der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft die Kräfte entzogen werden. Das ist dasjenige, was so schwere Sorge macht gerade angesichts des unermeßlichen Unglücks, das uns getroffen, und was notwendig macht, mit aller Deutlichkeit von den Dingen heute zu sprechen.

Ich möchte, um ja nicht undeutlich zu werden, um das Wesen des Wirkens in der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft selber einigermaßen genügend zu charakterisieren, noch auf etwas anderes hinweisen, das ich in ganz anderer Weise charakterisieren muß als das bisher Anzuführende. Wir haben in den letzten vier Jahren, in denen die Schicksale der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft so mannigfaltige waren, eine gewisse Bewegung auf zweifache Art sich entwickeln sehen. Und gerade diese zweifache Art, in der sie sich entwickelt hat, ist für diese Bewegung außerordentlich charakteristisch und charakteristisch für die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft: das ist die studentische Jugendbewegung. Erinnern wir uns einmal, wie die studentische Jugendbewegung vor einiger Zeit entstanden ist. Sie nannte sich dazumal der Anthroposophische Hochschulbund. Solche Dinge lassen sich natürlich, weil sie im Leben stehen, nicht ohne einen Zwang in feste, scharf umrissene Begriffe fangen, aber einigermaßen muß man eben das doch versuchen. Was wurde mehr oder weniger bewußt von den Anteilnehmern an .diesem Anthroposophischen Hochschulbund namentlich durch diejenige Persönlichkeit, die dazumal bei seiner Begründung so stark Pate stand, durch Roman Boos, was wurde da angestrebt? Es wurde angestrebt, von anthroposophischer Seite her das Studium der einzelnen Wissenschaften zu beeinflussen, zu gestalten, umzugestalten gegenüber gewissen, von den Trägern der Bewegung empfundenen Mißständen. Die Bewegung wurde gedacht so, daß sie hineinwirken sollte, man möchte sagen, in die Hörsäle, daß in den Hörsälen durch die Tätigkeit der studierenden Jugend ein Geist sich geltend mache, der eben in Hörsälen wirke. Nur so konnte dasjenige, was dazumal programmatisch hervortrat, aufgefaßt werden. Nun machte sich später, erst vor ganz kurzer Zeit, ich will nicht sagen eine studentisch-jugendliche Gegenbewegung, aber eben eine anders geartete Bewegung geltend, die insbesondere aufgerreten ist, als hier in Stuttgart eine Anzahl von Mitgliedern studentischer Jugend sich zusammengefunden hatte, um etwas über Allgemein-Menschliches mit einer Art geistigem, pädagogisch-didaktischem Unterton zu pflegen. Da war nicht die Tendenz, in die Hörsäle unmittelbar hereinzutragen programmatisch den Einfluß der Anthroposophie, da war ein anderer Schauplatz in Aussicht genommen worden; da war es nicht der Hörsaal, da war es das Innere des Menschen, das menschliche Herz, der menschliche Geist, die menschliche Empfindungsweise. Da war nicht gesagt: Es soll irgend etwas eintreten durch das Wort, meinetwillen daß das Wort, um es radikal zu sagen, anders tönt in dem Hörsaal, sondern es war angestrebt: es soll unter der Jugend einzelne Menschen geben, die mit andern Herzen - weil das so in ihrem innersten Wesen liegt — jung sind und älter werden. Und weil sie als Studenten auch Menschen sind und als Menschen älter werden, so werden sie eben aus diesem Geist der Anthroposophie heraus, der ein ganz allgemein menschlicher ist, eben als Menschen auch im Hörsaal drinnen sein. Sie rechneten nicht mehr, diese jungen Akademiker, mit den Kategorien des Hörsaals der Akademien, sie rechneten mit dem jungen Menschen. Es war auf demselben Gebiete etwas, was durchaus von dem andern unterschieden werden muß. Die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft aber muß, wenn sie in richtiger Weise wirkt, weitherzig genug sein können, überall den Menschen bis in das innerste Menschenwesen hinein zu finden, wenn er zu ihr kommt und an ihr eine Helferin haben will für dieses sein Suchen, dieses sein Streben.

Wenn Sie nachlesen in meinem Buche «Wie erlangt man Erkenntnisse der höheren Welten?», so finden Sie da unter den mancherlei Übungen für die menschliche Seele, die da angeführt werden, auch sechs Übungen, die in gewissen Perioden gemacht werden sollen. Eine von diesen Übungen ist die Pflege einer völligen Unbefangenheit gegenüber den Gebieten des Lebens. Ja, meine lieben Freunde, diese sechs Tugenden braucht schon in ihrer Gänze die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft selbst, und es muß angestrebt werden, daß die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft als solche diese Tugenden habe. Sie muß Unbefangenheit genug haben, um, wenn jemand gerade kommt, den Menschen aufzusuchen, muß stark genug sein können, ihm voll entgegenzutreten. Und es hat sich eine der Schwierigkeiten der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft gerade darin gezeigt, daß, als ich hierher kam und diese Jugend vor kurzer Zeit vorfand, die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft sich völlig zurückgezogen hatte von ihr und ein notdürftiger Zusammenhang erst wiederum geleimt werden mußte. Ich spreche etwas radikal, aber vielleicht versteht man die Dinge dadurch besser. Ich will das nur anführen als ein Beispiel, daß die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft in sich die Möglichkeit haben muß, unbefangen den Erscheinungen des Lebens gegenüberzutreten.

Und wieder gehen wir auf ein anderes Gebiet. Es ist in letzter Zeit durch ausgezeichnete Persönlichkeiten schon seit Jahren von der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft aus das Gebiet der Wissenschaft in den verschiedensten Verzweigungen betreten worden. Wir haben wirklich — ich bin nicht nur äußerlich, sondern auch innerlich durchaus ganz ehrlich zurückhaltend mit meinem Urteile - ganz ausgezeichnete Wissenschafter, die nicht genug gewürdigt werden innerhalb unseres Kreises. Sie haben sich zur Aufgabe gestellt, das Wissenschaftliche zu pflegen innerhalb der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft, das Wissenschaftliche auf den einzelnen Gebieten. In den ersten Jahren des Bestehens der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft konnte sie nicht anders, als zu den Menschen als Menschen zunächst sprechen; sie konnte sich ja nicht gleich in die verschiedensten Gebiete hineinverzweigen, sie mußte erst von ihrem Zentrum aus von Mensch zu Mensch sprechen. Sie mußte erst, ich möchte sagen, sich ein gewisses Terrain in der Welt, nämlich in der Welt der Menschenherzen erobert haben, bevor auf einem einzelnen Gebiet etwas gepflegt werden konnte. Dann war es, weil eben die Anthroposophie etwas ist, was in alle Kultur- und Zivilisationsgebiete befruchtend hineinwirken kann, das selbstverständlich Gegebene, daß auch Wissenschafter in ihr auftraten und für die Wissenschaft wirkten. Aber nun, meine lieben Freunde, man kann wiederum ein ausgezeichneter Wissenschafter innerhalb der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft sein und die Grundbedingungen der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft als solche ganz außer acht lassen. Man kann gerade als Wissenschafter ausgezeichnet die anthroposophischen Lehren auf Chemie, Physik und so weiter übertragen und man kann ein so schlechter Anthroposoph als möglich sein. Und gerade auf diesem Gebiete haben wir es ja erlebt, daß die ausgezeichneten Wissenschafter eben uns alle ihre Kräfte entzogen haben, der Mutter alle Kräfte entzogen haben, alle ihre Wirkenskräfte entzogen, nicht mitgemacht haben im Hegen und Pflegen der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft als solcher. Diejenigen, die aus einfachen Menschenherzen heraus dann die Anthroposophie innerhalb der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft suchen, sie sind zuweilen unsympathisch berührt davon, daß diese Wissenschafter doch noch mit jenem Ansatz sprechen, mit jenem Unterton, den sie aus der Chemie, aus der Physik heraus bringen, wo zwar noch immer etwas darin liegt von Allgemein-Menschlichem, das chemisch, physikalisch, biologisch oder juristisch ist,was aber doch vom Allgemein-Menschlichen sehr weit entfernt ist. Was wir aber brauchen, das ist, daß der Mutter nicht vergessen werde. Denn hätte die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft Anthroposophie nicht gepflegt durch eineinhalb Jahrzehnte vom Zentrum aus, Anthroposophie als solche - die Wissenschafter hätten nicht sich auf ihrem Boden niederlassen können. Anthroposophie hat ihnen dasjenige gegeben, was sie brauchten. Sie müßten eingedenk dessen sein, daß sie wiederum zurückgeben müssen durch ihre Mitarbeit an der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft dasjenige, was sie gefunden haben für die Wissenschaft aus der Anthroposophie heraus.

Und so können wir eben gerade auf die verschiedensten Gebiete sehen und müssen uns gestehen: Anthroposophie hat — verzeihen Sie das scheinbar triviale Wort, aber es ist ja auch im Leben nicht so trivial - gerade seit 1919 viele Kinder gekriegt, aber die Kinder waren der Mutter wenig eingedenk.

Und heute stehen wir vor unserem furchtbaren Unglück, haben in Dornach die herzzerschmetternde Ruine des Goetheanums vor uns, und wir haben vor uns auch die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft; wenn sie auch der Zahl der Mitglieder nach unendlich vergrößert worden ist in der letzten Zeit, wir haben die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft ohne innere Festigkeit, auch mit etwas Ruinenhaftem in sich. Natürlich, wir können noch immer in anthroposophischen Zweigen uns versammeln, wir können noch immer Anthroposophie hören, aber das, was heute besteht, das kann im Nu durch die Gegner ausgelöscht werden, wenn wir das nicht bedenken angesichts des heutigen Unglücks, wovon ich heute sprechen mußte.

So war es das Wort der Trauer, das Wort des Schmerzes, das ich heute zu Ihnen sprechen mußte. Ich mußte in anderer Form zu Ihnen sprechen, als ich sonst von diesem Orte aus in der letzten Zeit zu Ihnen gesprochen habe. Aber dasjenige, was geschehen ist, und das, was das Geschehene begleitet, es zwingt mich, das Gesprochene ausklingen zu lassen in die Worte des Schmerzes, der Trauer, die wahrlich recht tief begründet sind, ebenso tief begründet sind wie das Wort des Dankes an alle diejenigen, die entweder durch ihre Liebe oder Arbeit an dem Aufbau des Goetheanums und beim Brande mitgeholfen haben. Ebenso tief begründet wie das Wort der Anerkennung alles desjenigen, was sich gerade in der neuesten Zeit in den weiten Kreisen der anthroposophischen Mitglieder in herzerhebender Weise gezeigt hat, ebenso tief begründet ist heute das Wort, in das der Schmerz ausklingen mußte, und das kein Wort der Kritik oder des Tadels sein soll nach irgendeiner Seite hin, sondern ein Wort der Gewissenserforschung, ein Wort zum Bewußtwerden der Verantwortlichkeit. Auch nicht ein Wort soll es sein, um niederzudrücken, sondern um aufzurichten in unseren Herzen, in unseren Geistern die Kräfte, die uns als Anthroposophische Gesellschaft erhalten können, und zwar als Anthroposophische Gesellschaft. Denn wir dürfen nicht werden ein Kreis von Pädagogen, ein Kreis von Religionserneuerern, ein Kreis von Wissenschaftern, ein Kreis von Jungen und Alten und Mittleren, wir müssen sein eine anthroposophische Gemeinschaft, die sich bewußt ist dessen, woraus sie schöpft und womit sie im Grunde genommen ihre Tochterbewegungen speist. Dessen müssen wir uns stark bewußt sein! Und wenn die Flammen von Dornach wirklich uns tief ins Herz brennen, so möchte dieser Brand in unseren Herzen — lassen Sie mich diesen Wunsch heute aussprechen zu Ihnen, meine lieben Freunde -, in uns erhärten die Kräfte zur Erringung des Bewußtseins, daß wir vor allen Dingen alle zusammen anthroposophisch arbeiten müssen. Denn es würden sich auch einzelne Spezialbewegungen ihre Kräfte entziehen, wenn sie der Mutter nicht eingedenk wären. Gewiß, es soll zugegeben werden, daß wegen der Schwierigkeiten solcher Sachen der Mutter vielfach vergessen wurde gerade von denjenigen, die am deutlichsten ihre Kinder sind. Aber wenn zur rechten Zeit, die vielleicht noch vorhanden ist, aber bald nicht mehr vorhanden sein wird, Umkehr erfolgt, wenn das Bewußtsein auftritt, daß innerhalb der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft anthroposophisch gearbeitet werden muß, daß vor allen Dingen die allgemeine Aufgabe, den Menschen zusammenzubringen mit den gemäß der Menschheitsentwickelung heute aus göttlich-geistigen Höhen zu uns herunterwollenden Geistesstrahlen, wenn an diesem Bewußtsein, an dieser Aufgabe noch zur rechten Zeit die Kräfte durch die auch in unseren Herzen brennenden Dornacher Flammen erhärtet werden, dann wird trotz aller furchtbaren Gegnerschaft etwas erreicht werden.

Möge das sein, meine lieben Freunde! Aber mögen Sie auch mit dem richtigen Ernste hören das, was ich, ich möchte sagen, mit tief schmerzendem Herzen heute zu Ihnen habe sprechen müssen. Möchte das in Ihnen Arbeitskraft, Arbeitswille, Wille zum Zusammenhalten gerade auf dem Gebiete der anthroposophischen Bewegung sein. Niemandem soll nahegetreten werden, indem ihm gesagt wird, er ist ein ausgezeichnetes Mitglied in der Arbeit des «Kommenden Tages», in der Waldorfschule, oder ein ausgezeichnet Wirkender auf dem Gebiete der religiösen Erneuerung oder auf einem andern Gebiete. Allein diese alle, neben denjenigen, die nicht ein spezielles Gebiet betreten haben, und auch diejenigen, die alt und jung und in der Mitte sind, sie mögen alle sich bewußt werden der Mutter, nämlich der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft selbst, aus der all das entspringen muß und in der alle die einzelnen Spezialisten zusammenarbeiten müssen. Zuviel Spezialismus, ohne daß es in der richtigen Weise bemerkt worden ist, ist groß geworden unter uns; mancher so.groß, daß er schon wieder klein ist, weil er der Mutter gar zu sehr vergessen hat. Möge der Dornacher Brand ein Wahrzeichen sein zu dem Willen, unsere Kräfte im Sinne der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft recht zu erstarken, zu erstarken zu redlichem, ehrlichem Zusammenwirken.

First Lecture

The Goetheanum in Dornach, which has been under construction for ten years, is no more. The Anthroposophical Society has lost this building. It has lost an extraordinary amount. One only has to consider what the Anthroposophical Society has become through the construction of the Goetheanum, and when one gradually realizes the magnitude of the loss, one also measures the magnitude of the pain for which there are no words, the magnitude of the pain that has befallen us through the terrible fire on New Year's Eve 1922/1923. By the time we were able to lay the foundation stone for the Goetheanum in Dornach in 1913, the Anthroposophical Society, as the guardian of the anthroposophical movement, had spread throughout a certain area of the world through its individual branches. And it was from within this society that the impulse arose to erect its own central building. Perhaps it is here that one can feel twice as keenly all that the entire Anthroposophical Society has suffered by losing this central building. For here in Stuttgart, the Anthroposophical Society went ahead with the building in which we have been able to carry out our activities for many years now. Therefore, here we will know what it means to be surrounded by our own building, worthy of the anthroposophical movement.

Until the impulse arose to build a central building in Dornach, the Anthroposophical Society was dependent on working solely through its meetings — Stuttgart is of course an exception to this, as already mentioned — it was dependent, in a sense, on having only the word to speak of the connection between human beings and the spiritual world that has become necessary today through human development. Now, this way of working for the anthroposophical movement through the word will certainly always be the most important, the most meaningful, the most indispensable in this field. But with the construction of the Goetheanum, something else became possible. It became possible to speak to the wider world through the artistic forms that had been sought in the Goetheanum building as purely artistic. Certainly, anyone who in our present time has no sense or feeling for what anthroposophy can proclaim through the word will also be unable to have any sense or feeling for such artistic forms as those that became visible in Dornach in the construction of the Goetheanum. Nevertheless, it must be said that, in accordance with people's sympathies, in our present time the eye is more easily drawn to what can be seen than the soul, through inner activity, to what can be heard. And so, precisely through the Dornach building, the possibility of speaking about the spirituality necessary for humanity today had been increased to an immeasurable extent. Through the Goetheanum, the mysteries of the spiritual world have indeed been communicated to a vastly greater number of people than could ever have been reached through words alone, through visible forms and visible works. And once and for all, the Dornach Goetheanum proved to all those who had only a little goodwill to look impartially at this Goetheanum and the anthroposophy behind it that anthroposophy is not sectarian in nature, that it seeks to grasp the great task of our present time, which consists in catching the rays of a new spiritual light that have now become accessible to humanity and imprinting them on the means of human culture and civilization. In contrast to individual meetings in randomly chosen locations, even the unbiased observer might have spoken of a sectarian movement. In view of the care taken in Dornach to avoid any symbolism or allegory in the architectural and artistic forms and to allow the anthroposophical impulse to flow into purely real art, it was not possible, with good will, to continue to speak of an anthroposophical sect. One had to recognize that anthroposophy wants something thoroughly universal and human, does not want to cultivate any kind of separation, but seeks for the present what is universally human in every area of human thought and creativity in the present. And so this Goetheanum, which now, as a ruin, makes such a terribly devastating impression, had become a powerful means for the anthroposophical movement to express what it actually is in its true essence. And we have tried to introduce into every single form, into every single picture, everything that was contained in this general impulse that I have just expressed. We have tried to present pure art, because pure, true art lies entirely within the essence of the anthroposophical impulse. And so, precisely through the Goetheanum, it was possible to speak about the sacred matter of this Anthroposophical Society even to people who wanted nothing to do with the Anthroposophical Society.

This has been happening for almost ten years. Now, in one night, it has become impossible. One need only say these two sentences side by side, and one is thrust into all those feelings for which there are really no words to express. In comparison, of course, all that can be cited today from ten years of work and ten years of concern is small; for small, after all, is this work, and small are these concerns in comparison with the irreplaceable loss of a most significant means of revelation for the anthroposophical movement.

Now, if the Goetheanum no longer exists today, then surely everyone who loved this Goetheanum, who was genuinely attached to it, will feel the desire to rebuild it in some form. However, when considering the idea of rebuilding, we must not forget that ten years have passed since this building was constructed and that, in a certain sense, it is also in the nature of the anthroposophical movement to have opponents. We are seeing once again in these days of sorrow what the opposition to the anthroposophical movement means. On the one hand, it must be said that the catastrophe has shown how many real friends the anthroposophical movement has gained through the Goetheanum. For in addition to the expressions of sorrow and grief on the occasion of the catastrophe from the circles of anthroposophical friends, which I have received with such heartfelt gratitude, we have received many messages from people who have always remained outside the circle of the Anthroposophical Society and who have now expressed their sympathy for this terrible catastrophe. Much love for our cause has been shown on this occasion.

Basically, the Dornach building was built out of love. Basically, it was destroyed in the name of love. It could only have been built through the boundless willingness to make sacrifices of those personalities who, at the time the building was undertaken in 1913, had already devoted themselves to the anthroposophical movement for a certain period of time. Material sacrifices, sacrifices of spirit, sacrifices of labor were made in immeasurable ways. And many friends of the anthroposophical cause came together in Dornach to contribute in the most selfless way to the realization of this building.

And then the terrible war came. Although the pace of construction of the Goetheanum slowed considerably during the terrible war, this did not actually breach the spirit of anthroposophical cooperation. Amidst hostility and conflict between nations, the Dornach building site was indeed a place where representatives of a large number of warring European nations worked together peacefully, in loving solidarity, thinking and working together. And perhaps it may be said without immodesty: the love that was built into this building may be shown when, in a cultural-historical sense, people speak of the waves of hatred that were unleashed among civilized humanity between 1914 and 1918. In Dornach, while hatred raged all around, true love reigned and was built into the building. It was the love that comes from the spirit. For anthroposophy undoubtedly bears its name rightly: it is not merely a form of knowledge like other forms of knowledge. The approach of its ideas, the approach of its words, means something other than theoretical, abstract knowledge. Ideas in anthroposophy are not formed in the same way as ideas have been formed in other fields of knowledge for three, four, five centuries; words are not coined in the same way as words are coined in other fields today. For anthroposophy, ideas are vessels fashioned out of love, into which the human being is brought in from spiritual worlds in a spiritual way. Enveloped in lovingly formed thoughts, the light of true humanity is to shine through anthroposophy. And knowledge is only the form through which human beings are to be given the opportunity for the true spirit from worlds beyond to gather in human hearts, so that it can shine through human thoughts from human hearts. And because anthroposophy can truly only be grasped by love, it creates love when it is taken up by people in its true form. That is why a place of love could be built in Dornach in the midst of raging hatred. And words are not used in anthroposophy in the same way as they are used elsewhere today. Words are used in such a way that they are all actually requests. Every word in anthroposophy is, when spoken in the right sense, a request, a devout request: the request that the spirit may descend to human beings.

And it was out of such devotion that the building in Dornach was constructed. Love was built into it, and the love of our friends in turn worked sacrificially during the night of the fire. There was spirit metamorphosed into love present there.

Now it is impossible for me at this time to speak of what, I would say, should be said in a deeper spiritual sense about the fire disaster in Dornach. I would not dismiss it if someone were to raise the question from their heart: What about the justice of the world powers, which offered no protection against this terrible catastrophe? Nor would I dismiss it if someone were to say: Was this catastrophe not foreseeable? But these are questions that lead into the deepest realm of esotericism, and it is impossible to speak about them today because there is no longer a place where one can speak freely about such deeper reasons without this immediately being carried out through leaky walls to those people who only use such things to forge weapons against the anthroposophical movement. And so today I am prevented from speaking about deeper spiritual connections in this regard.

But what has shown itself, on the one hand, I would say, in love, is immediately met with strong opposition. In the face of our misfortune, we are being bombarded from all sides with ridicule, scorn, and hatred, and with that which has always been steeped in so much of this opposition: objective untruth. This is particularly evident now, when the opposition is coming out of all corners and taking the opportunity to respond to misfortune with objective untruth. Our friends have worked hard to save what could not be saved. Opponents, however, find it tasteful, for example, to say: These anthroposophists, you saw their character on the occasion of the fire, they stood nearby and prayed that the fire would stop by itself! I want to highlight just this small sample of all the ridicule and scorn that is directed at us in connection with this catastrophe.

Well, I have been pointing out for years, I may say, that we must reckon with ever-increasing opposition and that vigilance in the face of this growing opposition is our most sacred duty. It was always painful for me when someone said: “The opponents seem to have calmed down in this or that direction.” This was connected with the now unfortunately widespread tendency to delude ourselves in our circles. May the terrible misfortune that has befallen us at least take away this tendency to delude ourselves from our dear friends and teach them to believe that it is necessary to gather all the strong forces of our minds and hearts in order to maintain the anthroposophical movement. For if the desire arises today to rebuild something like a Goetheanum, it is above all necessary for us to be aware that without a strong, energetic Anthroposophical Society behind it, such a reconstruction is meaningless. The reconstruction only makes sense if it is backed by a self-aware, duty-conscious, strong Anthroposophical Society. On the other hand, we must not forget what the conditions are for the existence of such a strong Anthroposophical Society. And in this serious, I might say solemn moment, let us add a few words about how to think about a strong Anthroposophical Society that is conscious of its duties, especially in these days.

My dear friends, until 1918, the Anthroposophical Society existed, I would say, as a vessel for the spiritual stream that, in the opinion of the leading anthroposophical members, was to come to humanity in our age. Until 1918, this was joined by what had been developed solely from the anthroposophical center, from anthroposophical thinking, feeling, and willing. And even though the building in Dornach was everything I have spoken about today, even though it was a symbol of the anthroposophical movement in a much broader sense than the word can convey, it must be said that it sprang from the center of anthroposophical impulses down to its smallest details. But anthroposophy is not the concern of a secluded circle of people; it is, in its very nature, the opposite of anything sectarian. And that is why it is capable of making what it creates from its center fruitful in the most diverse areas of life. In the difficult times that followed the provisional end of the European war, friends of the anthroposophical movement saw the misfortune in the most diverse areas of life and realized that new impulses were needed in the most diverse areas of life. And since 1919, in connection with the anthroposophical movement, many things have come into being in a different way than they would have if anthroposophy had continued in the same way and with the same momentum that it had maintained until 1918. There is no doubt that anthroposophy is called upon to work in the most diverse areas of life, including, of course, all those that have been fruitfully cultivated in connection with it since 1919 by various friends of anthroposophy. But external events have in a certain way led to things not being drawn directly from anthroposophy, but rather — though certainly not in the anthroposophical sense — being established and cultivated alongside anthroposophy, as it were. And so, since 1919, we have seen various things that are not unanthroposophical, but which have been cultivated alongside anthroposophy in a different way than had been the case in the elementary way that followed from the progress of the anthroposophical movement until 1918. This is an extremely important fact, and I would ask you not to misunderstand me when I speak about these events today — I am obliged to speak about them.

I am not, of course, talking about those things that have arisen in connection with the anthroposophical movement in their inner genuineness, such as the “Kommende Tag” or similar things, which live in their own conditions, which have arisen in connection with the anthroposophical movement, but which have special conditions of existence. Therefore, what I have to say in the following sentences does not apply to such foundations; it must not be misunderstood as saying anything about the value of these foundations in the material realm, which, of course, should be maintained in a spirit that is entirely compatible with the anthroposophical movement. What I am saying should refer solely to the Anthroposophical Society as such, to the work within the Anthroposophical Society, for the Anthroposophical Society, and so on. This anthroposophical movement, which is partly anchored in the Anthroposophical Society, has been able to prove here in Stuttgart that it is, in its essence, something universal and human, that it does not spring from any spiritual party program or the like, but from the whole of human nature. And the impartial observer will perhaps realize that this proof of the universal human nature of anthroposophy has been provided here in Stuttgart in one particular field. It has been provided in the field of education and teaching through the Waldorf school. It has been provided by the fact that the Waldorf school is not an anthroposophy school, but that the Waldorf school wants to solve the problem: How can we best educate and teach people based on the whole range of human abilities? How can we develop people through education and teaching? — And anthroposophy is supposed to show the way in which this problem can be solved. A sect or a party would have founded an anthroposophical school, not a universal human school. And it cannot be emphasized enough that it is precisely this universal human character that Waldorf schools strive to achieve. Here it seems that one can say: to those who truly profess anthroposophy in the genuine spirit, the name anthroposophy is completely irrelevant; what matters to them is the cause. But the cause is a universal human one, and by approaching a specific area, it can only work in the spirit of the most universal humanity. Every sect, every party, if it can establish a school, whether the sect is called Adventist or Monist, every sect, if it establishes a school, establishes a sectarian school. Anthroposophy cannot do this by its very nature. Anthroposophy can only establish something that is universally human. That is its nature. And anyone who, in view of such facts, still treats the anthroposophical movement as a sectarian one can only do so out of carelessness or malice. Here in Stuttgart, the Waldorf School in particular has provided proof that anthroposophy is a universal human cause.

But this should also be taken deeply into account within the Anthroposophical Society. The way in which the Waldorf School was founded, the spirit from which it was founded, should be reflected upon within the Anthroposophical Society. And when founding anything in connection with the anthroposophical movement or society, one should actually ensure that it is done in this spirit. So it can perhaps be said that the construction of the Goetheanum in Dornach, the founding of the Waldorf school, and the way in which the Waldorf school is run, all clearly reflect the way in which anthroposophy wants to work for the individual cultural areas.

So I cite – I would like to say this again so that I am not misunderstood – for example, the Coming Day as something that is not affected by my following words, because it carries its value within itself through its own conditions of existence. I only want to speak of what is taking place or is to take place within the anthroposophical movement through anthroposophical activity, and I would like to emphasize particularly strongly that the anthroposophical movement has been able to show, precisely at the Waldorf school, how it does not act in a narrowly partisan or sectarian way, but how it acts in the general sense of humanity, so that, in a sense, one can no longer tell from its children what source they sprang from, because they grow into the general human condition. There is no need to ask about Waldorf schools: Did they originate from anthroposophy? One only needs to ask: Do they educate and teach children in the way that human beings should be educated and taught? And so one must say that anthroposophy is metamorphosed in its work, in its activity, into the essence of what is universally human. But precisely if this is to be the case, precisely if anthroposophy is to be effective in the right way in the most diverse fields, then it must have a field in which it is energetically cultivated in its purity, not for its own sake, but, I would say, for the sake of its children, a field in which one is fully aware of one's duties to society as an anthroposophist. Only in this way can anthroposophy be the right mother for the most diverse children in the most diverse areas of culture and civilization. The Anthroposophical Society must unite people who are serious in the deepest, most sacred sense about cultivating the anthroposophical cause. Well, that is difficult. Many believe it is easy. It is difficult in a certain sense, and the difficulties have become particularly apparent here in Stuttgart since 1919. For on the one hand, we have something in the Waldorf school that, at least until today, has preserved the character just discussed, which lies entirely in the essence of anthroposophy; on the other hand, we have seen here how extraordinarily difficult it is to remain in the right relationship with the mother, with the Anthroposophical Society as such, I would say. This may sound like a paradox at first. However, if I explain what I mean in more detail, I will perhaps be understood in this area as well.

I can now discuss these matters without saying anything about the value of the various movements that have arisen in connection with anthroposophy since 1919, because I am only speaking in relation to the repercussions on the Anthroposophical Society. So no one should twist or misinterpret my words as if I were speaking about the value of the individual justifications; I am only speaking about the repercussions on the Anthroposophical Society. These foundations that have been established have not always been understood by those who represent them in such a way that, I would say, the word is felt in a modern spiritual sense: You shall honor your mother and your father, so that it may go well with you on earth. For within such foundations, members of the Anthroposophical Society are also at work, and indeed for the most part. Now the question is: Are these members of the Anthroposophical Society, who are active in a field that has developed in connection with it, always mindful of their mother in the right way, even though they are the most distinguished people in this field? Do they have the right influence on the Anthroposophical Society from their field? This question is quite different from whether or not the people concerned are outstanding individuals in their fields. If I were to express myself in particularly radical terms, I would have to say the following: For example, someone may be an excellent Waldorf school teacher, fully in the spirit in which the Waldorf school was founded out of the anthroposophical movement as a general human endeavor, they can fulfill their role as a Waldorf school teacher as excellently as possible in this spirit, and the Waldorf school, precisely because it is not an anthroposophical school, can be shaped and function in the spirit of anthroposophy. The individual Waldorf school teacher can be perfectly suited to his position, but he cannot work sufficiently as an anthroposophist for the Anthroposophical Society. I am not saying that this is the case in either instance, I only want to make it clear that this can be the case. The individual, let us say, working for the coming day, can be an excellent official of the coming day, he can bring the coming day to its most beautiful blossom, and he can – let me put it this way – achieve something completely inadequate in the field of the Anthroposophical Society! But by not giving the mother what the mother must have, so that all the children can be cared for in the right way, the most serious concern for the anthroposophical movement arises, truly the most serious concern.

My dear friends, that was what prompted me to speak out on a particular subject during my penultimate lecture at the Goetheanum on the movement for religious renewal. I certainly do not wish to criticize this movement for religious renewal in any way, for it came into being three and a half months ago on my own advice, and it is only natural that I myself should view this movement in such a way that I feel the deepest satisfaction when it flourishes. I think there can be no doubt about that. Nevertheless, after these three and a half months of activity, I had to resort to the words that were addressed in Dornach at that time, not to the religious renewal movement, but to the anthroposophists, including, of course, the anthroposophists who are part of the religious renewal movement. And these words could only be a paraphrase: Rejoice in the daughter, but do not forget the mother, do not forget that the mother must also be cherished and cared for. The movement for religious renewal must be mindful of this cherishing and caring for the mother, but especially the anthroposophists who live within the Anthroposophical Society must be mindful of this.

For, even if it can only be said remotely that the Anthroposophical Society is getting its due — I do not mean due in the legal sense, of course — when anthroposophists turn away from it and turn to a daughter movement, not in the sense that they say: We have grown together with the anthroposophical movement, so we can best advise a daughter movement, we can best support this daughter movement — but when anthroposophists turn away from the anthroposophical movement with the attitude that they say: Now we have the truth that we could never find within anthroposophy! — This is really a matter of attitude, of feeling, of emotion. And as much as one should rejoice when the mother takes care of the daughter, it must also be pointed out that the daughter cannot thrive without the mother being cherished and cared for. If it became apparent that those who stand for anthroposophy within the movement for religious renewal were to become inadequate members of the Anthroposophical Society, the same thing would happen as if someone who is an excellent teacher in a Waldorf school were to be an inadequate anthroposophist within the Anthroposophical Society. But this is precisely the fate we have been experiencing since 1919, even if it has often gone unnoticed.

We have seen the founding of the “Association for the Threefold Social Order,” and this was done with good intentions. It has contributed greatly to not spreading the impulse for threefolding to other circles that are not yet anthroposophical, but rather to driving it like a wedge into the anthroposophical movement, which, when you get right down to it, already had everything that was in threefolding in a very exoteric, external way, coming from a much deeper essence. And we have already had to experience that anthroposophists who work eagerly and intensively in the field of threefold social order have become worse members of the Anthroposophical Society than they were before. And that, I would say, has been our fate for four years. This fate must be characterized, because a strong and energetic Anthroposophical Society must exist if the reconstruction of the Goetheanum is to be considered with any justification at all. It must be remembered that it is, I would say, of primeval phenomenal significance that excellent work began here in Stuttgart in a wide variety of fields. But if we look at things realistically, we must ask ourselves the following question—please do not misunderstand me, because it is of no use if I do not speak today, I would say, from the foundations, in view of this sacred, solemn, serious, but also sad moment—let us take, so as not to be misunderstood, the example of the Waldorf school. We must say the following to ourselves: we must make clear to ourselves the difference that exists between the dissemination of anthroposophy through word and writing, through lectures and books, and the cultivation of the Anthroposophical Society. In order to spread anthroposophy through word and writing, an Anthroposophical Society is not necessary in theory, and in many cases anthroposophy is spread through word and writing without an Anthroposophical Society. But everything that is connected with anthroposophy today cannot exist without the Anthroposophical Society; it needs the Anthroposophical Society as its vessel. Now, one can be an excellent Waldorf school teacher, an excellent educator up there in the Waldorf school, and at the same time be an excellent disseminator of anthroposophy in word and writing, but one can withdraw one's activity from the nurturing and cultivation of the Anthroposophical Society or, indeed, from the work of anthroposophy in relation to other people. And must we not say: We have an excellent Waldorf school, we have excellent personalities working at this Waldorf school who, in a much more brilliant way than one could expect, stand up for both sides – or in this context one must also say, stand up for their women – but who have withdrawn their energy from this actual nurturing and cultivation of the Anthroposophical Society. They came to Stuttgart, performed their services brilliantly in the two areas I have described, but they did not place them at the service of the Anthroposophical Society; they did not participate in nurturing and caring for the Anthroposophical Society.

I ask you to take my words very seriously today. We have had energetic, enthusiastic people in the field of the threefold movement; by being active in the field of the threefold movement, they have increasingly withdrawn their activity from the actual Anthroposophical Society. And now we are threatened with the possibility that, in the field of religious renewal, outstanding personalities may be working in a perhaps quite brilliant way, and it could happen again, and now in a particularly significant field, that the forces of the Anthroposophical Society will be withdrawn. This is what causes such grave concern, especially in view of the immeasurable misfortune that has befallen us, and what makes it necessary to speak with all clarity about things today.

In order not to be unclear, and to characterize the nature of the work in the Anthroposophical Society itself sufficiently, I would like to point out something else that I must characterize in a completely different way than what I have said so far. Over the last four years, during which the fortunes of the Anthroposophical Society have been so varied, we have seen a certain movement develop in two ways. And it is precisely this twofold nature of its development that is so characteristic of this movement and of the Anthroposophical Society: the student youth movement. Let us recall how the student youth movement came into being some time ago. At that time, it called itself the Anthroposophical University Association. Of course, because such things are part of life, they cannot be captured in fixed, sharply defined terms without some effort, but we must try to do so to some extent. What was more or less consciously sought by the participants in this Anthroposophical University Association, particularly by the personality who was so strongly involved in its founding at that time, Roman Boos? The aim was to influence, shape, and transform the study of the individual sciences from an anthroposophical perspective in response to certain shortcomings perceived by the movement's supporters. The movement was conceived in such a way that it should have an effect, one might say, in the lecture halls, so that through the activity of the young students, a spirit would assert itself in the lecture halls that would have an effect there. Only in this way could what was programmatically emphasized at that time be understood. Later, only very recently, a movement arose, not necessarily a student or youth counter-movement, but a movement of a different nature, which emerged in particular when a number of student members gathered here in Stuttgart to cultivate something about general human issues with a kind of spiritual, pedagogical, and didactic undertone. There was no tendency to bring the influence of anthroposophy directly into the lecture halls in a programmatic way; a different arena had been envisaged; it was not the lecture hall, it was the inner life of the human being, the human heart, the human spirit, the human way of feeling. It was not said: something should happen through the word, for my sake, that the word, to put it radically, should sound different in the lecture hall, but rather the aim was: there should be individual people among the young who, with other hearts – because that is in their innermost being – are young and grow older. And because they are also human beings as students and grow older as human beings, they will be in the lecture hall as human beings, precisely because of this spirit of anthroposophy, which is a very general human spirit. These young academics no longer reckoned with the categories of the lecture hall of the academies; they reckoned with the young human being. It was something in the same field, but something that must be distinguished from the other. However, if the Anthroposophical Society is to function properly, it must be broad-minded enough to find the innermost human being in everyone who comes to it and wants it to help them in their search, in their striving.

If you read my book “How to Attain Knowledge of Higher Worlds,” you will find among the various exercises for the human soul that are listed there, six exercises that should be done in certain periods. One of these exercises is to cultivate complete impartiality toward the areas of life. Yes, my dear friends, the Anthroposophical Society itself needs these six virtues in their entirety, and we must strive to ensure that the Anthroposophical Society as such possesses these virtues. It must be impartial enough to seek out people when they come, and it must be strong enough to meet them fully. And one of the difficulties of the Anthroposophical Society has been precisely that when I came here and found these young people a short time ago, the Anthroposophical Society had completely withdrawn from them and a makeshift connection had to be reestablished. I am speaking somewhat radically, but perhaps this will help you understand things better. I only mention this as an example to show that the Anthroposophical Society must have within itself the ability to face the phenomena of life with an open mind.

And now we move on to another area. For years now, outstanding personalities from the Anthroposophical Society have been entering the field of science in its various branches. We really do have — and I am being completely honest in my assessment, both externally and internally — some truly outstanding scientists who are not sufficiently appreciated within our circle. They have set themselves the task of cultivating science within the Anthroposophical Society, science in the individual fields. In the early years of the Anthroposophical Society's existence, it could not help but speak to people as human beings first; it could not immediately branch out into the most diverse fields, it first had to speak from its center, from person to person. It first had to, I would say, conquer a certain terrain in the world, namely in the world of human hearts, before anything could be cultivated in a single field. Then, because anthroposophy is something that can have a fertilizing effect on all areas of culture and civilization, it was only natural that scientists also appeared in it and worked for science. But now, my dear friends, one can be an excellent scientist within the Anthroposophical Society and completely disregard the basic conditions of the Anthroposophical Society as such. One can be an excellent scientist who applies anthroposophical teachings to chemistry, physics, and so on, and one can be as bad an anthroposophist as possible. And it is precisely in this field that we have experienced that the excellent scientists have withdrawn all their energies from us, have withdrawn all their energies from the Mother, have withdrawn all their energies for action, have not participated in nurturing and caring for the Anthroposophical Society as such. Those who, out of simple human hearts, then seek anthroposophy within the Anthroposophical Society are sometimes unsympathetically affected by the fact that these scientists still speak with that approach, with that undertone that they bring from chemistry, from physics, where there is still something in it that is generally human, that is chemical, physical, biological, or legal, but which is nevertheless very far removed from the generally human. What we need, however, is for the mother not to be forgotten. For if the Anthroposophical Society had not cultivated anthroposophy for a decade and a half from its center, anthroposophy as such, the scientists would not have been able to establish themselves on its ground. Anthroposophy gave them what they needed. They should remember that they must give back what they have found for science from anthroposophy through their cooperation with the Anthroposophical Society.

And so we can look at the most diverse areas and must admit to ourselves: anthroposophy has — forgive the seemingly trivial word, but it is not so trivial in life — had many children since 1919, but the children were not very mindful of their mother.

And today we are faced with our terrible misfortune, we have before us the heartbreaking ruins of the Goetheanum in Dornach, and we also have before us the Anthroposophical Society; even though its membership has grown infinitely in recent times, we have an Anthroposophical Society without inner strength, with something ruinous about it. Of course, we can still gather in anthroposophical branches, we can still hear anthroposophy, but what exists today can be wiped out in an instant by our opponents if we do not consider this in view of today's misfortune, which I had to speak about today.

So it was words of grief, words of pain that I had to speak to you today. I had to speak to you in a different way than I have spoken to you from this place in recent times. But what has happened, and what accompanies what has happened, compels me to end what I have said with words of pain and sorrow, which are truly deeply founded, just as deeply founded as the words of thanks to all those who, either through their love or their work, have helped to build the Goetheanum and helped during the fire. Just as deeply rooted as the words of appreciation for everything that has been shown in such a heart-lifting way in recent times in the wide circles of anthroposophical members, just as deeply rooted are the words in which the pain had to fade away, and which is not meant to be a word of criticism or reproach in any way, but a word of soul-searching, a word to raise awareness of responsibility. Nor is it meant to be a word to depress, but to uplift in our hearts, in our spirits, the forces that can sustain us as the Anthroposophical Society, and indeed as the Anthroposophical Society. For we must not become a circle of educators, a circle of religious reformers, a circle of scientists, a circle of young and old and middle-aged people; we must be an anthroposophical community that is aware of where it draws its inspiration from and what it ultimately feeds its daughter movements with. We must be keenly aware of this! And if the flames of Dornach really burn deep in our hearts, then may this fire in our hearts — let me express this wish to you today, my dear friends — strengthen in us the powers to achieve the awareness that, above all, we must all work together anthroposophically. For individual special movements would also lose their powers if they were not mindful of their mother. Admittedly, it must be said that because of the difficulties involved in such matters, the Mother was often forgotten, especially by those who are most clearly her children. But if, at the right time, which may still be available but will soon be gone, a reversal takes place, if the awareness arises that anthroposophical work must be done within the Anthroposophical Society, that above all the general task is to bring people together with the spiritual rays that are now descending from the spiritual heights in accordance with human development, if the forces are strengthened at the right time by the Dornach flames burning in our hearts, too, then this awareness, this task, will be achieved. spiritual heights, if at the right time the forces are strengthened by the Dornach flames burning in our hearts, then something will be achieved despite all the terrible opposition.

May that be so, my dear friends! But may you also listen with the right seriousness to what I have had to say to you today, I would like to say, with a deeply aching heart. May this be in you the power to work, the will to work, the will to hold together, especially in the field of the anthroposophical movement. No one should be offended by being told that they are an excellent member of the work of the “Coming Day,” in the Waldorf school, or an excellent worker in the field of religious renewal or in another field. But all of these, along with those who have not entered a specific field, and also those who are old and young and in between, may they all become aware of the Mother, namely the Anthroposophical Society itself, from which all this must spring and in which all the individual specialists must work together. Too much specialization, without it being noticed in the right way, has become widespread among us; some so great that it is already small again, because it has forgotten the Mother too much. May the Dornach fire be a symbol of the will to strengthen our powers in the spirit of the Anthroposophical Society, to strengthen them into honest, sincere cooperation.