The Rudolf Steiner Archive

In the last lecture I gave a survey of our studies during the past year and an indication of the purpose and spirit of those studies. I said that the whole spiritual-scientific Movement must be permeated by the same spirit which actuates our study, for instance, of the many aspects of the Christ-problem. In all our striving for knowledge we must display modesty and humility and it is of this humility that I want to speak a little more specifically.

I have often said that while an object can be depicted in some way by painting or photographing it from one side, it must never be claimed that such a picture is in any sense a complete presentation. We can get an approximate idea of an object if we look at it from several sides and gather the single pictures into one whole, but even in ordinary observation we have to go all round an object if we want to get a comprehensive idea of it. And if anyone were to imagine that he could obtain the whole truth about some matter relating to the spiritual world from a single glimpse of that world, he would be greatly mistaken. Many errors arise from failure to recognise this. The four accounts of the events in Palestine given by the four Evangelists are actually a safeguard against students taking such an attitude. People who do not know that in spiritual life an object or a being or an event must be contemplated from different sides will, with their superficial approach to truth, find apparent contradictions in the accounts of the individual Evangelists. But it has been repeatedly pointed out that the four accounts present the great Christ Event from four different aspects and that they must be viewed as a whole, just as we should have to do in the case of an object painted from four different sides. If we proceed with careful attention to detail, as we have tried to do in connection with the Gospels of St. Matthew, St. Luke and St. John and later on shall try to do with that of St. Mark, we shall see that there is wonderful harmony in the four accounts. The mere fact that there are four Gospels is a sufficient indication of the need to look at truth from four different sides.

During the past year I have often spoken of the possibility of discovering different aspects of truth. At our General Meeting last year I tried to supplement what is usually called `Theosophy' by another view which I called that of `Anthroposophy' and I showed how it is related to Theosophy. I spoke of a science based upon physical facts and upon the intellectual assessment of facts revealed to sense-observation. When this science deals with Man, we call it Anthropology, which comprises everything about Man that can be investigated by the senses and studied by means of rational observation. Anthropology, therefore, studies the human physical organism as it presents itself to the methods and instruments used by natural science. It studies the relics of prehistoric men, the tools and implements used by them and since buried in the earth, and then tries to form an idea of how the human race has evolved through the ages. It also studies the stages of development in evidence among savages or uncivilised peoples, starting from the assumption that these peoples are now at the stage of culture attained by civilised humanity in much earlier times. In this way Anthropology forms an idea of the various stages through which man has passed before reaching his present level.

A great deal more could be said to shed light on Anthropology. Last year I compared it to a man who gains his knowledge of a country by walking about on flat ground, noting the market-towns, the cities, woods and fields, and describing everything just as he has seen it from the flat countryside.

But there is a different point of view from which man can be studied, namely that of Theosophy. The ultimate aim of Theosophy is to shed light upon the nature and purpose of man. If you study my book, Occult Science, you will see that everything culminates in a description of man's true being. If Anthropology can be compared with a man who collects his facts and data by walking about on flat ground and then tries to understand them, Theosophy can be compared with an observer who climbs to a mountain-top and from there surveys the surrounding country, looks at the market-towns, the cities, the woods, and so on. Much that he sees on the ground below will be unclear and often he will see particular points only. The standpoint adopted by Theosophy is on a lofty level at which many of the qualities and idiosyncracies displayed by man in daily life become unclear, just as villages and towns are indistinct when they are viewed from the top of a mountain.

What I have just said will not, perhaps, be very enlightening to someone who is only beginning his study of Spiritual Science. He will try to understand and form certain ideas of the nature and being of man, of the physical, etheric and astral bodies and so on, but at first he will not come up against the difficulties that lie ahead when he tries to make progress in the deeper understanding of Spiritual Science. The greater the progress he makes, the more he recognises how difficult it is to find a connection between what has been attained on the heights of Spiritual Science and the feelings and perceptions of daily life.

Someone might ask why it is that spiritual truths seem illuminating and right to many people in spite of the fact that they are incapable of testing what they have been told from spiritual heights by comparing it with their own observations in everyday life. The reason is that there is an affinity between the human soul and truth. This instinctive, natural sense of truth is a reality and of untold value particularly in our own day, because the spiritual level from which essential truths can be seen is so infinitely high. If people had first to scale these heights themselves they would have a long road in the life of soul and spirit to travel and those unable to do so could have no sense of the value these truths have for human life. But once spiritual truths have been communicated, every soul has the capacity to assimilate them.

How is a soul which accepts these truths to be compared with one which is able actually to discover them? A trivial analogy can be chosen here, but trivial as it is it means more than appears on the surface.—All of us can put on our boots, but not all of us can make them; to do that we should have to be bootmakers. What we get out of the boots does not depend upon being able to make them but upon being able to put them to proper use.—This is precisely the case with the truths given us through Spiritual Science. We must apply them in our lives, even though we cannot ourselves discover them as seers. When we accept them because of our natural feeling for truth they help us to orientate our lives, to realise that we are not limited to existence between birth and death, that we bear within us a spiritual man, that we pass through many earth-lives, and so on. These truths can be absorbed and applied. And just as boots protect us from the cold, so do these truths protect us from spiritual cold and from the spiritual poverty we should experience if we were capable of thinking, feeling and perceiving only what the external sense-world presents to us. Spiritual truths are brought down from the heights for the use and benefit of all human beings, though there may be only a few who can actually find them, namely those who have trodden the spiritual path already described.

Any view of the world around us—which, when it is a question of studying Man is also the concern of Anthropology—shows us how this world itself reveals behind it another world which can be observed from the higher, spiritual standpoint of Theosophy. The sense-world itself can reveal another world if we do not just accept the facts with the intellect, but interpret them; when, that is to say, we do not move so far beyond the field of sense-perception as does Theosophy itself but stand as it were on the mountain-side where a wider view is possible without the details becoming unclear. This standpoint was characterised last year as that of Anthroposophy, showing that three views of Man are possible, namely the views of Anthropology, of Anthroposophy and of Theosophy.

This year, in connection with our General Meeting, the lectures on ‘Psychosophy’—which will be as significant as those on Anthroposophy, only in a quite different sense—will show how, on the basis of its impressions and experiences, the human soul itself can be described in its relation to spiritual life. Later lectures on ‘Pneumatosophy’ will conclude this series and will show how our studies of Anthroposophy and Psychosophy merge into Theosophy. The aim of all this is to show you how manifold truth is. The earnest seeker discovers that the further he progresses, the humbler he becomes and also the more cautious in translating into the language of ordinary life the truths attained at higher levels. For although it has been said that these truths acquire value only when they are thus translated, we must realise that this translation is one of the most difficult tasks of Spiritual Science. There are very great difficulties in making what has been observed at high levels of the spiritual world intelligible to a healthy sense of truth and acceptable to sound reasoning.

It must be emphasised again and again that when Spiritual Science is studied in our Groups the object is to create this feeling for truth. We have not merely to grasp with the intellect what has been communicated from the spiritual world; it is much more important to experience it in our feelings and so acquire qualities which everyone who strives earnestly for spiritual truth should possess.

As we look at the world around us we can say that at every point it displays to us an outer manifestation of an inner, spiritual world. For us this is now a commonplace. Just as a man's physiognomy is an expression of what is going on in his soul, so all phenomena of the external sense-world are a physiognomical expression, so to speak, of a spiritual world behind them. We understand sense-perceptions only when we can see in them expressions of the spiritual world. When by following his own path to knowledge a man cannot reach the stage at which spiritual vision is possible, he has only the material world before him, and he may ask whether his study of the material world provides any confirmation, any evidence, of communications based upon spiritual vision.

This search for evidence is always possible but it will have to be carried out with precision and not superficially. If, for example, you have followed my lectures and have read the book Occult Science, you will know that there was a time when the Earth and Sun were one, when Earth and Sun formed one body. If you bear in mind what I have said, you will agree that the animal forms and plant forms on the Earth to-day are later elaborations of those already in existence when the Earth and the Sun were one. But just as the animal forms of to-day are adapted to the conditions prevailing on the present Earth, so must the animal forms of that earlier epoch have been adapted to the conditions of the planetary body of Earth plus Sun. It follows that the animal forms which have survived from those times are not only survivors but developments of creatures which were already then in existence but could not, for instance, have possessed eyes: for eyes have purpose only when light is streaming in upon the Earth from outside, from the Sun. Accordingly, among the different creatures belonging to the animal kingdom there will be some which developed eyes after the Sun had separated from the Earth, and also animal forms which are survivors from the time when Sun and Earth were still united. Such animals will have no eyes. They would naturally belong to the lower species of animals. And we find that such creatures actually exist. Popular books tell us that animals below a certain stage of evolution have no eyes. This is confirmed by Spiritual Science.

The world around us, the world in which we ourselves live, can therefore be pictured as the ‘physiognomical’ expression of the spiritual life weaving and working behind it. If man were simply confronted by this sense-world and it did not anywhere reveal to him that it points to a spiritual world, he could never feel longing for that world. There must be a point in the sense-world where a longing for spiritual reality springs up, some point where the spiritual streams as through a door or window into the world of our everyday life. When does this happen? When does a spiritual reality light up in us? As you will know from lectures given by me and by others as well, this happens when we experience our own ‘I’, our own Ego. At this moment we actually do experience something that has a direct relation with the spiritual world. Nevertheless this experience of the ‘I’ is at the same time very meagre. It is as it were a single point amid all the phenomena of the world. The single point which we express by the little word, ‘I’, does indeed indicate something truly spiritual but this has contracted into a point. What can we learn from this spiritual reality that has contracted into the point, into the ‘I’? Through experiencing our own ‘I’ we can know no more of the spiritual world than has contracted into this single point unless we widen the experience. Nevertheless this point does contain something of great importance, namely that through it we are given an indication of the process of cognition that is necessary for knowledge of the spiritual world.

What is the difference between experience of the ‘I’ and all other experiences? The difference is that we are ourselves actually within the experience of the ‘I’. All other experiences come to us from outside.

Someone may say: ‘But my thinking, my willing, my desires, my feelings—I myself live in all that.’ In regard to willing, however, a man can convince himself by a very simple act of introspection that he cannot be said to be actually within it. The will is something that seems to be driving us on, as if we were not within it; our actions seem to be due to the pressure of some thing or some incident from outside. And it is the same with our feelings and with most of our thoughts in everyday life. How little we are really within our thinking in everyday life can be realised if we try conscientiously to note how dependent it is upon education, upon the conditions we have encountered in life. This is the reason why human thinking, feeling and willing vary so greatly in different nations and in different periods. Only one thing remains the same in all nations, in all regions and in all societies: it is the experience of the ‘I’.

Let us now ask in what this experience of the ‘I’ really consists. The matter is not as simple as it might appear. You may easily think, for instance, that you experience the ‘I’ in its real nature. But this is by no means so. We do not actually experience the ‘I’ itself but only a mental concept, a mental picture, of it. If we could really experience the ‘I’, it would present itself as something raying out on all sides to infinity. Unless the ‘I’ could confront itself as an image in a mirror, even though the image is only a point, we could not experience the ‘I’, nor could the ‘I’ create a mental picture of itself. What man experiences of the ‘I’ is a mental picture of it; but that is sufficient, for it differs entirely from every other picture in that it is identical with its original. When the ‘I’ makes a mental picture of itself it is concerned with itself alone and the picture is only the return of the ‘I’ experience into itself. There is a kind of obstruction, as if we wished to check the experience and compel it to return into itself; and in this return it confronts itself as a mirror-image. Such is the experience of the ‘I’.

It can therefore be said that we recognise the experience of the ‘I’ in the mental picture of it. But this mental picture of the ‘I’ differs radically from all other mental pictures, all other experiences which we may have. For all other mental pictures and all other experiences we need something like an organ. This is obvious in the case of outer sense-perceptions. In order to have the mental picture of a colour we must have eyes. It is quite obvious that we must have organs through which ordinary sense-perceptions reach us. You may think that no organ is necessary for what is so intimately related to our inmost self. Here too, however, you can quite easily convince yourselves that you do need an organ. You can find more precise details in my lectures on Anthroposophy; at the moment I am making it possible for you to hear in theosophical terms what was presented in those lectures rather for the benefit of the general public.

Suppose that at some period in your life you grasp a thought, an idea. You understand something that confronts you in the form of an idea. How can you understand it? Only through those ideas which you have previously mastered and made your own. You can see that this is so from the fact that when a new idea comes to a man it is accepted in one way by one person and differently by another. This is because the one person has within him a greater number of ideas than the other. All our old ideas are lodged within us and confront the new idea as the eye confronts the light. A sort of organ is formed from our own previous ideas; and for anything not formed in this way in the present incarnation we must look to earlier incarnations. This organ was formed then and we confront new ideas with it. We must have an organ through which to receive all experiences that come to us from the outer world, even when they are spiritual experiences: we never stand spiritually naked, as it were, in face of what comes to us from the external world, but we are always dependent upon what we have become. The only time we confront the world directly is when we attain a perception of the ‘I’. The ‘I’ is always there, even while we sleep, but perception of it has to be aroused every morning when we wake up. If during the night we were to journey to Mars, the conditions surrounding us would certainly be very different from those on the Earth—indeed everything would be different—except the perception of the ‘I’. This is always the same because no external organ is needed for it, not even an organ for concepts. What confronts us here is a direct perception of the ‘I’ in its true form. Everything else comes before us as a picture in a mirror and conditioned by the structure of the mirror. Perception of the ‘I’ comes to us in its own intrinsic form.

In fact we can say that when we have a mental picture of the ‘I’, we are ourselves within it and it is in no sense outside us. And now let us ask how this unique perception of the ‘I’ differs from all other perceptions. The difference lies in the fact that in the perception, the mental picture of the ‘I’, there is the direct imprint of the ‘I’, and in no other perception is this the case. But from everything around us we get pictures which can be compared with the perception of the ‘I’, for through the ‘I’ we transform everything into an inner experience. If we are to see any meaning or significance in the external world it must become a mental picture in us. Thus we form pictures of the external world which then live on in the ‘I’, no matter which organ is the channel for a sense-experience. We may smell some substance; when we are no longer in direct contact with it we still carry an image within us of the smell. The same is true of a colour we have seen; the pictures or images which come from such experiences remain in our ‘I’. The characteristic feature of all these pictures or images is that they come to us from outside. All the pictures which, as long as we live in the world of the senses, we have been able to unite with our ‘I’, are the relics of impressions received from the sense-world. But there is one thing the sense-world cannot give us—namely, perception of the ‘I’. This arises in us quite spontaneously. Thus in perception of the ‘I’ we have a picture which rises up within ourselves, contracted into a point.

Think now of other mental pictures which have not arisen from any external stimulus given by the senses but arise freely in the ‘I’ like the concept of the ‘I’ itself, and are consequently formed in the same manner. Images and pictures if this kind arise in the astral world. There are, then, mental pictures which arise in the ‘I’ without our having received any impression from outside, from the sense-world.

What distinguishes the images or pictures we derive from the sense-world from the rest of our inner experiences? Images derived from the sense-world can remain with us as images of experiences only after we have come into contact with that world; they become inner experiences although they were stimulated by the outer world. But what experiences of the ‘I’ are there that are not directly stimulated by the outer world? Our feelings, desires, impulses, instincts and so on, are such experiences. Even if we ourselves are not actually within these feelings, impulses, etc., in the sense already described, it must nevertheless be admitted that there is something which distinguishes them from the images that remain with us as a result of what our senses have perceived.—You can feel what the difference is. An image derived from the outer world is something that is at rest within us, that we try to retain as faithfully as possible. But impulses, desires and instincts represent something that is active within us, something that is an actual force.

Now although astral pictures arise without the external world having played any part, something must nevertheless have been in action, for nothing can exist as an effect without a cause. What causes a sense-image is the impression made by the outer world. What causes an astral picture is what lies at the root of desires, impulses, feelings, and so on. In ordinary life to-day, however, man is protected from developing in his feelings a force strong enough to cause pictures to arise which would be experienced in the same way as the picture of the ‘I’ itself. The significant feature of modern man's soul is that its impulses and desires are not strong enough to create a picture of what the ‘I’ sets before them. When the ‘I’ confronts the strong forces of the external world it is stimulated to form pictures. When it lives within itself, in a normal man it has only one single opportunity of experiencing an emerging picture, namely, when the picture is that of the ‘I’ itself.

Impulses and desires are therefore not strong enough to create pictures comparable with the ‘I’-experience. If they are to work strongly enough they must acquire a certain quality, a most important quality that is inherent in all sense-experiences. Sense-experiences do not behave just to suit us: if, for instance, someone lives in a room in which he hears an irritating noise, he cannot get rid of it by means of his impulses and desires. Through a mere impulse or desire nobody can turn a yellow flower into a red one because he prefers it. It is characteristic of the sense-world that its manifestations are quite independent of us. This is certainly not true of our impulses, desires and passions which are entirely consonant with our personal life. What, then, must happen to them in the process of intensification that is necessary to make them into pictures? They must become like the external world which does not consult our wishes in regard to its structure and the production of sense-images but compels us to give to the image we make the form imparted to it by the surrounding world.

If pictures of the astral world are to be correctly formed a man must be as detached from himself, from his personal sympathies and antipathies, as he is from sense-images he forms of the outer world. What he desires or wishes must be a matter of complete indifference to him. In the last lecture I said that this requirement simply means the complete absence of egoism. But this must not be taken lightly. It is no easy matter to be without egoism.

The following must also be borne in mind. Our interest in what comes to us from the outside world is vastly different from our interest in what arises within ourselves. The interest a man takes in his inner life is infinitely greater than his interest in the external world. You certainly know people who, when they have transformed something in the external world into an image, are apt to make it conform with their subjective feelings. Such people often spin the wildest yarns even when they are not actually lying, and believe what they say. Sympathy and antipathy always play a part here and create delusions about the external reality, causing the subsequent image to be distorted. But these are exceptional cases, for a man would not get very far if he were himself to create delusions in his daily life. There would be perpetual clashes with the circumstances of outer existence, but willy-nilly he is bound to acknowledge the truth of the external world; reality itself puts him right. It is the same with ordinary sense-experiences: the external reality is a sound corrective. This is no longer the case when a man begins to have inner experiences: it is not so easy for him then to let the external reality set him right and he therefore allows himself to be influenced by his own interests, his own sympathies and antipathies.

If we aspire to penetrate into the spiritual world, it is all-important for us to learn to confront our own self with the same absence of bias with which we confront the external world. In the ancient Pythagorean schools this truth was formulated in strictly precise terms, particularly for the department of knowledge concerned with the question of immortality. Think of all the people who are interested in the subject of immortality. It is normal for men to long for immortality, for a life beyond birth and death. But that is a purely personal interest, a personal longing. You will not be particularly interested if a tumbler gets broken; but if people had the same personal interest in the continued existence of a tumbler, even if broken, as they have in the immortality of the soul, you may be sure that most of them would believe in the immortality of a tumbler!

For this reason it was felt in the Pythagorean schools that no-one is really ready to know the truth about immortality unless he could endure it if he were told that man is not immortal and his question whether man is immortal had to be answered with a ‘no’. If immortality is to mean anything for a man himself in the spiritual world, then—so said the teacher in the Pythagorean schools—he must not yearn for it; for as long as a man yearns for immortality, what he says about it will not be objective. Weighty opinions about the life beyond birth and death can come only from those who could contemplate the grave with equal calm if there were no immortality. This was the teaching in the Pythagorean schools because it was essential that the pupils should understand how difficult it is to be mature enough to face the truth.

To state a truth on the basis of this maturity calls for very special preparation, which requires us to be entirely uninterested in its implications. Especially with regard to immortality, more than other problems, it is quite impossible to think that many people have no interest in the subject. Of course there are people who have been told about reincarnation and the eternity of man's existence, in spite of the fact that they are by no means disinterested. Everyone can take in the truth and use it for the benefit of life—including those who have not the task of formulating it themselves. There is no reason to reject a truth because one does not feel ready for it. On the contrary, it is quite sufficient for the needs of life to receive the truth and dedicate one's powers to its service.

What is the necessary complement to the reception of truths? They can be received and assimilated without misgiving even if we are not completely ready for them. But the necessary complement is this.—To make ourselves ready for truth with the same ardour with which we long for it in order to have inner peace, contentment and a sure footing in life, and at the same time to be cautious in proclaiming higher truths ourselves—truths which can only be confirmed in the spiritual world.

An important precept for our spiritual life can be gained from this. We should be receptive to anything we need and apply it in life; but we should be duly suspicious of truths we ourselves proclaim, especially if they are connected with our own astral experiences. This means that we must be particularly careful about making use of astral experiences at points where we cannot be disinterested, especially at the point where our own life comes into consideration.

Let us assume that through his astral development a man is mature enough to ascertain something that will be his destiny tomorrow. That is a personal experience. He should, however, refrain from making investigations in the book of his personal life for there he cannot possibly be disinterested. People may ask why it is that clairvoyants do not try to ascertain the time of their own death. The reason is that they could never be wholly disinterested about such a happening and they must hold aloof from everything relating to their personal concerns. We can only investigate in the spiritual worlds, with any hope that the results will have objective validity, matters which we are quite sure are unrelated to our personal concerns. A man who resolves to promulgate only what is objectively valid, apart altogether from his own interests, must never speak about anything that concerns or affects himself as the result of investigations or impressions from a higher world. He must be quite certain that his personal interests have played no part whatever in these results. But it is extremely difficult for him to be quite sure of this.

It is therefore a fundamental principle at the beginning of all spiritual aspirations that efforts should be made not to regard as authoritative anything that affects one personally. Everything personal must be strictly excluded. I need only add that this is extremely difficult to do: often enough when one thinks that everything of a personal nature has been excluded it proves not to have been so. For this reason, most of the astral pictures which appear to people are nothing more than a kind of reflection of their own wishes and passions. These spiritual experiences do no harm at all as long as people are strong-minded enough to remind themselves that they must be suspicious of them. Only when that strength of mind fails, when a man comes to regard these experiences as authoritative in his life—only then does he lose his bearings. It is then rather as if he were trying to get out of a room at a place where there is no door and consequently he runs his head against the wall. Hence this principle must never be forgotten: Test your spiritual experiences with extreme caution. No other value save that of being a means of knowledge, of enlightenment, should attach to these experiences; our personal life should not be governed or directed by them. If they are regarded as means of enlightenment then we are on safe ground, for in that case, as soon as a contradictory idea crops up it can also be corrected.

What I have said today is only part of the many studies we shall undertake this winter. I also wanted to give you something that can be a preparation for the study of Psychosophy, of man's life of soul, which will be the subject of the lectures during the week following the General Meeting.

(From an incomplete transcript)

When we contemplate the world around us we find as our environment on Earth the beings of the mineral, plant, animal and human kingdoms, and whatever belongs to and is produced from these kingdoms—mountains, rivers, clouds and so forth. We look up to the heavens and as we contemplate the stars and the planets we shall realise as the result of anthroposophical study that, like the Earth, these different celestial bodies have their inhabitants. But as man turns his gaze to his earthly environment and also to the heavens, he finds in this spatial environment Beings who are connected with one part only of himself. We know from Anthroposophy that man is a fourfold being, composed of physical body, etheric body, astral body and Ego, and that in sleep the Ego and astral body separate from the physical and etheric bodies. But the Universe we perceive through our senses is related to our physical body only, not to our astral body or Ego. The only exceptions are two celestial bodies: the Sun and the Moon. The Sun and the Moon are the abodes of spiritual Beings just as the Earth is the abode of man. The other celestial bodies are also peopled by spiritual Beings but during his life between birth and death man is related to them in an indirect way only. In this respect the Sun and Moon are exceptions. They are the two gates or portals through which, in physical life on Earth too, men are linked with the spiritual world. The Sun is connected with our Ego, the Moon with our astral body.

We shall begin to understand this if we turn to what has been said in the different books and lecture-courses.

You know that the Moon, now moving independently through cosmic space, was once united with the Earth; at a certain point of time it liberated itself and went out into the Universe where it now forms a kind of colony of the Earth. This applies not only to the physical Moon but also to the Beings who inhabit it. You know too that the Earth was once inhabited both by men and by certain higher Beings who were the first great Teachers of humanity. They were not incarnated in physical bodies as men are to-day but only in etheric bodies. Nevertheless intercourse between men and these Beings continued until the Atlantean epoch. In those primeval ages on Earth men were exhorted at certain times to maintain complete stillness and calm in their souls, to be oblivious of their physical environment. And then, in those primeval men—we ourselves, in fact, for we were all on Earth in previous lives—it was as if the Great Teachers spoke from within them and they felt this as Inspiration. These Beings did not communicate their messages and teachings to men as we communicate with one another to-day, but in the way I have indicated. Works giving expression to a wonderful, primordial wisdom were the fruits of this intercourse. Modern man is fundamentally arrogant, priding himself on being infinitely clever. And so indeed he is, in comparison with the men of those remote ages. But cleverness by itself leads neither to wisdom nor to real knowledge. Cleverness is due to the intellect and intellect is not the only instrument for acquiring knowledge. It was by deeper forces of the soul that men in primeval times were led to the knowledge which they did not express in intellectual phraseology or in terms of our pedantic grammar—for all grammar is pedantic—but in language that was half poetry. Beings at an advanced stage of evolution, the primeval sages who taught men through Inspiration, were the originators of works of supreme beauty, fragments of which have been preserved to this day. Only the dull-witted could fail to wonder at the Vedic literature, the Yoga and Vedanta philosophy of India, the lore of ancient Persia and Egypt. The more thoroughly we steep ourselves in these records, the more obvious it is that although we of the modern age are far cleverer than those ancient men, the knowledge they presented in a most beautiful, poetic form leads very deeply into world-mysteries. The scripts which fill us with such admiration and astonishment if our hearts are rightly attuned are only the last vestiges of the wonderful, primordial wisdom that once existed in humanity as oral tradition and that Spiritual Science alone is able to investigate. But men have outgrown this wisdom in its primal form. They would not have reached maturity nor achieved freedom in knowledge through their own efforts had they continued at the stage of that ancient wisdom.

The great Teachers, having fulfilled their task, left the Earth together with the Moon which as a physical planet had gone out into the Universe. Today the great Teachers form a kind of spiritual colony on the Moon and a seer who investigates the Moon with the help of Initiation-Science finds it peopled by those wise Beings who were once the companions of men. The wisdom of these Beings can even now be investigated through a higher development of the faculties described in the book Knowledge of the Higher Worlds. These Beings have an important task to perform for humanity—a task which it is difficult to describe in earthly words.

The Moon Beings keep the “books,” the records, of the whole past of humanity and of every individual man. These books are not, of course, anything in the least like the volumes in our libraries but this designation is nevertheless justifiable. The “books” contain records of what every individual human being has experienced in his successive earthly lives. When we are descending from the Cosmos to the Earth from the existence stretching between death and a new birth, we come into inner contact with the records of our past in these great “books” kept by the Moon sages. Before we arrive on the Earth, this past is imprinted in the astral body we bring with us into earthly existence and in that astral body are the “entries” made by the Moon Beings.

In ordinary circumstances these entries do not reach the head. During earthly life the head is by no means an organ of outstanding importance, although it is, of course, essential for the concepts and ideas relating to outer, material existence. What is inscribed into man during the final stage of his descent from the Cosmos to the Earth is inscribed—believe it or not as you will—into the part of him we call the spiritual side of the metabolic-limb system. The inscriptions therefore lie deep down in the unconscious, but they are actually there and they pass over into the process of growth, into the health and above all they determine what I will call the “curability” (Heilbarkeit) of a human being when he is ill on Earth. It is obviously important to understand the nature of illness but even more important to understand how to heal. Supersensible knowledge itself is an essential help, for this reveals what has been inscribed from the Akasha Chronicle by the Moon Beings into the forces of the process of growth, into the forces of nourishment, into the forces of breathing, and so on. It is these inscriptions that determine whether a man puts up strong or only slight resistance to the healing of an illness. One individual will be easily healed, another only with difficulty. This is entirely dependent upon how the karma from previous earthly lives makes it possible for the inscriptions to take effect.

When we think about what the Moon, together with the Beings who inhabit it spiritually, means for us on the Earth, we are finally led to say that the Moon is intimately connected with our past, with our previous earthly lives. To understand what the Moon existence out yonder in cosmic space means on Earth is to have intuitive perception of man's past. Destiny is formed out of what we bring over from our previous earthly life, that is to say, from our past, and what we experience during the present life. And out of what can be experienced in the present life, together with our past, our future destiny takes shape.

In its cosmic aspect, therefore, the Moon with its Beings is revealed as the power which carves the pattern of our past in our destiny. You will realise from this how little is known to-day about the true functions of the celestial bodies. Information about the Moon such as we are accustomed to hear from the physical sciences to-day is not knowledge in the true sense. A modern physicist who purports to describe the Moon assumes that the mountain ranges depicted on lunar maps were always there. This is a very naive belief. The Moon Beings themselves were always there, the soul-and-spirit belonging to the Moon was always there, but not the physical substance. You will be able to understand this by thinking of man himself. In the course of a man's earthly life the physical substances in his body are perpetually changing. After a period of seven to eight years, all the substances originally within us have been replaced. What has remained is the soul-and-spirit, and the same applies to the heavenly bodies. The substance of the Moon, although of longer duration than the substance of the human body, has all changed in the course of the ages; spirit-and-soul alone has remained. With these things in mind, our view of the Universe is altogether different from that presented by the material knowledge of to-day. This knowledge is extremely astute, highly intellectual; above all it can calculate with deadly accuracy. The calculations are accurate—but they are not true. Suppose someone makes calculations about the structure of the heart. He scrutinises it to-day and again in a month's time. It has changed, very slightly. After another month the change is again slight, and then he works out to what extent the heart changes in a year. He need only multiply and he has the figure for ten years. He can calculate what the measurements of the heart were three hundred years ago, and what they will be three hundred years from now. The calculations will certainly be correct. Only—the heart did not exist three hundred years ago, nor will it exist three hundred years hence! The same procedure is adopted in other cases. The calculations are invariably correct but they do not tally with the reality! The same applies to the outer substantiality of the heavenly bodies. Their substance changes but the element of soul-and-spirit remains. And in the case of the Moon it is this element of soul-and-spirit that is woven into our destiny by the great Recorders of our past life and therefore constitutes part of the web of our destiny.

So the Moon is in truth one of the portals showing man the way into the spiritual world—the world out of which his destiny is woven by Beings who were once his wise companions of the Earth in times when men themselves wove their destiny instinctively. The weaving of destiny now takes place entirely in the subconscious.

Still another portal leads into the spiritual world: it is the portal of the Sun. When through Initiation-science we acquire knowledge of the Sun, the Beings we encounter are not connected with the Earth in the same way as the Moon Beings; in the Sun sphere we do not encounter Beings who once had their abode on the Earth. The Beings we encounter in the Sun are referred to in the book Occult Science as the Angeloi and the higher Beings of the Hierarchies. When I say “in the Sun,” you must of course picture such Beings in the whole Sun sphere, in the flood of light radiating from the Sun.

The Sun is the abode of the Angeloi, one of whom is always connected with an individual human being. We ourselves, in respect of our Ego are connected with these higher Beings through our Sun existence. The Angeloi are in a certain sense the cosmic prototypes of men, for in future times man will attain their rank. These Beings, with whose nature we ourselves have a certain relationship, have their abode in the Sun sphere. From this you will realise that just as our past is connected with the Moon existence, so is our future connected with the Sun existence. Moon and Sun represent our past and our future. When we know on the one side that the Moon Beings are the “bookkeepers,” the “recorders” of our past, that records of our past earthly lives are inscribed, as it were, on the leaves of their books, Initiation-Science makes it clear that we must turn to the Angeloi when we give any thought to our future. Just as what we have done in the past works on into our present life, the things we do in the present must work on into the future. But this is possible only through the Angeloi who direct their gaze to a man's present deeds and bring them to effect in the future.

It is good and right to take account of this function of the Angeloi. We do many things that ought to bear fruit in the future. Humanity of the present age has become sadly thoughtless about such matters. When a man has performed some deed he should think of his Angelos, saying inwardly: “May my Guardian Spirit receive this my deed as a root and from it bring forth fruit.” The more definite and vivid the imagery used when a man addresses his Angelos in connection with deeds which should subsequently bear fruit, the more abundant this fruit can be in the future.

And so the Moon Beings preserve our past destiny and the Sun Beings weave new destiny for the future. It is not outer, physical light alone that the Sun and Moon send down to the Earth. Being connected as it is with our astral body, the Moon provides the initial impulse whereby everything from our past is woven into our destiny. The Sun is connected with our Ego and through the Beings who are a prototype of our future cosmic existence, has to do with our future destiny. And so the heavenly mirror-pictures of our destiny are images of the relationship between Sun and Moon.

Initiation-Science explains and confirms these facts. When a man has achieved the necessary degree of development as I have described it in the book Knowledge of the Higher Worlds, he then sees, when he contemplates the Full Moon, not only what normal consciousness sees. In the light of the Full Moon he perceives his past destiny, the content of his previous earthly life. And when with enhanced spiritual vision he focuses his gaze upon the place occupied by the dark, physically invisible New Moon, its dark shadow becomes for him the great Admonisher formed by his destiny, proclaiming to him what his attitude must be to actions in his previous earthly life in order that he may make compensation for them in the further course of his karma.

It is possible for a man to establish a similar relationship with the Sun. This enables him to have an inkling of future destinies—a general glimpse, at least, without specific details.

If we now turn from the cosmic aspect to man himself, we find that human destiny is woven in a wonderful way out of two kinds of circumstances. When two individuals meet each other, one of them, let us say, in his twenty-fifth year, the other in his thirtieth, it may be the case—not, of course, always—that when the one or the other looks back over his life up to this point he realises with absolute certainty that each of them has pursued his path of life as though they were deliberately seeking for one another. To ignore such things simply denotes lack of thought. The child had already set out upon the path that led inevitably to the other human being and the latter's path too led to the common meeting-point. All this took place in the subconscious realm—but what has been at work there? Think of the one individual as A and the other as B. Before entering into earthly life, A descended through the Moon sphere. The Moon Beings had inscribed in their records and also into his astral body, what he had experienced in common with B in the past earthly life, and these entries made by the Moon Beings in the Akasha Chronicle influenced the paths taken by both A and B. From the moment they meet, the subconscious is no longer all-important, for the two now come face to face and make a certain impression on one another. This is not a case of conservation of the past; it is the present that is now at work. The Angeloi intervene and lead the individuals concerned to further stages. The forces of Sun existence are now operating, so that within a man's inmost being, Sun and Moon together weave his destiny. This can be clearly visualised by thoughtful perception of the course of human life.

When two individuals meet, the impression they make upon each other may be intrinsically different. There are cases where one of the two takes the other right into the sphere of his will, of his feelings. The outer, personal impression has had little influence here. Intellectualists have no understanding of what is going on inwardly in such cases, for one of the most wonderful experiences imaginable is to see what kind of relationship is formed when two human beings come across each other for the first time. It may happen that A takes B into the sphere of his will by saying to himself: What B does I want to do myself; what pleases him, also pleases me.—Now B may be unsightly and unattractive and nobody can conceive that he could possibly be pleasing to A.—You see, the attraction in this case is not caused by the reasoning mind or by the sense-impressions, but by the deeper forces of the soul—by the will and what goes from the will into the heart. However unsightly the other may be, he has become so only in the present earthly life. The origin of the bond between the two lies in the experiences they shared in the previous life. Seen from outside it seems that the two cannot possibly live in harmony, but the fact is that what is present subconsciously in each of them leads their wills together. Even in childhood this often becomes evident. A child tries so hard to be like “him,” to have the same wishes as “he” has, to feel as “he” feels. A karmic connection is certainly present in such circumstances.

That is one kind of meeting between individuals and if they were alive to such happenings—as will inevitably be the case in a by no means distant future, when more attention will be paid to man's inner nature—the working of the will would indicate that past earthly lives have already been spent in company with such individuals; moreover subconscious soul-forces give hints of experiences shared with others in the past incarnation.

The other kind of meeting is this.—One individual comes across another but no relationship whatever is established between their wills; the aesthetic or mental impression is predominant. How often it happens that a man A makes the acquaintance of man B, but does not afterwards refer to him with the warmth or abhorrence with which he speaks of someone with whom he has a karmic connection from earlier times. One may praise an individual with whom there is no karmic tie, one may appreciate him, consider him a splendid fellow, but he makes no effect upon the will—he makes an effect only upon the mind, upon the aesthetic sense.

That is the second kind of meeting between individuals. If the effect made by the two upon each other reaches into the will, into the heart, into the inmost nature, then a karmic connection exists; the two individuals have been led to each other as the result of common experiences in the past earthly life. If an effect made by another person reaches only into the intellect, into the aesthetic sense, this is not an outcome of the Moon's activity, but a situation brought about by the Sun and one that will have its sequel only in the future. And so through a thoughtful, observant study of human life we can learn to perceive the signs of karmic connections.

What I have now told you is a fruit of knowledge attainable through Anthroposophy, and just as nobody need himself be an artist to see beauty in a picture, as little need a man himself be an Initiate to understand these things. They can be understood because the ideas harmonise. There are people who say: The spiritual world is no concern of ours; we shall understand it only when we are actually in it.—They say this because they are accustomed nowadays to accept as proof only what can be confirmed in a material, physical way. Such people are like dunderheads who say: Everything in the wide world must be supported—otherwise it falls down; the Earth, the Moon, the Sun—all have their places in cosmic space but they must have supports to prevent them from falling! Such people do not know that the cosmic bodies mutually support each other. Anthroposophy calls for this kind of understanding. Its ideas cannot be supported by external, physical proofs, but for all that they mutually support each other. When you read an anthroposophical book for the first time, you may lay it aside because you are accustomed to find everything proved up to the hilt and in this book there are no such proofs. But if you read on you will find that like the cosmic bodies the ideas support and sustain each other.

The teachings can be understood even when one is not an Initiate, but through Initiation-Science they become much more concretely real and are experienced differently. Therefore someone who is sufficiently advanced is able to speak in a different way about the web of human destiny that is woven out of the past, the present and the future. The experiences of a person who has reached a certain stage of Initiation become much more concrete.—Suppose that somebody is standing in front of you; he tells you something and you hear it clearly. An Initiate can hear the inner voice as well as the outer; he can hear the spiritual speech which is no less clear than ordinary human speech. A person with whom an Initiate was karmically connected in the past and whom he meets in the present life, speaks to him as clearly and unambiguously as people speak in the ordinary way. The Initiate hears an inner speech. You will say: then an Initiate must have around him a whole collection of people who speak to him with varying degrees of clarity. And that is actually the case. At the same time it is concrete proof of the way in which the previous earthly life has been spent. I have said that the Moon Beings, the great Recorders, register destiny; but immediately an Initiate encounters someone with whom he was karmically connected in the previous earthly life, the light of the Full Moon radiates to him the recorded ‘entries’ of the other individual.

What we think and do in the immediate present does not at once speak to us, but after a certain time, by no means very long, our deeds that have been registered by the Moon Beings become living and, in a sense, articulate. The Akashic pictures are living pictures; if you discover the content of a past earthly life you learn to know both yourself and the other human being concerned. Common experiences of the past incarnation rise up into consciousness; no wonder that we hear them speak both from within ourselves and from within the other individual. We are united inwardly with those with whom we were associated in the previous earthly life.

In the future men must develop a delicate feeling for the stirrings of the will when meeting another person. In about seven to nine thousand years all human beings on the Earth will be able to hear those with whom they are karmically connected, speaking from within.

Now if, after Initiation has been attained, a meeting takes place with someone with whom there is no karmic bond, who is encountered for the first time, again the experience is different. Naturally, an Initiate may also come across individuals with whom he is not karmically connected. In any case his experience will differ from that of others. He has a fine and delicate feeling for new facts revealed by the individual confronting him, in this case, as a cosmic being.

An individual encountered for the first time enables us to see more deeply into the Cosmos. It is a piece of good fortune to meet such a person and recognition that this meeting enlarges our knowledge of the world must develop into fine sensitivity. An Initiate has a certain obligation in connection with every individual with whom he has no karmic connection from the past, whom he encounters for the first time in the Cosmos (the spiritual world). He must link himself with the spiritual Being belonging to the realm of the Angeloi who is the Guardian Spirit of this individual. He must become acquainted not only with the individual himself but with his Guardian Angel as well. The Guardian Angel of this individual speaks unambiguously from within him. Hence when an Initiate encounters different human beings with whom he has no karmic bond, he hears a clear and definite speech. He hears what the Angeloi of these individuals are saying.

This gives a certain character to the intercourse between an Initiate and ordinary men. He takes into himself what the Angelos wishes to say to the person who has come into his ken; he transforms himself as it were into the Angelos of this person and what he can say to the latter is therefore more intimate than it is for ordinary consciousness. The Initiate is actually a different being in all his contacts with individuals whose first meeting with him is in the Cosmos, because he has identified himself with the Angelos of each individual concerned. This is the secret of the faculty of self-transformation possessed by those who with the power bestowed by Initiation come face to face with other men. People to-day have very little feeling for such things compared with the faculty of perception they possessed in centuries by no means very long ago. It might have happened then that a sage, confronting twenty other persons, would have been described quite differently by each of them. The commonplace verdict in such circumstances would be that as each of the twenty descriptions given was quite different from all the rest, none of the twenty writers actually saw the individual in question. But perhaps they all did! He changed in every case by establishing a link with the Angelos of each person concerned.

In this connection a veritable abyss lies between what is accepted usage today and what was taken for granted not so very long ago. A great deal of learning is available in our time but it is communicated in an entirely different way. In the higher training given in an epoch not far behind us, those who were called upon to be leaders of the people as priests or teachers were taught to develop the capacity to unite themselves with the Angelos of a human being. But even remembrance of this has vanished. Knowledge of the Angeloi was indispensable for those who aspired to be leaders of mankind, in order to develop the power of self-transformation.

And now something else.—It will strike you as extraordinary—I have spoken of it in the book Christianity as Mystical Fact—that there are great similarities in biographies of ancient Initiates. Study these biographies and you will find that very many features are alike, for the great Initiates underwent similar experiences in their souls. Biographies of ordinary human beings would never be alike. If those who encountered Zarathustra had all written about him, every characterisation would have been different, because Zarathustra changed every time an individual came before him. What the world was meant to know about the great Initiates was biography inspired by higher Spirits.

When the meeting between an Initiate and some individual takes place for the first time in the Cosmos, the Initiate has to establish contact with the Angelos of that individual. In doing so he acquires a great deal of knowledge about the outer spiritual world. In point of fact one cannot acquire deeper knowledge of other human beings through spiritual faculties without learning to know a host of Angeloi. A true knowledge of man is impossible without knowledge of the Angeloi. Just as human beings not karmically connected with each other acquire knowledge of the surrounding world through ordinary perception, the Initiate gains knowledge of the world of the Angeloi—which is then the bridge between himself and the higher Hierarchies.

There are also other indications of the existence of a karmic connection. We may meet an individual and then have a great deal to do with him, work with him and so on, but we never dream about him. The reason is that the karmic connection is not with our astral body, but only with our Ego.

We may come across someone of whom we have only a fleeting glance and yet he follows us into our very dreams—into our waking dreams too. Our picture of him is quite unconnected with his outward appearance and has arisen entirely in the inner life, because we have a karmic tie with him. Again we may meet someone with whom we are karmically connected and feel impelled to paint him. An artist may paint a portrait in which an uncultured person sees no likeness whatever, whereas an Initiate may recognise a previous incarnation of the individual whose portrait has been painted. We get to know someone with whom we have a karmic connection in the depths of his being although the knowledge may remain subconscious. Through individuals with whom we have had no previous karmic connection, whom we meet for the first time, we enlarge our knowledge of humanity in general.

When you go to a tea-party or some such function, just keep your ears open and listen to the conversation.—If someone has met another individual with whom he is karmically connected, he will say little about the others present, but about this particular individual he will say something of real significance, especially if he is unaware of what is behind it all. At the same kind of tea-party you may get into conversation with someone with whom you have no karmic connection at all. Your interest in him is very superficial and he seems to you to be typical of all the other guests. Such a gathering is very brief as a rule, and a great deal of talk goes on about world affairs, about noted politicians and the like. After listening to these few people we may judge the whole of society by this criterion. The judgement may be erroneous but nevertheless it is through individuals with whom we have no karmic connection that another aspect of the world is presented to us. There was once a traveller who happened to reach Konigsberg Station at midnight. He asked for a cup of coffee and was addressed in very coarse language by the red-headed waiter who had been dozing. The traveller wrote in his diary: “The people of Konigsberg have red hair, are sleepy and coarse.” He was judging all the people of Konigsberg by this night-waiter—someone with whom he had no karmic connection!

Through studies of this kind we learn not only how to assess life and its values, but we get nearer to other human beings and are connected with them in a different way. We learn not only to understand human life—which is the essential task of Anthroposophy—we also learn to know cosmic life. Sun and Moon cease to be the subject of abstract theories and become living realities in the Cosmos—the great counterparts in the Universe of the microcosmic destiny of men on the Earth.

Sun-activity combines with Moon-activity in our life. The light radiating to us from the Moon is connected with our cosmic past and the light of the Sun is connected with our cosmic future.

It was the aim of the Christmas Meeting, when the Anthroposophical Society was given a new foundation, to stress the importance of Anthroposophy for life itself. It was said that esotericism in the true sense of the word must be a living power among us. The Christmas Meeting was not intended merely to be a festive gathering of a number of Anthroposophists, but its efficacy and its impulses were meant to endure. One new plan is to issue a News Sheet—as a matter of fact the first three numbers have already appeared—containing reports of what is going on in the Anthroposophical Society. The Society must become a kind of living, spiritual organism. On my journeys I have constantly found Members in The Hague, for example, saying: “We have no idea what the Members in Vienna are doing, and yet we belong to an Anthroposophical Society!”—I wonder how many here in Zurich could tell me what is going on in the Groups of the Society in Leipzig or Hamburg? But this is what must be possible in future. Members of the New Zealand Group should have a real picture of what is going on in Vienna, and so on. It will be helpful if the Members will send to the editorial office of the News Sheet accounts of their experiences both in the Society and outside it. This material will then be edited, and Members will be able to read about whatever is going on in the Society. I propose in future to include in the News Sheet short, concentrated aphorisms for use in the Group Meetings or on other occasions.

All these measures should instil real life, pulsating life, into the Anthroposophical Society, and every Member should realise that this was the aim of the Christmas Meeting. Moreover it is only because this is how things ought to be, and indeed must be, if Anthroposophy itself is to do justice to its past and future, that I have undertaken the Presidency, associated with an Executive which I know will work fruitfully from the centre at the Goetheanum. I had for many years kept apart from all administrative matters, and had it not been an absolute necessity I should not have thought of starting anew and repeating in old age what one did as a young man. I want to appeal to every Member of the Anthroposophical Society to help in ensuring that through the Christmas Meeting the foundation stone of anthroposophical life shall be laid in the hearts of our Members and that it shall develop as a living seed, so that active life may constantly increase in the Society. If that happens, the Society will also be able to send its impulse out into the world.

at the first Anthroposophical College Course at the Goetheanum

Question: How can we recognize the different temperaments in children and in ourselves?

Rudolf Steiner: I would like to say a few words about temperament, more to point out how, under the influence of the pedagogy that we want to cultivate in Waldorf schools, intellectualism and the other soul qualities gradually become an art of education. What is important is that it should not be a matter of mere skill or of pure science in education, but that it should be an art. This presupposes that one is able to observe the human being from all sides, that one has made a great effort to grasp the nuances of the soul life as revealed in the different temperaments. First more theoretically, then, as soon as one has grasped what you find in our anthroposophical literature in various descriptions of the temperaments, by applying it to life. In many cases, this is a method of convincing oneself of the truth that anthroposophy can help when it is seen in the spirit; it is a method of having life confirm it. Life's experiences will present themselves to us at every turn, showing how what is seen in the spirit - or even just appropriated by learning what the seer has seen - must then be transferred into life.

So it should be a more or less long path of one's own study of the human being, and I would like to say about the whole human being. When this has been passed on to the teacher, then what comes out at the end is something like a rounded handling of life. Let us assume that a teacher has been trained in the way I have only been able to sketch it out, in that he has looked into the being of the developing human being with certain glances, and he comes to teach after such preparation. Then the following can happen: he speaks with a child in class. This child, to whom he asks a question, will prepare to answer with a certain ease and indifference. The teacher has a certain idea of how the answer should be. The child easily decides to give the answer, gives an answer without showing that the decision is difficult for him. In the end, one has the feeling that —- one acquires a certain certainty in this feeling only by allowing what I have described to happen: Yes, that is an answer, it is approximately correct, but this answer came about because this child has forgotten much of what I have already taught. The answer is such that much more could be added to it. And I may be led to add much more. The child accepts this and sits down again. I am dealing with a sanguine child.

I ask a question of a second child. The child shows me as I get up that it takes a certain resolve to approach the question. So it allows the question to approach it, not moving its face back and forth, but looking at me quite rigidly. It allows the question to approach it. Now, after it has heard the question, it is silent for a while. It will take a special art to observe and evaluate such reactions in the right way when teaching in a game of questions and answers. Only after a certain pause, which is, so to speak, completely neutral, can you see an effort in the child to come to a decision, to formulate the answer. One will find that the answer is difficult for him, that the child has to struggle to formulate the answer. For such things one must be able to acquire the necessary sense of tact. And one will generally find that this child brings everything he can muster to give the answer. And one will notice from the child's whole bearing – especially from the fact that he probably lowers his face a little – that he is not entirely satisfied with his answer. One will therefore be able to notice anticipation and retrospective feeling, anticipation and empathy before and after the answer: one is dealing with a melancholy child.

You ask a third child a question. You may need to ask the question a second time, because you realize that the child has not fully understood it. The child barely takes in the question completely, you may have to make an effort to formulate the question again forcefully, and so on. Then the child does not make the gesture with his hand, but in his soul [Rudolf Steiner demonstrates the gesture]. It says something to you; there is then something in the words - you have to have a feeling for this - sometimes something that does not correspond to the question: you are dealing with a phlegmatic child.

Then a fourth child. It has long been noticed that this child is eager to answer and wants to be asked questions. You ask it a question and you can hear how the answer bubbles up. How it says something in some way beyond the answer that one expected. This has nothing to do with the method, or that the answer may not be given correctly, but it is a matter of the habitus, how the child behaves, namely that it pushes itself to do so. One must develop a feeling for what is going on in the sphere of temperament – because it is not at all the case that the child who pushes to answer and wants to be asked is much more knowledgeable than the other. Perhaps it does not even know as much as the phlegmatic child. It is not a matter of the method or something learned, but of the feeling habitus, the sentience habitus. There may be a very poor answer. Nevertheless, you can recognize the choleric child by the way he behaves. And so, if you observe the essence of the human being in the right, lively way – if you stand in front of the children in the first lesson, you can tell from their corresponding expression – if you are only able to assess them correctly – what temperament you are dealing with.

Of course, this is just one example. It can also be observed in other ways. What matters is that the educational theory gained from anthroposophy becomes an art of education, so that, just as the artist nuances in color, sees something in color that the other person cannot see, so one sees something in the child that the other person does not see and perceive, and so one must first become acquainted with the nature of the child.

Question: How can we influence the temperaments through colors?

Rudolf Steiner: I refer you to the booklet “The Education of the Child in the Light of Anthroposophy”, which was published many years ago. I will try to explain some of it to you.

Let us assume, then, that a child faces you at an early age as a choleric child. It will not take a game of questions and answers to figure it out, but it may show itself by kicking terribly at every opportunity, by throwing itself on the floor and beating itself. All these expressions are the corresponding ones in the choleric child.

Now, if you are a layperson, you will probably believe that you can tame such a child by placing it in a calming, colorful environment if possible. But that is not true. If you surround the choleric child with blue or dress him in blue clothes, then precisely because he has the disposition for it, when he is surrounded by this calming blue color, which he does not reject, he will act out his choleric temperament. He will become even more “z'widerer,” more rumbling. On the other hand, if the child is surrounded by red, the exciting red color, you know from other lectures that the complementary color is green, the green-bluish complementary color is evoked. The child, when constantly surrounded by red, has to make an effort internally to experience the complementary color internally and is not externally excited. So the same thing, that is what has a calming effect on an excited child.

On the other hand, you will have a good effect on a melancholy child if you get him to come out of himself by bringing him into a blue, greenish-blue environment; so don't be afraid that if you give him a calming, adoring environment, you will make him even more melancholy.

The point here is to really understand how it follows from the essence of man that you fight fire with fire. You see, it is always a matter of starting from the essence of man and using the knowledge you gain to approach life. But I would like to make it quite clear that a mechanistic view must be avoided when considering education as an art. And when we ask how we can influence temperaments by means of colors and such things, we must not fall into the trap of intellectual systematization. If education becomes an art, then one does not arrive at such intellectual schematizing. When dealing with color, one does not look at the temperaments, but in general one is more concerned with whether the child is an excited or an unexcited child. It may also happen, for example, that a phlegmatic child may have to be treated in the same way with colors as a melancholic child, and so on. In short, the aim is to develop a living art of education from a living science of education.

Question: Is it beneficial for children to look back as early as five or six years of age?

Rudolf Steiner: I do not know what prompted the question about children looking back. I also do not know if the question arises from experience. It seems so, because it is written here. I am actually surprised that this question has been asked, because I would have thought that such nonsense, having five- to six-year-old children look back, would not actually occur. As you know from my writings, looking back is practiced, in particular, from “How to Know Higher Worlds” in order to advance spiritually and to gradually arrive at a real spiritual view. And you can easily imagine what a profound effect it has on a person when such a review is practiced, when you consider that the other thinking, the one that runs along in the course of natural phenomena, is the thinking of ordinary consciousness. When we now, through a certain inner effort, try to formulate a review in such a way that we, as it were, go through the events of the day backwards from evening to morning, we snatch ourselves away from precisely this ordinary thinking and imagining and experiencing of things. We break free. And by doing this radically, in such a contrary way, we gradually achieve an inner emancipation of the soul and spirit element in the human being. Such practice provides a support for spiritual progress.

Now it could be meant – it is not clearly expressed in the question – that a review would be adapted for children to such an exercise, which is appropriate for spiritual progress in later life. That would simply be nonsense for the reason that one would introduce an absolute disorder into the relationship between the spiritual-mental and the bodily-etheric of the child. It would be plain to see that one was causing terrible damage. To allow such practices with children would mean that one would tear apart at a very early stage that which corresponds to the imagination, to feeling, to the will; that one would bring such disorder into the whole soul-spiritual-physical organization of the child that one would virtually develop the child, deliberately develop it into childish mental deficiency, into a kind of dementia praecox. If one hears about such things at all, if one becomes familiar with such things, it is important to know that they should not be used in a novelistic way, and especially that they are not only not intended for children aged five to six, but that it is nonsense to use them at all in people before sexual maturity. If the intention is to look back in such a way that the child is allowed to remember the events of the day, then such a thing must at least not be taken to any extreme. It may sometimes be necessary for the child to remember some kind of misbehavior or for them to remember a joy they have experienced for this or that reason, but to is something that is basically also a kind of mischief, albeit a small mischief, compared to when, for example, it is meant to suggest that the child should be doing spiritual exercises.

A question about a 23-year-old person with an intellectual disability: Is the disability connected to a past life and how should the person in question be educated?

Rudolf Steiner: In such matters, each case is truly an individual one and nothing can be said from the few details given on this note, least of all how the mental deficiency in question is connected with any previous life on earth. As for how to treat him educationally, that really depends entirely on what the person was like before. Above all, the person should be followed up in terms of education: What was done with the person before? Was no attention paid to the fact that there were abnormalities in the past? The real issue is that it is not possible for a young person of twenty-three to become feeble-minded unless it is due to an external necessity. Rather, the issue is that the things that preceded it should have been dealt with in the appropriate way. But to answer the question of what to do after he turns twenty-three, you would have to know the person very well.

Perhaps I may take this opportunity to come back to a few other things that have caught my eye during the course of the evening. First of all, the matter of the age of nine. It is indeed the case that the main epoch of the developing human being's life is from birth to the change of teeth, then again from the change of teeth to sexual maturity, but that between the ages of nine and ten there is something that intervenes in the child's life in an extraordinarily significant way. You know that the sense of self first arises in the form of a sense of self. This sense of self only emerges in the second, third, sometimes even the fourth year of life. It is not yet an actual sense of self, and this sense of self is not actually present in a transparently clear way even at the change of teeth. So you don't give the child something that is in line with his development when you introduce things that sharply challenge the child to separate himself from his surroundings, to have a strong sense of self. Everything that is perceived when one strongly separates oneself from one's surroundings, when one perceives another being as another, one should bring up as little as possible to the child up to the age of nine, but should guide the child in such a way that it perceives the outside world only as a continuation of its own being, so to speak. One should cultivate precisely this feeling, which does not separate from the outside world. One should educate the child in such a way that it can feel and sense what is outside, as if it were continuing into its own organization and vice versa. And only around the age of nine does a clear and distinct sense of self actually awaken. It is this sense of self that Jean Paul says is actually in the innermost sanctum of the human being and that only this sense of self actually allows one to feel the human being as such, the human existence inwardly. This sense of self awakens in the ninth year. And in this year, between the ninth and tenth year – these things are, of course, only approximations – the world also enters, the outer world; the child differentiates itself from the outer world, is allowed to differentiate itself of its own accord. It is then possible to approach the child with the simplest ideas and observations from the plant and animal kingdoms, no longer to bring things to the child merely in the form of fairy tales, legends or stories, but to really bring them in such a way that the child acquires possible ideas - I do not mean systematically as in science. That is what needs to be observed.

What cannot be emphasized strongly enough for the art of education is that one must not follow the mischief of introducing scientific categories into school life. Unfortunately, even the schoolbooks for the lower grades are often put together in such a way that their content is taken out of scientific books in its structure and direction. But botany, zoology and so on should not be taught to the child as if one wanted to believe that he should become a botanist or zoologist; rather, precisely because one assumes that he should certainly not become a botanist or zoologist, not in such a way that one presents him with all the raisins, but in such a way that one uses the aptitudes that the child has at that particular moment, and then helps them to break through. This is the result of a natural art of education, as applied in Waldorf schools: people are not trained according to a certain specialization, but they are made human beings. And if they then develop in one direction or another, it is because their original abilities have not been suppressed and can now develop in a certain sense. That is what makes a human being human.

Regarding the lecture by Rudolf Meyer, Berlin:

It would certainly be interesting to pursue the considerations that Mr. Meyer so beautifully presented in his lecture on the relationship between Fichte, Pestalozzi and Herbart from a psychological point of view. But let me just express a few thoughts about it.

It is extremely interesting that from the consideration of Pestalozzi one gets the idea that the successes that he had with his art of education are essentially based on the fact that he was, as it seems, an infinitely amiable personality, especially towards children, and that out of a certain childlike love he instinctively applied a highly perfect art of education.

It is a different matter when we look at what was happening around Pestalozzi. Here we do not get the impression that Pestalozzi would have been able to transfer to others the educational skills that he possessed through the inherent kindness of his personality. And if you look at the actual pedagogical principles, the more fundamental aspects, and not just at the extraordinarily charming descriptions that Pestalozzi gave of life with children – which can be extremely inspiring, especially for educators – but if you ask other people about the instructions he gave, you can see that he was not in a position to become aware of what instinctively worked in him as an educational art in a lovable way, so that he could have transferred it to others. Therefore, the love that Pestalozzi is shown is actually based more on the fact that this amiable personality speaks from all his writings, and what one feels when reading these writings triggers many educational impulses from within the human being. While - I only need to recall the instructions that Pestalozzi gives, one must teach very young children the parts of the human body in a way that is not at all natural. If you look at Pestalozzi's formulations in his art of education, you have to say: that is not suitable for inspiring other educators.

But something else is becoming blatantly obvious. It may well be that Pestalozzi also proceeded with young children as he describes it, and had great success; while another - even a direct student of Pestalozzi, we can prove that it was so - who followed the same instructions, now achieved absolutely nothing. The fact is that the important personality of Pestalozzi was not behind it. In the final analysis, it is not the content that is important in a pedagogical system that aspires to become an art of education. The pedagogy cultivated in Waldorf school lessons is actually about the fact that, under certain circumstances, even if the content of what is taught is based on false premises – it does not have to be so, but it can be so – it can nevertheless have an effect on the child in an appropriate way through the way the art of education is applied. One might say that in Waldorf education it is not so much the content of the teaching that is important as the way it is handled. This is because spiritual science is fundamentally not something that merely — that is not even the most important thing, in fact — but spiritual science essentially consists in the fact that it gives a living world view, that it allows what it gives as a world view to be truly experienced. That is why spiritual science is so poorly understood. Because, you see, in the sense of our spiritual science here – and I am saying this precisely with regard to spiritual science as the basis of a pedagogical art – it is certainly a mistake for someone to be a pure materialist, for someone to have materialistic theories; but one can also formulate materialistic theories very wittily. One can have spirit and be a materialist. And conversely, one can also be a spiritualist, a theosophist, an anthroposophist, who can reel off theories from spiritualism, theosophy or anthroposophy and be terribly spiritless in the process. Then it is a matter of the spirit of materialism, which, however, prevails, having to be valued more highly in the sense of a real anthroposophy than the spiritlessness of the anthroposophist, who schematically recounts everything that is theory or inanimate outlook on life. So that one can say: anthroposophy is directed towards the real life of the spirit. And this real life of the spirit really does enter the whole human being. In a sense, the spirit should be banished into what the human being does. And that is what makes the teacher, from the most profound level of his spiritual science, skilled in the art of education, which enables him to truly transform education.

This is what Rudolf Meyer presented so beautifully in his lecture and by which he measured the intellectualism of Herbart, who played such a great role in the education that we will hopefully soon have behind us and that we will very soon replace with a different one.

Today, you have also been presented with a very nice illustration of how Herbart's views were shaped by his inheritance. But there is something else that matters in the assessment of Herbart, namely how the selection has worked. For the culturally and historically important phenomenon is that one looks at this Herbart, who was purely intellectualistic, but who founded a comprehensive pedagogical school that then had an enormous influence on pedagogical work. It must be said that the fact that, of all the philosophers and other world-view thinkers, it was this intellectualist Herbart who was chosen by the fate of Central Europe to be the educational source of inspiration can be traced back to the entirely intellectualist tendency that the intellectual life of the 19th century took.

This can be made particularly clear with regard to Herbart by the following: one could point out, for example, as Rudolf Meyer has done very nicely, and one can also do so with other personalities, that Schiller's “Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Man” are also a kind of pedagogical impulse. Schiller, who so magnificently portrays how, on the one hand, man tends towards intellectualism and, on the other, towards mere sensual-physical instincts, points out how man follows the necessity of reason in logic, in the intellectual, and how he follows the necessity of the senses in ordinary life. And then Schiller presents beauty, which is the balance between the two, which one achieves by being able to follow the spiritual not only logically in the intellect, but to already have it in sensual perception, so that one may also feel the pleasant as thoroughly beautiful. On the other hand, he demands that what one experiences sensually should already be spiritualized, so that it is elevated, that one experiences it as spiritual. Schiller therefore actually wants to create a balance in beauty between the intellectual and the sensual-illustrative or instinctive will. And basically he wants to permeate all of life with what emerges from people when they are educated for such a balance. In Schiller, we see how he wants to bring people to action through the spirit, how he works towards this balance between intellectualism and between the instinctive, that is, the dull-willed element, but one that is to be spiritualized, how he points out that the whole human being is to be placed in the world.

This is then contrasted with Herbartianism – yes, one can tell a whole story about it if one has experienced Herbartianism as strongly as it was experienced by people who spent their youth in Austria in the second half of the 19th century, where Herbartianism was proclaimed as philosophy from all the lecterns. It was only Brentano who introduced a change in this respect, but he was an isolated case. Herbartianism continued to be preached until the turn of the century, or at least until the 1890s, and everything that was achieved in the field of education, as you can see, is based on Herbart.

One of these 'Herbartians' was Robert Zimmermann, a very brilliant man, an important man and also a morally superior personality; but he was a Herbartian through and through. And he wrote a 'Philosophical Propaedeutic' for grammar school students. This “Philosophical Propaedeutic” also contained a psychology. In this psychology, there is the following sentence: Man experiences hunger or satiation through food not through something else, but through the ideas he has about it. So it is quite broadly argued that it does not depend on the real process behind the phenomenon of how hunger is transformed into satiation, but it depends - and now I quote almost word for word: if you have the idea of hunger at a certain moment of the day, this idea of hunger would be pushed below the threshold of consciousness by the opposite idea of satiation.

This replacement of nutrition with a purely intellectual process is something that has actually been included in high school psychology textbooks, and one can imagine how the minds of those who absorbed such psychology without knowing it had to be colored.

But I would like to draw attention to something else. Very briefly, I will touch on how Herbartian aesthetics stands in contrast to basically all other aesthetic worldviews that have emerged in Central Europe. When one speaks of aesthetics, then it depends on whether one speaks – I will say it now in general – of what speaks to you as beauty or what repels you as ugliness, that you essentially remain in the realm of taste judgment. Then one differentiates from this aesthetics – and this is what otherwise distinguishes aesthetics from the ethics found within Central Europe – that which, as will, impulsates the moral act or that which is sick in the will in the immoral act. What other people in Central Europe developed as aesthetics, what they selected from the direct impulse of the will, does not exist for Herbart's philosophical considerations. For ethics is only a special chapter of aesthetics. And just as in art, when two forms have something in common, for example, this is the summarizing, the harmonious element, so it is for Herbart in relation to moral judgment. He speaks of five forms: the relationship of action to action or action to thought, and the like, and he says: a strong action pleases next to a weak one. He looks at the aesthetic impression, not at the volitional impulse, and gives his judgment of favor the term “perfection.” So that in the case of perfection, it is not the volitional element that is effectively present in the human being as a volitional impulse, but rather he says: If I will more strongly one time and more weakly the other, I gain the aesthetic impression that the strong is more pleasing than the weak. Therefore it is predominant.

You see, what should be a powerful driving force is reduced to a judgment of liking or disliking. You then have the idea of wanting, of moral freedom, of right and of retribution. These five ethical ideas are therefore considered by Herbart, not by taking them out of the nature of the will, of ethos, but by observing, as it were, how man's action pleases or displeases when it is looked at. So you have here the task of at least guiding ethics, which should essentially arise from the will, on the way to the intellectual. I said that one must look at the selection process to see why Herbart was chosen by the fate of Central Europe. This is based on the fact that the age as such had to go through intellectualism, that the age as such demanded intellectualism.

Now, we have indeed gained a great deal through intellectualism. In Herbart's work, some dark sides and some light sides of this intellectualism can be seen. As Mr. Rudolf Meyer just mentioned, Herbart's ideas only found their way into elementary school pedagogy indirectly, not exactly directly, but all the more so into grammar school pedagogy. The only problem is that in the latter case, it remained an intellectual exercise and did not lead to a true art of education or to the proper practice of pedagogy. For what was this grammar school education? As you know, as a rule the philosopher in the philosophy faculty had to teach it as a subsidiary subject, not out of any great sympathy for it. And as for how it was practised – well, we would rather not talk about how education was practised at grammar schools. It was simply not possible to bring into the art of education that which draws from mere intellectual sources. On the other hand, we must not forget or overlook the fact that Herbart, who had such a broad impact and was so widely disseminated, had an enormously disciplining effect on thinking, that the inner weaving of thoughts does not follow pure arbitrariness but certain underlying laws, which is of course also true. And in this respect it did not really improve until Herbartianism gradually declined more or less only towards the end of the nineteenth century; on the contrary, it must be said that there was something disciplining in Herbart's philosophy , something that, even if it easily led thoughts into an even greater pedantry, nevertheless made this pedantry less unbearable than when the pedantry runs without an inner conformity to the laws of thinking. On the whole, it must be said that, in the 19th century, humanity's urge to discipline thinking inwardly came about, which then also had an effect on natural science until very recently and which has a certain significance. It must be said that in this respect Herbart certainly had a disciplining effect. But today we are faced with a challenge of the world, in the face of which we have to say: We will not get anywhere with such intellectualism. We can no longer, so to speak, substitute the idea of hunger and satiation – apparently it can only be one or the other – for the real process and thereby entrench ourselves entirely in our heads as in a fortress. We have to engage the whole person through what we do. In the course of this discussion about Herbart's intellectualism, I was constantly reminded of how the entire 19th century, especially in Central Europe, was dominated by intellectualism. This became very vividly clear to me many years ago in a conversation I had with the long-deceased Austrian poet Hermann Rollett. He was a remarkable personality. He was completely immersed in intellectualism. He could not imagine the world differently. He said that everything else was simply not proper, had no discipline of thought, one had to think intellectually, think atomistically, and so on. But he was terribly pessimistic, and he once said to me: “For our development as a civilization, as civilized people of the world, we have the prospect of ultimately wasting away in all our limbs and being only heads, being only a ball!” This was Rollett's world, and it was what led him to despair of the progress of humanity, because he believed that the limbs would atrophy more and more, that man would only roll along as a head ball, and that there would be such small bits of arms and feet sticking out. He painted this vividly as a picture.

But it is necessary, at least in a spiritual and psychological sense, to do everything from now on to prevent man from developing into a mere head person in the future. It must be understood that the spirit is not only talked about to him, but that it is banished from human life. But when the spirit takes hold of the whole human being in such a way that this whole human being also radiates the spirit into the social existence, then this is what the time demands of us with all our energy and what we must fulfill: the education of the human being not only as a head human being and towards some one-sidedness, but the education of the whole human being through spiritual science.

Let us once more call up before our souls whither modern Initiation leads, after the first steps to Imaginative knowledge have been successfully taken. A man then comes to the point where his previous abstract, purely ideal world of thought is permeated with inner life. The thoughts coming to him are no longer lifeless, passively acquired; they are an inward world of living force which he feels in the same way as he feels the pulsing of his blood or the streaming in and out of the air he breathes. It is therefore a question of the ideal element in thinking being replaced by an inward experience of reality. Then indeed the pictures that previously constituted a man's thoughts are no longer mere abstract, shadowy projections of the outside world, but are teeming with an inward, vivid existence. They are real Imaginations experienced in two dimensions, as indicated yesterday, but it is not as though a man were standing in front of a painting in the physical world, for then he may experience visions, not Imaginations. Rather is it as though, having lost the third dimension, he were himself moving about within the picture. Hence it is not like seeing something in the physical world; anything that has the look of the physical world will be a vision. Genuine Imagination comes to us only when, for example, we no longer see colours as we do in the physical world, but when we experience them. What does this mean?

When you see colours in the physical world, they give you different experiences. You perceive red as something that attacks you, that wants to spring at you. A bull will react violently to this aggressive red; he experiences it far more vividly than does man, in whom the whole experience is toned down.

When you perceive green, it gives you a feeling of balance, an experience neither painful nor particularly pleasant; whereas blue induces a mood of devotion and humility. If we allow these various experiences of colour to penetrate right into us, we can realise how it is that when anything in the spiritual world comes at us in the aggressive way red does in physical life, it is something corresponding to the colour red. When we encounter something which calls up a mood of humility, this has the same effect as the experience of blue or blue-violet in the physical world. We can simplify this by saying: we have experienced red or blue in the spiritual world. Otherwise, for the sake of precision, we should always have to say: we have experienced something there in the way that red, or blue, is experienced in the physical world. To avoid so many words, one says simply that one has seen auric colours which can be distinguished as red, blue, green, and so on.

But we must realise thoroughly that this making our way into the super-sensible, this setting aside of all that comes to us through the senses, is always present as a concrete experience. And in the course of this experience we always have the feeling I described yesterday, as if thinking had become an organ of touch extending throughout the human organism, so that spiritually we feel that a new world is opening out and we are touching it. This is not yet the real spiritual world, but what I might call the etheric or formative-forces world. Anyone who would learn to know the etheric must grasp it in this way. For no speculation, no abstract reflection, about the etheric can lead to true knowledge of it. In this thinking that has become real we live with our own formative-forces or etheric body, but it is a different kind of living from life in the physical body. I should like to describe this other way by means of a comparison.

When you look at one of your fingers, you recognise it as a living member of your organism. Cut it off, and it is no longer what it was; it dies. If this finger of yours had a consciousness, it would say: I am no more than a part of your organism, I have no independent existence. That is what a man has to say directly he enters the etheric world with Imaginative cognition. He no longer feels himself as a separate being, but as a member of the whole etheric world, the whole etheric cosmos. After that he realises that it is only by having a physical body that he becomes a personality, an individuality. It is the physical body that individualises and makes of one a separate being.

We shall indeed see how even in the spiritual world we can be individualised—but I will speak of that later. If we enter the spiritual world in the way described, we are bound at first to feel ourself as just one member of the whole etheric Cosmos; and if our etheric body were to be cut off from the cosmic ether, it would mean for us etheric death. It is very important to grasp this, so that we may understand properly what has to be said later about a man's passage through the gate of death.

As I pointed out yesterday, this Imaginative experience in the etheric, which becomes a tableau of our whole life from birth up to the present moment of our existence on Earth, is accompanied by an extraordinarily intense feeling of happiness. And the flooding of the whole picture-world by this inward, wonderfully pleasurable feeling is a man's first higher experience.

We must then be able—as I also mentioned yesterday—to take all we have striven for through Imagination, through our life-tableau, and make it all disappear at will. It is only when we have thus emptied our consciousness that we understand how matters really are in the spiritual world. For then we know that what we have seen up to now was not the spiritual world, but merely an Imaginative picture of it. It is only at this stage of empty consciousness that—just as the physical world streams into us through our senses—so the spiritual world streams into us through our thinking. Here begins our first real experience, our first real knowledge, of the objective spiritual world. The life-tableau was only of our own inner world. Imaginative cognition reveals only this inner world, which appears to higher knowledge as a picture-world, a world of cosmic pictures. The Cosmos itself, together with our own true being, as it was before birth, before our earthly existence, appear first at the stage of Inspiration, when the spiritual world flows into us from outside. But when we have arrived at being able to empty our consciousness, our whole soul becomes awake; and in this stage of pure wakefulness we must be able to acquire a certain inner stillness and peace. This peace I can describe only in the following way.

Let us imagine we are in a very noisy city and hear the roar of it all around us. This is terrible—we say—when, from all sides, tumult assails our ears. Suppose it to be some great modern city, such as London. But now suppose we leave this city, and gradually, with every step we take as we walk away, it becomes quieter and quieter. Let us imagine vividly this fading away of noise. Stiller and stiller it becomes. Finally we come perhaps to a wood where all is perfectly silent; we have reached the zero-point where nothing can be heard.

Yet we can go even further. To illustrate how this can happen, I will use a quite trivial comparison. Suppose we have in our purse a certain sum of money. As we spend it from day to day, it dwindles, just as the noise dwindles as we leave the town. At length comes the day when there is nothing left—the purse is empty. We can compare this nothingness with the silence. But what do we do next if we are not to grow hungry? We get into debt. I am not recommending this; it is meant only as a comparison. How much have we then in our purse? Less than nothing; and the greater the debt, the more we have less than nothing.

And now let us imagine it to be the same with this silence. There would be not only the absolute peace of the zero-point of silence, but it would go further and come to the negative of hearing, quieter than quiet, more silent than silence. And this must in fact happen when, in the way described yesterday, we are able through enhanced powers to reach this inner peace and silence. When, however, we arrive at this inner negative of audibility, at this peace greater than the zero-point of peace, we are then so deeply in the spiritual world that we not only see it but hear it resounding. The world of pictures becomes a world of resounding life; and then we are in the midst of the true spiritual world. During the moments we spend there we are standing, as it were, on the shore of existence; the ordinary sense-world vanishes, and we know ourselves to be in the spiritual world. Certainly—I will say more of this later—we must be properly prepared so that we are at all times able to return. But there is something else to come—an experience previously unknown. Directly this peace is achieved in the empty consciousness, what I have described as an inwardly experienced, all-embracing, cosmic feeling of happiness gives way to an equally all-embracing pain. We come to feel that the world is built on a foundation of cosmic suffering—of a cosmic element which can be experienced by the human being only as pain. We learn the penetrating truth, so willingly ignored by those who look outside themselves for happiness, that everything in existence has finally to be brought to birth in pain. And when, through Initiation-knowledge, this cosmic experience of pain has made its impression upon us, then out of real inner knowledge we can say the following:

If we study the human eye—the eye that reveals to us the beauty of the physical world, and is so important for us that through it we receive nine-tenths of the impressions that make up our life between birth and death—we find that the eye is embedded in a bodily cavity which originates from a wound. What was done originally to bring about the eye-sockets could be done to-day only by actually cutting out a hollow in the physical body. The ordinary account of evolution gives a much too colourless impression of this. These sockets into which the eyeballs were inserted from outside—as indeed the physical record of evolution shows—were hollowed out at a time when man was still an unconscious being. If he had been conscious of it, it would have involved a painful wounding of the organism.

Indeed, the whole human organism has been brought forth out of an element which for present-day consciousness would be an experience of pain. At this stage of knowledge we have a deep feeling that, just as the coming forth of the plants means pain for the Earth, so all happiness, everything in the world from which we derive pleasure and blessing, has its roots in an element of suffering. If as conscious beings we could suddenly be changed into the substance of the ground beneath our feet, the result would be an endless enhancement of our feeling of pain.

When these facts revealed out of the spiritual world are put before superficially-minded people, they say: “My idea of God is quite different. I have always thought of God in His power as founding everything upon happiness, just as we would wish.” Such people are like that King of Spain to whom someone was showing a model of the universe and the course of the stars. The King had the greatest difficulty in understanding how all these movements occurred, and finally he exclaimed: “If God had left it to me, I would have made a much simpler world.”

Strictly speaking, that is the feeling of many people where knowledge and religion are concerned. Had God left the creation to them, they would have made a simpler world. They have no idea how naive this is!

Genuine Initiation-knowledge cannot merely satisfy men's desire for happiness; it has to guide them to a true understanding of their own being and destiny as they come forth from the world in the past, present and future. For this, spiritual facts are necessary, instead of something which gives immediate pleasure. But there is another thing which these lectures should indeed bring out. Precisely by experiencing such facts, if only through knowing them conceptually, people will gain a good deal that satisfies an inward need for their life here on Earth. Yes, they will gain something they need in order to be human beings in the fullest sense, just as for completeness they need their physical limbs.

The world we meet in this way when we go on beyond Imagination into the stillness of existence, out of which the spiritual world reveals itself in colour and in sound—this world differs essentially from the world perceived by the senses. When we are living with it—and we have to live with the spiritual world when it is present for us—we see how all sense-perceptible, physical things and processes really proceed from out of the spiritual world. Hence as earthly men we see only one half of the world; the other half is occult, hidden from us. And through every opening, every happening, in the physical-material world, one might say, this hidden half reveals its spiritual nature first in the pictures of Imagination, and then through its own creative activity in Inspiration. In the world of Inspiration we can feel at home, for here we find the origins of all earthly things, all earthly creations. And here, as I have indicated, we discover our own pre-earthly existence.

Following an old image, I have called this world, lying beyond that of Imagination, the astral world—the name is not important—and what we bring along with us from that world, and have carried into our etheric and physical bodies, we may speak of as our astral body. In a certain sense, it encloses the Ego-organisation. For higher knowledge, accordingly, the human being consists of four members: physical body, etheric or formative-forces body, astral body, and Ego-organisation. Knowledge of the Ego, however, entails a further super-sensible step, which in my book, Knowledge of the Higher Worlds, I have called “Intuition”. The term Intuition may easily be misunderstood because, for example, anyone with imaginative, poetic gifts will often give the name of intuition to his sensitive feeling for the world. This kind of intuition is only a dim feeling; yet it has some relation to the Intuition of which I am speaking. For just as earthly man has his sense-perceptions, so in his feeling and his will he has a reflection of the highest kind of cognition, of Intuition. Otherwise he could not be a moral being. The dim promptings of conscience are a reflection, a kind of shadow-picture, of true Intuition, the highest form of cognition possible for man on Earth.

Earthly man has in him something of what is lowest, and also this shadow-picture of what is highest, accessible only through Intuition. It is the intermediate levels that are lacking in him; hence he has to acquire Imagination and Inspiration. He has also to acquire Intuition in its purity, in its light-filled inner quality. At present it is in his moral feeling, his moral conscience, that he possesses an earthly image of that which arises as Intuition. Hence we can say that when a man with Initiation-knowledge rises to actual Intuitive knowledge of the world, of which previously he has known only the natural laws, the world becomes as intimately connected with him on earth as only the moral world is now. And this is indeed a significant feature of human life on Earth—that out of a dim inner presentiment we connect with the highest realm of all something which, in its true form, is accessible only to enhanced cognition.

The third step in higher knowledge, necessary for rising to Intuition, can be achieved only by developing to its highest point a faculty which, in our materialistic age, is not recognised as a cognitional force. What is revealed through Intuition can be attained only by developing and spiritualising to the highest degree the capacity for love. A man must be able to make this capacity for love into a cognitional force. A good preparation for this is to free ourselves in a certain sense from dependence on external things; for instance, by making it our regular practice to picture our past experiences not in their usual sequence but in reverse order.

In ordinary passive thinking we may be said to accept world events in an altogether slavish way. As I said yesterday: In our very thought-pictures we keep the earlier as the earlier, the later as the later; and when we are watching the course of a play on the stage the first act comes first, then the second, and so on to a possible fifth. But if we can accustom ourselves to picture it all by beginning at the end and going from the fifth act back through the fourth, third, second, to the first, then we break away from the ordinary sequence—we go backwards instead of forwards. But that is not how things happen in the world: we have to strain every nerve to call up from within the force to picture events in reverse. By so doing we free the inner activity of our soul from its customary leading-strings, and we gradually enable the inner experiences of our soul and spirit to reach a point where soul and spirit break loose from the bodily and also from the etheric element. A man can well prepare himself for this breaking away if every evening he makes a backward survey of his experiences during the day, beginning with the last and moving back. When possible even the details should be conceived in a backward direction: if you have gone upstairs, picture yourself first on the top step, then on the step below it, and so on backwards down all the stairs.

You will probably say: “But there are so many hours during the day, full of experiences.” Then first try taking episodes—picturing, for instance, this going up and down stairs in reverse. One thus acquires inner mobility, so that gradually one becomes able to go back in imagination through a whole day in three or four minutes.

But that, after all, is only the negative half of what is needed for enhancing and training spiritually our capacity for loving. This must be brought to the point when, for example, we lovingly follow each stage in the growth of a plant. In ordinary life this growth is seen only from outside—we do not take part in it. We must learn to enter into every detail of plant-growth, to dive right down into the plant, until in our own soul we become the plant, growing, blossoming, bringing forth fruit with it, and the plant becomes as dear to us as we are to ourselves. In the same way we can go above the plants to picture the life of animals, and down to the minerals. We can feel how the mineral forms itself into the crystal, and take inward pleasure in the shaping of its planes, corners, angles, and having a sensation as of pain in our own being when the minerals are split asunder. Then, in our souls, we enter not only with sympathy but with our will into every single event in nature.

All this must be preceded by a capacity for love extending to mankind as a whole. We shall never be able to love nature in the right way until we have first succeeded in loving all our fellow-men. When we have in this way won through to an understanding love for all nature, that which made itself perceptible first in the colours of the aura, and in the resounding of the spheres, rounds itself out and takes on the outlines of actual spiritual Beings.

Experiencing these spiritual Beings, however, is a different matter from experiencing physical things. When a physical object is in front of me, for example this clock, I stand here with the clock there, and can experience it only by looking at it from outside. My relation to it is determined by space. In this way one could never have any real experience of a spiritual Being. We can have it only by entering right into the spiritual Being, with the aid of the faculty for loving which we have cultivated first towards nature. Spiritual Intuition is possible only by applying—in stillness and emptiness of consciousness—the capacity for love we can first learn in the realm of nature. Imagine that you have developed this capacity for loving minerals, plants, animals and also man; you are now in the midst of a completely empty consciousness. All around is the peace which lies beyond its zero-point. You feel the suffering on which the whole existence of the world is founded, and this suffering is at the same time a loneliness. Nothing yet is there. But the capacity for love, flowing up from within in manifold forms, leads you on to enter with your own being into all that now appears visibly, audibly, as Inspiration. Through this capacity for love you enter first into one spiritual Being, then into another.

These Beings described in my book, Occult Science, these Beings of the higher Hierarchies—we now learn to live in our experience of them; they become for us the essential reality of the world. So we experience a concrete spiritual world, just as through eye and ear, through feeling and warmth, we experience a concrete physical world.

If anyone wishes to acquire knowledge particularly important for himself, he must have advanced to this stage. I have already mentioned that through Inspiration pre-earthly spiritual existence rises up in our soul; how in this way we learn what we were before we came down into an earthly body. When through the capacity for love we are able to enter clairvoyantly into spiritual Beings, in the way I have described, there is also revealed that which first makes a man, in his inner experience, a complete being. There is revealed what precedes our life in the spiritual world; we are shown what we were before ascending to the last spiritual life between death and rebirth. The preceding earthly life is revealed, and, one after another, the lives on Earth before that. For the true Ego, present in all the repeated lives on Earth, can manifest only when the faculty for love has been so greatly enhanced that any other being, whether outside in nature or in the spiritual world, has become just as dear to a man as in his self-love he is dear to himself. But the true Ego—the Ego that goes through all repeated births and deaths—is manifest to a man only when he no longer lives egotistically for momentary knowledge, but in a love that can forget self-love and can live in an objective Being in the way that in physical existence he lives in self-love. For this Ego of former lives on Earth has then become as objective for his present life as a stone or a plant is for us when we stand outside it. We must have learnt by then to comprehend in objective love something which, for our present subjective personality, has become quite objective, quite foreign. We must have gained mastery over ourselves during our present earthly existence in order to have any insight into a preceding one.

When we have achieved this knowledge, we see the complete life of a man passing rhythmically through the stages of earthly existence from birth or conception till death, and then through spiritual stages between death and rebirth, and then returning again to Earth, and so on. A complete earthly life reveals itself as a repeated passing through birth and death, with intermediate periods of life in purely spiritual worlds. Only through Intuition can this knowledge be acquired as real knowledge, derived directly from experience.

I have had to describe for you—in outline to begin with—the path of Initiation-knowledge that must be followed in our time, at this present stage of human evolution, in order to arrive at true spiritual knowledge of the world and of man. But as long as human beings have existed there has been Initiation-knowledge, although it has had to take various forms in different evolutionary periods. As man is a being who goes through each successive earthly life in a different way, conditions for his inner development in the various epochs of world-evolution have to vary considerably. We shall be learning more about these variations in course of the next few days; to-day I should like to say only that the Initiation-knowledge which had to be given out in early times was very different from what has to be given out to-day. We can go back some thousands of years, to a time long before the Mystery of Golgotha, and we find how greatly men's attitude to both the natural world and the spiritual world differed from that of the present time, and how different, accordingly, was their Initiation-knowledge from what is appropriate today.

We have now a very highly developed natural science; I shall not be speaking of its most advanced side but only of what is imparted to children of six or seven, as general knowledge. At this comparatively early age a child has to accept the laws relating, let us say, to the Copernican world-system, and on this system are built hypotheses as to the origin of the universe. The Kant-Laplace theory is then put forward and, though this theory has been revised, yet in its essentials it still holds good. The theory is based on a primeval nebula, demonstrated in physics by an experiment intended to show the earliest conditions of the world-system. This primeval nebula can be imitated experimentally, and out of it, through the rotation of certain forces, the planets are assumed to have come into being, and the sun left behind. One of the rings split off from the nebula is thought to have condensed into the shape of the Earth, and everything else—minerals, plants, animals, and finally man himself—is supposed to have evolved on this basis. And all this is described in a thoroughly scientific way.

The process is made comprehensible for children by means of a practical demonstration which seems to show it very clearly. A drop of oil is taken, sufficiently fluid to float on a little water; this is placed on a piece of card where the line of the equator is supposed to come; a pin is run through the card and the card is whirled round. It can then be shown how, one after another, drops of oil detach themselves and rotate, and you can get a miniature planetary system out of the oil, with a sun left in the middle. When that has been shown to us in childhood, why should we think it impossible for our planetary system to have arisen out of the primeval nebula? With our own eyes we have seen the process reproduced.

Now in moral life it may be admirable for us to be able to forget ourselves, but in a demonstration of natural phenomena it is not so good! This whole affair of the drop of oil would never have worked if there had been no-one there to twirl the pin. That has to be taken into account. If this hypothesis is to hold good, a giant schoolmaster would have had to be there in the Cosmos, to start the primeval nebula revolving and keep it turning. Otherwise the idea has no reality.

It is characteristic of this materialistic age, however, to conceive only a fraction of the truth, a quarter, an eighth, or even less, and this fraction then lives with terribly suggestive power in the souls of men. Thus we persist to-day in seeing one side only of nature and of nature's laws.

I could give you plenty of examples, from different spheres of life, clearly showing this attitude towards nature: how—because a man absorbs this with the culture of the day—he considers nature to be governed by what is called the law of cause and effect. This colours the whole of human existence to-day. At best, a man can still maintain some connection with the spiritual world through religious tradition, but if he wishes to rise to the actual spiritual world, he must undertake an inner training through Imagination, Inspiration, Intuition—as I have pictured them. He must be led by Initiation-knowledge away from this belief in nature as permeated throughout by law, and towards a real grasp of the spiritual. Initiation-knowledge to-day must aim at leading men from the naturalistic interpretation of the Cosmos, now taken for granted, to a realisation of its spirituality.

In the old Initiation-knowledge, thousands of years ago, the very opposite prevailed. The wise men of the Mysteries, the leaders in those centres which were school, church, and art-school at the same time, had around them people who knew nothing of nature in the Copernican sense, but in their soul and spirit had an instinctive, intimate experience of the Cosmos, expressed in their myths and legends, which in the ordinary civilisation of to-day are no longer understood. About this too we shall have more to say. The experience that men had in those early days was instinctive; an experience of soul and spirit. It filled their waking hours with the dreamlike pictures of imagination; and from these pictures came the legends, the myths, the sayings of the gods, which made up their life. A man looked out into the world, experiencing his dreamy imaginations; and at other times he lived in the being of nature. He saw the rainbows, the clouds, the stars, and the sun making its speedy way across the heavens; he saw the rivers, the hills arising; he saw the minerals, plants, animals.

For primeval man, everything he saw through his senses was a great riddle. For at the time of which I am speaking, some thousands of years before the Mystery of Golgotha—there were both earlier and later times when civilisation was different—a man had an inward feeling of being blessed when dreamlike imaginations came to him. The external world of the senses, where all that he perceived of rainbow, clouds, the moving sun, and the minerals, plants, animals, was what the eye could see, while in the starry world he saw only what the pre-Copernican, Ptolemaic system recorded. This external world presented itself to people generally in a way that led them to say: “With my soul I am living in a divine-spiritual world, but there outside is a nature forsaken by the gods. When with my senses I look at a spring of water, I see nothing spiritual there; I see nothing spiritual in the rainbow, in the minerals, plants, animals, or in the physical bodies of men.” Nature appeared to these people as a whole world that had fallen away from divine spirituality.

This was how people felt in that time when the whole visible Cosmos had for them the appearance of having fallen away from the divine. To connect these two experiences, the inward experience of God and the outer one of a fallen sense-world, it was not merely abstract knowledge they needed, but a knowledge that could console them for belonging to this fallen sense-world with their physical bodies and their etheric bodies. They needed a consolation which would assure them that this fallen sense-world was related to all they experienced through their instinctive imaginings, through an experience of the spiritual which, though dim and dreamlike, was adequate for the conditions of those times. Knowledge had to be consoling.

It was consolation, too, that was sought by those who turned eagerly to the Mysteries, either to receive only what could be given out externally, or to become pupils of the men of wisdom who could initiate them into the secrets of existence and the riddles that confronted them.

These wise men of the old Mysteries, who were at the same time priests, teachers, and artists, made clear to their pupils through everything contained in their Mysteries—yet to be described—that even in this fallen world, in its rising springs, in the blossoming trees and flowers, in the crystal-forming minerals, in rainbow and drifting clouds and journeying sun there live those divine-spiritual powers which were experienced instinctively in the dreamlike imaginations of men. They showed these people how to reconcile the godforsaken world with the divine world perceived in their imaginations. Through the Mysteries they gave them a consoling knowledge which enabled them once more to look on nature as filled with the divine.

Hence we learn from what is told of those past ages—told even of the Grecian age—that knowledge now taught to the youngest children in our schools, that the sun stands still and the earth circles around it, for instance, is the kind of knowledge which in the old Mysteries was preserved as occult. What with us is knowledge for everyone was for that age occult knowledge; and explanations of nature were an occult science. As anyone can see who follows the course of human development during our civilisation, nature and nature's laws are the chief concern of men today; and this has led the spiritual world to withdraw. The old dreamlike imaginations have ceased. A man feels nature to be neutral, not entirely satisfying, belonging not to a fallen, sinful Universe, but to a Cosmos that by reason of inner necessity has to be as it is. He then feels more sharply conscious of himself; he learns to find spirituality in that one point only, and he discovers an inner urge to unite this inner self with God. All he now needs—in addition to his knowledge of nature and in conformity with it—is that a new Initiation-knowledge shall lead him into the spiritual world. The old Initiation-knowledge could start from the spirit, which was then experienced by people instinctively, and, embodied in the myths, could lead them on to nature. The new Initiation-knowledge must begin with a man's immediate experience to-day, with his perception of the laws of nature in which he believes, and from there it must point the way back to the spiritual world through Imagination, Inspiration, Intuition.

Thus, in human evolution, a few thousand years before the Mystery of Golgotha, we see the significant moment of time when men, starting out from an instinctive experience of the spirit, found their way to concepts and ideas which, as the most external form of occult science, included the laws of nature. To-day these laws of nature are known to us from childhood. In face of this indifferent, prosaic attitude to life, this naturalism, the spiritual world has withdrawn from the inner life of man. Today, Initiation-knowledge must point back from nature to the spirit. For the men of old, nature was in darkness, but the spirit was bright and clear. The old Initiation-knowledge had to carry the light of this brightness of the spirit into the darkness of nature, so that nature too might be illumined. Initiation-knowledge to-day has to start from the light thrown upon nature, in an external, naturalistic way, by Copernicus, Giordano Bruno, Galileo, Kepler, Newton and others. This light has then to be rescued, given fresh life, in order to open the way for it to the spirit, which in its own light must be sought on the opposite path to that of the old Initiation.

Answers to Questions

Questions were asked about the nature of imagination, inspiration and intuition. The wording of the questions was not noted down by the stenographer.

Rudolf Steiner: With regard to the question of the difficulty with such a word as “imagination”, I would like to remark the following:

When we take up a word in order to render a significant content, we should always go back to the original meaning of the word and not actually ask: “What meaning is given to the word just now in colloquial speech?”¹ because it is basically the case with all current colloquial languages that they have flattened the words. I have already had to draw attention to something this morning, but it has an inner justification. The word “intuition” is also used in, I would say, an everyday sense, but rightly so, because the highest knowledge of the spiritual life for the moral realm must come down to the simplest, even most primitive human mind. For such a word as “imagination” we cannot say the same thing, and one should therefore first of all always realize what is contained in such a word. The moment you peel off the prefix and suffix of the word and go to the middle, you immediately come to “magic”. “Magic” is in the word “imagination”: it is an internalization of the magical. If you go back to such an original meaning of the word, you will find that the linguistic usage on which it is based today is quite a flattened one.

Now I would like to know what one should actually do in anthroposophy and in spiritual deepening in general, if one does not make the requirement that all words must be brought back to their deeper meaning.

You see, you have to take something like anthroposophy so seriously that you also have to realize this thought: Can anthroposophy be represented at all in today's colloquial language in reality? Is it even possible to say anything so significant about anthroposophy in any colloquial language? - Well, all colloquial languages originally contain something deeper, and you can go back to these deeper meanings in all colloquial languages today.

When we speak of “imagination” today and also use the word for that which is incorporated into the imagination, we have simply taken the word for that which is known today solely and exclusively from an inner experience. Most people today, when speaking of inner experience, think that it is all fantastic, and they then describe the fantastic as the imaginative. From their point of view, they are quite right. But if one does not have the will to go back to the original meaning of the word “imagination”, then it will be very difficult to get anthroposophy into the language at all.

You have to realize the following: You see, there are many things in the word “magic”. First of all, there is something in the word “magic” that I would like to describe as follows: When we are scientifically curious today, we look into the microscope, and we then see that which is small in the world, that which is small in the world - be it the longed-for atom, which is also shown experimentally today, be it some germinal plant - today's materialistic science is always curious about this small thing. But the moment we go to the real causes of things, the moment we go to where the creative forces and powers of things are, we do not come to the small, but to the great. And the creation out of the great, the creation out of the mighty, the imposing, that which encompasses creative powers that surpass the small human being, to bring this into the human soul in an appropriate way, that is: to condense the magical so that it can be received and experienced by the human soul in the condensation.

And just as one should do with the word “imagination”, one should also do it with all other words that are used. Almost everyone today speaks of inspiration. I don't deny him the right - why should I deny him the right, because everyone has the right to use the word “inspiration” at the level at which he moves - but everyone speaks of “inspiration” today, even when he thinks of a joke. Now, of course, this interpretation of the word “inspiration”, when used in this way, is not appropriate for the paths of higher knowledge. But again, let us make it our principle to look at the words in the current languages of civilization in the same way as people were once looked at in general.

Just think about it: as late as the 18th century, here in England and on the continent, people everywhere were still very much occupied with so-called Martinism, with the philosophy that came from Saint-Martin, especially with his book: “Des erreurs et de la verité”. Yes, a book appeared in “Edimbourg” in 1775 that has been translated into all European languages, a book that dealt with the spiritual, so to speak, in the manner of the time, a final offshoot for the kind of spiritual contemplation that was still possible until the 18th century and into the beginning of the 19th century, but which is no longer possible today.

Now, if we take one of the main ideas of Saint-Martin's book “Des erreurs et de la verité”, then we find that man in his totality as an earthly being is seen as having fallen away from his original greatness; there the - I would like to say still complete man - is accused of the fall into sin. Man was once, in Saint Martin's sense, still a mighty being, girded with the so-called holy armor, which served him magically, made him magical in the face of all the forces and entities of the world, many of which were hostile to him. Man lived in the place described by Saint Martin as the place of the seven sacred trees, which in religious legend, or earlier for my sake in the Bible, is referred to as paradise. Man was gifted with the fiery spear, through which he exercised his corresponding power, and so on. All the things that are originally attributed to man are said to have been lost to man through his own pre-earthly guilt; even in his pre-earthly state a terrible sin is attributed to man, which even in social life today is shocking to mention. And so man is portrayed as a being who has fallen from his original greatness. And the whole of Martinism, the whole philosophy of Saint Martin, actually sets itself the task of showing what man could be if he had not fallen from his original greatness.

Now, these connections can no longer be made fully alive today; they are precisely the last offshoot of that way of looking at things which I described this morning as the old way of looking at things. Within the modern science of initiation we must proceed from the scientific way of knowing - not from natural science itself, but from the scientific way of knowing - for that alone will be able to satisfy man in the course of the near future. But with regard to special fields, if we really want to penetrate the anthroposophical content, all the content of any spiritual striving, with the necessary mood, with the necessary uplifting of the soul, with the holy enthusiasm with which we are to penetrate it in order to really understand it - if we want to do that, then we will not be allowed to take the words out of the ordinary colloquial language, but we will have to look at the words as if actually all words up to our civilization had undergone a fall from grace. Words today are no longer what they were: they have become sinful beings. They have fallen down into matter and no longer signify what they signified when they were once still close to that stage of human development in which they were used in the Mysteries. And we must, in a certain sense, take a step upwards in feeling the words. We must make an effort not to stop at what is common colloquial language; otherwise the words will also take on the color, the ‘timbre’ that these words have in colloquial language. The easiest thing to do today is to ascend from the words in the fall of man to a kind of sacred meaning of the words in the Hebrew language. For those languages that have been used more within modern life with its thoroughly unsacramental interests, it is of course difficult for these languages to move up to the sinlessness of words - if I may put it that way - it is not meant so badly, but in a certain respect we must do so. And so we have to be clear: the word “inspiration” has fallen to the point of sinfulness today, where anyone who makes a joke already says they are inspired. - So why not? Basically, the writers, even the cartoonists, of funny papers need a lot of inspiration in today's sense, but it's a profaned inspiration today.

But if we go back to the word in its more original meaning, then we are led into very deep regions of human aspiration.

There I must remind you of the way in which, for example, in India - at a decadent level - a wonderful, admirable form of knowledge has been preserved, which was once much more significant than it is today, but which did not, as it must be today, proceed directly from thinking, but which proceeded from a very specific regulation or even dysregulation of the breathing process. Within the original yoga method it was a matter of raising the breathing process, which otherwise always runs unconsciously in the human being, to consciousness. This can be achieved by changing the rhythm of inhalation, breath holding and exhalation from that which occurs unconsciously. If you give the breathing rhythm different numerical ratios than you have in ordinary everyday breathing, then you breathe differently in relation to inhaling, holding your breath and exhaling. What is called the yoga method is essentially based on such different shapes and forms of breathing. This yoga method brought the whole breathing process to consciousness. Man breathed by consciously changing the rhythm of his breathing: the flow of breath consciously entered into the circulation of the blood. The whole human being undulated and interwove with a changed breathing rhythm. And just as we receive sensory observation in the ray of sight or the ray of hearing, just as we receive knowledge of the colors of the surrounding things through sight, just as we receive knowledge of the sounds emanating from the surrounding things through the ray of hearing, so the one who made the breathing rhythm into an elevated, into a magical perception, felt the soul-spiritual, he perceived in the breathing process the soul-spiritual permeating him. At the moment when the breathing process became fully conscious, and when at the same time that disposition of soul was present which was present in South Asia about seven or eight thousand years before our era, at that moment, through this altered breathing rhythm, one not only sent the physical air into the body with this swelling and surging, but one sent soul and spirit into this flowing breath, and one experienced soul and spirit, insofar as the soul and spirit of man are in this flowing breath.

Now you can materially call the inhalation yes “inspiration” - that is the literal. If one spiritualizes the inspiration, one does what happened in ancient India: then one will experience the spiritualized inspiration, with the breath that has been inspired and spiritualized like any mental being. Then we are dealing with what the word “inspiration” actually always originally meant - even in non-Indian, European languages. So when we speak of the word “inspiration”, we also have to move up, I would say, to the sinlessness of the word. And for this reason I have always been reluctant to write so-called “popular” books on anthroposophy - even though such suggestions have always been made from all sides. Of course, that would be very easy. But even the beginner should not actually be given quite popular books on anthroposophy, but should have something in anthroposophical books that he can - I mean spiritually - break his teeth on, where he has to make a terrible effort, that is something that does not come easily! For in this effort, in the overcoming of that which one must overcome in order to understand something that is difficult to understand, there is at the same time something else. For if one is like - yes, how shall I put it? - popular anthroposophy like a popular speech, then one also has a different taste and a completely different attitude towards the meanings of the words, then one pulls the meanings of the words down into their sinfulness. But if you have to grit your teeth at the difficulty of a beginner's book, then you also acquire a taste for delving into the words. You may even be reminded of some historical events. Take a look at the wonderful way Jakob Böhme ponders the words first, ponders them deeply, before he uses them. I would say that Jakob Böhme distils entire worlds out of the words before he uses them. And so the position with regard to something like “imagination” or ‘inspiration’ or “intuition” or other words, as we use them in ordinary life, is at a lower level than we usually assume. And so I do think that one should not actually try to replace words that are rightly used - “imagination”, “inspiration” - with others, but that one should rather work to elevate these words to their sinlessness for the anthroposophical understanding, at least as long as one is dealing with anthroposophy. When one goes out into ordinary life, one can of course again fall into the sinfulness of the words, there is no harm in that. And so just such an attitude towards words could be extraordinarily beneficial to anthroposophical deepening. So, I mean, anyone who becomes aware of what is in the word “imagination” would in the end, if he is a fanatic, even cry out for a law that forbids the use of the word imagination for this “fantasy” game, so that such a word is preserved for the area where it is actually rightly used.

With regard to the question: “Who or what recognizes in man?” I would like to say the following: Unfortunately, these questions are asked faster than they can be answered, and there is a great deal to be said if one is to answer such a far-reaching, comprehensive question. When such a question is raised, it must be made clear what the content of this morning's speech was actually about. Is it not true that when we speak of the paths to supersensible knowledge, as I did this morning and also yesterday, what is it all about? It is a question of how this human soul, which is present in any human being in the present incarnation, how this spiritual-soul, which is thus present in a physical body between birth or conception and death, how it ascends to the gradual recognition, firstly, of the etheric world of formative forces in the imagination, secondly, through the stillness which I have described, through the empty consciousness, in inspiration, to the recognition of the pre-natal world. And then, through intuition, which is achieved through the special training of the ability to love, one arrives at the view of the previous, or one could also say the previous earth lives, those earth lives which - as I explained this morning - are already objectively confronting the human being, like some external object or process of nature, or for my sake I could also say like another human being is objectively confronting one. If I stand opposite another person in ordinary social life, I am related to that person through the inner kinship of the same human race, but I stand opposite him objectively. I must face my previous incarnations as objectively as another person if I want to perceive them in truth. Then one learns to recognize with the soul-spiritual, which is embodied in the present earthly body, the actual, true I, which goes through the repeated earthly lives.

Now the question seems to me to be this: Who is it actually, or what is it in man that now recognizes this true I that passes through the repeated earth lives, or which member in man is it? - This question itself, ladies and gentlemen, is not really a question that has any real, concrete content. It asks about the subject of cognition. This subject of cognition is precisely that I which is embodied in the present earthly life, which then soars up to cognition. The true I can only be attained by first embracing with one's consciousness that which is included in earthly life between birth and death; then one lives in the I on a certain level; one lives in this I, but one does not yet recognize the true I, which goes through many births and deaths. But through the methods I have described, this higher ego, which one carries in earthly life by bringing oneself to selflessness, is made capable of recognizing the true ego.

And remember: you change the subject during this path of cognition. Firstly, we are dealing with the ego that lives between birth and death; it does not yet recognize the true ego. Now this ego vibrates upwards and is initially the recognizer of the true ego, which goes through repeated earthly lives. In this way it actually identifies itself cognitively with the true I. Thus, by undergoing a metamorphosis, this higher ego is raised into the true ego. And then, when it is elevated into the true I, it can only recognize the true I.

So we cannot ask: “Who or what recognizes in man?”, but we must say: "What recognizes in man in ordinary life is in itself already made into another I, it goes through a metamorphosis, in that it rises from imagination through inspiration to intuition. But then it is a transformed ego for cognition. But the transformation is there precisely in order to reach the true self.

• 1. The word ‘imagination’ is also used in English for “phantasy”.

8 o'clock, Glass House: Meeting of the German friends in the presence of Rudolf Steiner. At the end of yesterday's general meeting, a German member asked when the German friends would meet to discuss their particular tasks. Dr. Carl Unger replied that the next day, from 8 o'clock in the morning, there would be a report for all friends who had come over from Germany.

This early Sunday morning meeting of the German friends was introduced by Dr. Carl Unger, who set out the three points to be discussed: 1. the appeal for funds, 2. the Swiss resolution, 3. the moral fund.

Steiner then took the floor. (Stenographic notes by Hedda Hummel.)

Dornach, July 22, 1923, 8 o'clock in the morning.

I will not be speaking for too long, as I want to leave the details to you. I would just like to say a few words: I would like to take this opportunity, when only German representatives are here, as it seems to me, to say something that should perhaps be known, or known about, only among the German representatives. For of course, the times are such today that the things that should actually be known are misunderstood in the most diverse ways. I would like to say the following, but I expressly note that, of course, there is not the slightest bit of national or similar opinion behind it, but only facts.

The Anthroposophical Society is only justified if it takes into account what can arise from anthroposophical knowledge from time to time, and, I would say, in relation to direct life. You will see what I mean from the following suggestions.

You see, it was of course a kind of naivety to believe that the weak forces of Central Europe could physically hold out against the whole world. I look back on the past times. It was naive to believe that when the coalition of the whole world outside Central Europe came into being. And it was clear from the beginning, since 1914, that it would be naive to believe that there could be any talk of an external victory for Central Europe. Central Europe has not really abandoned this belief until now. It always falls back on certain areas and will not be deterred from extending this belief, at least in the economic sphere, as long as the same is not experienced in the economic sphere as in the political sphere.

It is, therefore, naive to believe that somehow, let us say, within the realm of the physical plan of Central Europe, the means of power of the whole world will be opposed. On the other hand, it must be realized that what the Central European, especially the German spirit has to say to the world has not yet been said and done, that Central Europe still has an enormous amount to accomplish for the world in spiritual terms, and that Central Europe should finally acquire an eye for the fact that in the, if I may put it this way, in the Maja, things sometimes even appear contrary to reality. So that what is currently happening in the world, both in the political and state and in the economic sphere, is actually the opposite of what is happening in the spiritual sphere. It is the true opposite. Because in reality the victories that are being won – and the economic victories will be too – are actually defeats; defeats in the face of evolving humanity. And it will be experienced that in spite of all striving for political and economic preponderance, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of all this, in spite of The spiritual must be taken from Central Europe! And there will arise in the world a longing to take the spirit from the place where one is actually enslaved in an outward way. And this will be intimately connected with the future shaping of the world.

But I do not want it to be forgotten that such things are in many ways connected with human freedom in our present cultural epoch; that it is therefore simply not possible to miss the right moment; that in view of this, vigilance is necessary. And the Anthroposophical Society, above all, would have the task of being alert to what is happening in the immediate present. It would be very easy to miss the moment, which, one might say, is predetermined in history, when the view emerges from numerous centers in the periphery surrounding Central Europe: Yes, we have indeed achieved tremendous external power over Central Europe; but if we do not want to perish spiritually on earth, we must regard Central Europe as the source of spiritual life.

Just imagine the unimaginable possibility that these judgments, more or less emotional judgments, would flare up in the various centers of the world and in Germany all the people would stand around selling their mouths and would not understand what is happening and what actually needs to be done.

These things are the real basis for the formation of thoughts that underlie what is called, so to speak, exoterically — if I may put it that way — “the moral demand”. In our Anthroposophical Society, things must not remain empty words — of course, every idealistic phrase-maker also speaks of moral demands — but for us they must be supported by spiritual reality.

Therefore, to give direction and strength to the spiritual muscles, I wanted to preface these few words.

[The following discussion was about the organization of work in German society, the possibilities of contributing to the financing of construction, and the question of opponents. The continuation was postponed until 3 p.m. It was about the Lempp case, see page 596 for more information.]

10 a.m., carpentry workshop: Second General Assembly of the delegates and members of the Anthroposophical Society. (See the abbreviated general report by Albert Steffen and Dr. Guenther Wachsmuth.)

According to the shorthand notes, the speakers were Albert Steffen, Herbert]. Heywood-Smith, Emil Leinhas, Dr. Wachsmuth, William Scott Pyle, George Kaufmann, Lieutenant-Colonel Seebohm, Jan Stuten, Miss Henström from Stockholm, Miss Woolley from London, Baron Walleen from Denmark, Miss Henström, Lina Schwarz from Milan about a circular letter to the Italian members about the work in Dornach and asks Rudolf Steiner for a meditation to be done together. Dr. Steiner's reply: I can only discuss things of this kind in lectures, not in meetings that actually have a different character. Things of this kind belong in lectures. Then Margarita Woloschin speaks for the Russian friends, Ludwig Polzer-Hoditz, Albert Steffen, Dr. Blümel.

George Kaufmann provides a summary in English.

Rudolf Steiner: It seems to me as if we are now at the end of the conference and I would like to say what I still have to say at the end of the lecture (his evening lecture).

Albert Steffen now closes the meeting, pointing out that there are still many unresolved questions in the air, “for example, the most important one, that of a journal that would have to be formed for the exchange between the periphery and the center. But we have already discussed this question, and there are really major difficulties here that I alone cannot possibly resolve here... And so, as far as I am concerned, I would like to close the meeting today if no one else speaks,

Rudolf Steiner: Regarding the newsletter — I do not consider the conference to be closed, so I do not want to say any kind of closing words, so to speak — but regarding the newsletter, which is often discussed, I would like to make the following comment. It is one thing to do many things; but it is quite another to recognize the necessity for something in a certain abstractness or to really get things going. We had to start somewhere and we really started with good reasons to found the magazine 'Das Goetheanum' here.

Yes, dear friends, but for such a thing one needs the interest of the membership first. The “Goetheanum” is still an “inactive” magazine, as they say, which means that it has to be paid for. And it can be said that this is certainly connected with the lack of interest that has already been discussed. We here are always faced with the question: we have to start somewhere, at the beginning. But often the demand is then made to start at the end. That just can't be done.

We have tried to give a picture of the ruined Goetheanum in the Goetheanum itself. Yesterday, Mr. Leinhas rightly emphasized: nothing has been done — the essays were, I believe, also printed in Anthroposophie in Germany — nothing has been done to make these things known. Apart from everything else that has to be considered when publishing a brochure, where is the prospect of such a brochure being received with any great enthusiasm and being supported in any way, other than what we have just described as the beginning? I believe that just as the Goetheanum magazine has a difficult existence here, so too does anthroposophy have a difficult existence out there in Germany. And a brochure that would be written in such a way that it would emerge from the heart of the matter — because, of course, you can't just fabricate an advertising brochure for anthroposophy —, well, that which would arise from the heart of anthroposophy would today again weigh heavily without there being any interest in it.

Now, a newsletter requires a tremendous amount. It is easy to say that such a newsletter should be made; the reasons are, of course, hundreds that can be put forward for it. But what is needed above all is a revival of interest in the things that are being done. And it is not responsible to continue doing things when the old things are always left lying around. True, a brochure has been produced in Italy, but it has remained, I would say, in a small group of people in the Anthroposophical Society.

We really need more support from our members for these things, because it is truly not an encouraging business to always have to talk about this. But it is all too often made necessary by the fact that things are talked about that really cannot be carried out in the way one imagines them, before one sees how taking by the hand develops for the beginning.

Of course, one could even greet it as a good fact if every lecture given here were to multiply itself and then be carried everywhere by pigeon post. Of course it would be a very good thing. But in thought things cannot be carried out in this way; what would be necessary first is to go into the way in which the attempt to spread the things is made out of the matter itself.

Just think about it: Mr. Steffen actually undertook to report much of what is going on here to the outside world – you can't speak of an attempt in this case, because what is complete in itself can also be considered an independent literary achievement –. Yes, of course, an educational course has been printed. But there was no response to these things from the membership, as there should have been; and there is no possibility of moving on to something more esoteric if we do not start by stimulating more interest among the membership in what is actually being done. It is the lack of interest in things that ultimately underlies the fact that everyone feels more or less unsatisfied with what is being done. But actually, perhaps one could, from the fact, for example, that within society there is someone like Mr. Steffen, who was rightly said at the last Swiss meeting here to be roughly the person who writes the best German style today; it is something that should at least be included as a positive thing.

But really, this fact, for example, which means a great deal for the whole anthroposophical movement, that the anthroposophical movement includes the best German stylist in Mr. Steffen, should be an occasion for the journal “Das Goetheanum”, of which Mr. Steffen has given the Anthroposophical Society the gift of being editor, to would be received in a completely different way than it actually is. I notice so little response from the Society to what is actually in the Goetheanum. I could, when, I think it was a fortnight ago, an attempt was made to see if an echo could be evoked by challenging people to solve the riddles; you could see that at least people wanted to find out what was meant by these riddles.¹ But otherwise far too little of what is in this 'Goetheanum' lives in society. Far too little lives in it. And really, do you believe that it is really extraordinarily difficult for Mr. Steffen or possibly for myself to stand up and say what the 'Goetheanum' actually is for a magazine. You can already... [space in the shorthand].

But you see, I have often heard the judgment: Yes, the “Goetheanum” is just not enough for us. But to this day I have [doubts] whether the journal “Das Goetheanum” means anything to the anthroposophical movement according to the Anthroposophical Society. For us here today, there is still the possibility that the magazine “Goetheanum” is seen as something highly unnecessary by the membership. This possibility still exists, after all. There is no real participation in such a thing, in which something of the best forces is actually put in here every week. Yes, it is not an invective that I would like to deliver here; but it is something to which I would like to draw attention when it is said: We cannot have enough of the “Goetheanum”, that is exoteric, people in the outside world can read that too, we need something much more esoteric. — Yes, just wait and see what fruits come when you first tend to the roots. But the roots must first be cultivated. That is already the case.

We still have the whole afternoon ahead of us, and I will say what I want to say in conclusion in my lecture at the end of the conference.

Emil Leinhas returns to the question of how to distribute the transcripts of Rudolf Steiner's lectures and says that it should also be considered “that Dr. Steiner repeatedly expressed his displeasure at the transcripts and also at their indiscriminate distribution, that it is not at all to his taste. One can well understand the desire for the transcripts, but one should also take into account Dr. Steiner's wish that the transcripts not be distributed in this way.

Albert Steffen: So before I adjourn the meeting until 3:00 this afternoon, Rudolf Steiner: It would be very difficult to meet here in this hall this afternoon.

Albert Steffen: We can immediately feel the difficulties that exist as long as there is no Goetheanum. The Germans wanted to meet in the Glass House, as far as I know, at three o'clock. This hall can only be used until four o'clock at the latest, because there is to be eurythmy at five o'clock.

Rudolf Steiner: I did not want to schedule anything earlier, but just wanted to say: According to the program, the events at five and eight o'clock are also still part of the conference. Therefore, I did not want to say any closing words before the conference ended.

Albert Steffen: I just have to thank Dr. Steiner for what he said about me as a writer. I must say that I see myself as a complete beginner in this respect, so that if I practise with words, I may perhaps achieve something to some extent. In any case, I am only just beginning. And I would at least like to thank the person who addressed me for the remark, who has the best command of the word in the present and in the past, for that person's trust.

3 p.m., Glass House: Continuation of the morning assembly of the Germans (no minutes).

One participant, Hans Büchenbacher, reported on this in “Mitteilungen, herausgegeben vom Vorstand der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft in Deutschland” No. 7, Stuttgart, September 1923, as follows:

At the meetings of the approximately eighty Germans present in Dornach, the friends from the Rhineland were in the foreground. They were convinced that they had significant contributions to make to the Society and that something important for the course of the entire conference had to come from them. At the same time, however, they were in a certain combative mood and particularly in an oppositional attitude towards the leadership of the Anthroposophical Society in Germany. But the following arose from this. At the beginning of the plenary assembly of the Germans on Sunday morning in the glass house, Dr. Steiner spoke in a deeply moving way about the spiritual task of the German people in particular. [Page 585] The fact that Dr. Steiner's words could not be discussed in the following debate was not so much due to the chairmanship of the meeting as to the attitude of the Rhenish friends, as characterized above. The whole discussion took on a chaotic course as a result, and Dr. Büchenbacher was forced to compare the situation with that at the Stuttgart delegates' conference in February. They did not even want to discuss the draft of a statement for Dr. Steiner, which Dr. Unger presented on the occasion of the Lempp affair.²

It was decided to hold another meeting in the afternoon to hear only the Rhenish friends at length, as they requested. They demanded that a Rhinelander should also preside over the meeting. The executive committee did not agree to this, which was entirely justified, and Mr. Leinhas, as chairman of the afternoon meeting, gave the Rhinelanders ample opportunity to say everything they had to say. The fact that the result that emerged was very modest would not have been a problem in itself. But, one may ask, was it necessary to talk to and fro fruitlessly for hours, sometimes in a rather testy manner, so that no time was left for Dr. Steiner's words, for the manifestation for him? Would that the discussions in September, which are so important for the Society, might not be conducted with an attitude that, as the Stuttgart delegates' conference has already shown, seriously endangers the existence of the Society, despite all the emphasis on one's own point of view. So much of the time available for discussion had passed before Mr. Leinhas was able to give the German friends an account of the Lempp affair. Dr. Steiner intervened with great sharpness and certainty, for which we can only be grateful to him, and presented this matter in its fundamental significance. The result was an understandable agitation of the assembly. Now people were urging a show of support for Dr. Steiner. He had already left, as the eurythmy performance was about to begin. There was no longer time for an orderly discussion...

5 p.m., Carpentry Shop: Eurythmy performance with introductory address by Rudolf Steiner (in CW 277).

8 p.m., carpentry workshop: 3rd lecture by Rudolf Steiner on “Three Perspectives on Anthroposophy” (in CW 225) with the announced farewell words to the conference participants:

• 1. Article by Rudolf Steiner: The Philosopher as Forger of Riddles. In: “Das Goetheanum”, 2nd year, no. 48, July 8, 1923, now in GA 36. This article presents four riddles taken from the booklet “Aenigmatias. Neue Rätsel” by Franz Brentano, 2nd edition, Munich 1909.
• 2. For more information, see page 596.

Early in 1919 Rudolf Steiner was asked by the director of the Waldorf Astoria Tobacco Company in Stuttgart, Germany, to give lectures to the factory workers on the question of what new social impulses are necessary in the modern world. Responding to the lectures, the factory workers requested of Rudolf Steiner that he further help them in developing an education for their own children based on the knowledge of the human being and of society that he had opened up for them. By the end of April, that same spring, the decision had been made to establish a new school for the workers' children, the first Waldorf School.

Today, the Waldorf school movement, as it is still known (or the Rudolf Steiner school movement, as it is also called), is one of the largest, and perhaps the fastest growing, independent school movements in the world. In 1984 there were over 300 schools worldwide, throughout Europe, in the United States, Canada, South America, South Africa, Australia, and New Zealand. By 1995, the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Waldorf movement, there were over 600 schools in almost forty countries. Based on a comprehensive and integrated understanding of the human being, a detailed account of child development, and with a curriculum and teaching practice that seek the unity of intellectual, emotional, and ethical development at every point, Waldorf education deserves the attention of everyone concerned with education and the human future.

This book is a transcript of eight lectures plus an introduction to a eurythmy performance, taken originally in shorthand, given by Rudolf Steiner in April, 1923, at Dornach, Switzerland, to a group of Waldorf teachers and others from several European countries—he especially mentions the Czech representatives—who at this early stage had also become interested in Waldorf education. The reader today can readily sense the quality of active engagement that runs through these lectures as Rudolf Steiner explores the basic principles of Waldorf education, and at the same time, as required, confronts specific problems that arose in those early beginnings of the movement when the first school was not yet five years old. The reader is also carried immediately into a rich discussion of issues of central concern for education today. Perhaps the most helpful contribution this foreword can make to the reader is simply to underscore some of these issues.

Rudolf Steiner's holistic understanding of the human being underlies all of Waldorf education. To be sure, nearly every educational reform movement in the modern world claims to be concerned with “the education of the whole child,” and in this way Waldorf education is no exception. In Waldorf education, however, this claim does not remain a generality. Rather, the many dimensions of the human being—physical, emotional, and intellectual, as well as the distinctive characteristics and myriad interrelationships of these dimensions—are presented with great care and precision. Further, their actual, concrete implications for the curriculum, the classroom, and the larger society are developed in detail and in a variety of ways.

In talking about the whole human being, Rudolf Steiner frequently employs the traditional terminology of body, soul, and spirit. Despite its venerable tradition, this terminology may, for many modern readers, strike a strange note at first, especially for most modern educators. And yet, those same readers will just as likely have no trouble at all with the original Greek term for “soul,” psyche, which has acquired a firm and familiar place in the modern vocabulary just as its more recent equivalent, soul, has become somewhat strange and unfamiliar. And “psychosomatic” is the au courant expression for a sophisticated awareness of the mind-body relationship and its interaction—a term that is, however, seldom spelled out, and that often covers more than it reveals. The attentive reader will find that Rudolf Steiner makes use of traditional terminology in a precise, truly nontraditional way to explore and delineate essential dimensions and functions of the human being, which the fashionable Greek of psyche and psychosomatic tend to generalize and blur, and which much modern educational literature ignores altogether. At the very least the reader is well-advised to work with the traditional terminology and test whether or not it is indeed being used with precision and with real efficacy.

Rudolf Steiner does not, however, limit himself by any means to traditional terminology. Many readers will immediately find themselves on familiar ground with Steiner's detailed account of child development. And they may recognize that many aspects of Steiner's description have been subsequently confirmed, and in certain areas filled out, by educational and developmental psychologists working independently of him (Gesell and Piaget come to mind). Readers may also notice some important differences that, together with obvious areas of overlap, invite more dialogue between Waldorf educators and non-Waldorf educators than has yet occurred. Likewise, the crucial importance that Steiner attributed to the early, preschool years—particularly as it relates to an individual's entire life—has since become a commonplace of almost all developmental psychology. No one, however, has explored the educational implications of these early years with the fullness and care for actual curriculum and classroom practice that marks Steiner's work. One example in these lectures is the care he gives to describing the educational and developmental importance of the child's learning to stand and walk, to speak, and to think—all on its own—and the unfolding implications that he indicates these early achievements have for the whole of an individual's life.

Central to Steiner's account of child development is that the child comes to know the world in ways that are specific to the physical age and development of the child, and which serve as an essential foundation for other ways of knowing that follow. The primary way, Steiner points out, by which the very young, pre-school age child comes to know the world and others is through physical, sensory activity. This is an immediate, participative way of knowing by which the child through physical activity, and above all, through imitation, emulation, and play first comes to know and to make the world its own.

There are many interesting potential points of contact between Steiner's description of the child's participative, imitative knowing, and the independent investigations accomplished since his death by others unacquainted with either Steiner's more general work or Waldorf education; these points of contact also offer the promise of a fruitful exchange between Waldorf education and others. For example, the importance, stressed by Steiner, of play, imitation, and activity as being the foundation for all subsequent knowing, even that of formal analytic cognition, which comes into its own with adolescence, has been explored in great detail by many developmental psychologists. Kurt Fischer, for instance, writes, “All cognition starts with action ...the higher-level cognition of childhood and adulthood derive directly from these sensorimotor actions....” And Piaget, early in his work wrote, “At this most imitative stage, the child mimics with his whole being, identifying himself with his model.” Many years before, in the lectures reprinted here, and with the actual implications for education much more at the center of his concern, Rudolf Steiner, in a stunning expression, said that “the young child, in a certain sense, really is just one great sense organ,” imitating and absorbing its whole environment.

The kind of deep knowing Steiner describes here seems akin to the kind of knowing that the philosopher of science Michael Polanyi described later in terms of “tacit knowing”: a knowing-by-doing, a knowing that exists primarily in what psychologist Lawrence Kubie, and others, have called the “pre-conscious.”

Moreover, Steiner's conception expressed in these lectures of the young child as “a sense organ” in which will forces are at work connects directly with all those investigators in the field of phenomenology for whom intentionality, or will, is central to all experience, including perception. As Steiner also emphasizes, this early participative knowing of the child encompasses the moral and the religious, because it involves participation with the environment, with other people, and with one's own experience in being. It is a kind of knowing that involves the being of the knower, and it is the essential foundation for what Philip Phenix has called, “learning to live well as persons.” It is a genuine knowing, which, as both Polanyi and Steiner stress, is always presupposed by more abstract, intellectual knowing. Indeed, Rudolf Steiner's description of the child's first experience of mathematics provides a vivid illustration of this crucially important point. Steiner indicates how the young child has first a lived, but pre-conscious experience of mathematics in its own early physical movements, an experience Steiner nicely describes as “bodily geometry,” a lived experience which then becomes the basis for the eventual development of abstract, mathematical conceptual thinking later on. It becomes clear how the full development of this pre-conscious, tacit knowing, grounded in lived experience is essential to the emergence of truly powerful and insightful abstract conceptuality in later years.

More than any others who have dealt with it, Rudolf Steiner developed in considerable detail the implications of the young child's participative, tacit knowing (to use Polanyi's term for education). Positively, it means that the educator's primary task for the pre-school child is to provide an environment and people worthy of imitation by, and interaction with, the child. Negatively, it means that every attempt to teach young children analytical, conceptual thinking—the wide-spread efforts to teach reading, calculating, and computer skills at an ever earlier age—is premature, and a destructive intrusion that threatens the full development of the tacit knowing so necessary for truly powerful, creative, and self-confident thinking in later life. Although the dominant tendency in modern education is to continue to “hot house” young children to acquire adult reading and calculating skills, some important educators, like David Elkind, are beginning to point out, as Waldorf schools have always done, how destructive this is to the child's eventual educational growth and even physical health.

In the primary school years, Rudolf Steiner points out, the child enters a new stage when the feeling life becomes dominant. The child lives in feelings, and these now become the child's primary way of knowing the world—through the feeling, pictorial, rich image-making capacities that the rhythmic, feeling life makes possible. One can say, perhaps, that while the intelligence of the pre-school child first awakens in the physical life of the child, the intelligence of the child in primary school now awakens mainly in the life of feelings. Steiner explicitly identified these years when the imagination emerges as central between the child's change of teeth and puberty. A few educators have apparently begun to recognize that the change of teeth may, indeed, be an important signal that the child is entering upon a new level of development. It is, Steiner said, a signal that the child's forces, previously involved in physical growth, now become available in a new way for imaginative thinking, and, therefore, need to be nourished and cultivated imaginatively.

It is here that we see the importance of the image in all thinking. Whenever we want to explain, understand, or integrate our experience, we must have recourse to our images. Our images give us our world, and the kind and quality of our world depends on the kind and quality of the images through which we approach and understand it. During the school years when the child lives and knows the world through an imaginative, feeling life, a powerful image-making capacity is either developed or not. It is this vital picture-making capacity that gives life and insight to logical and conceptual thinking. The primary task of education in the primary school years is, therefore, to educate and nourish the imaging powers of the child, and to lead him or her into the development of strong, flexible, and insightful conceptual capacities, which only developed imagination makes possible.

Here the moral dimension in knowing and education appears in yet another way. We are responsible for the kind of images we bring to bear on the world, and the ways we do it. And we are responsible for the care we take in helping children to develop their own strong image-making capacities. Much in modern American education, with its nearly exclusive emphasis on utilitarian, problem-solving skills, neglects entirely the development of the child's imagination. At the same time—through television, movies, literalistic picture books, and detailed toys, all of which leave nothing to the child's own imaginative powers—the children are made increasingly vulnerable to having their minds and feelings filled with readymade, supplied images—other people's images, often of the most banal, even violent and obsessive kind.

Steiner stresses, therefore, the importance of an education during the primary school years that is thoroughly artistic in nature. In these lectures he explicitly criticizes any one-sided emphasis on emotional development that ignores the importance of intellectual development. He also criticizes as nonsense notions that all learning should be play. (In this he transcends the current split between the partisans of so-called cognitive education and affective education.) Rather than emphasizing artistic as opposed to intellectual subjects, his chief concern is to bring together intellect, emotion, and the tacit knowing of will activity in an integral unity. Every subject, especially including mathematics and science, therefore, is to be presented in an imaginative, artistic way that speaks to and nourishes the child's own imagination. In the education sought in Waldorf schools, sound, tone, stories, poetry, music, movement, handwork, painting and colors, and direct acquaintance with living nature and other people permeate the pedagogy and the curriculum of these primary school years.

It is just such an artistic education in this fullest sense that leads to strong conceptual powers in the adolescent and adult years. Other people, such as the philosophers Alfred North Whitehead and John MacMurray, have recognized the centrality of the imaging, feeling life of the primary school child, and have urged that an artistic sensitivity and approach characterize all teaching during these years. Even John Dewey, in one of his more recent books, Art as Experience, and in some later essays, speaks of art as the primary model for all knowing, and of the importance of conceiving of “education as an art.” In these writings Dewey saw how essential an artistic education is to all thinking. Dewey wrote: “... the production of a work of genuine art probably demands more intelligence than does most of the so-called thinking that goes on among those who pride themselves on being intellectuals.” But Dewey never developed the educational implications of his own recognition of the centrality of the artistic-imaginative experience, and American education—although it has been enamored with Dewey's other, narrower stress on problem-solving skills—has totally ignored his later emphasis on artistic imagination and education as an art. Only now are there signs, as in the work of Elliot Eisner that some educators are beginning to recognize how essential an artistic, imaginative approach in education is. Here, once again, Waldorf education, with its seventy-five years of experience, can make an essential contribution to the current educational dialogue. At a time when increasing numbers of Americans are concerned that our schools do everything necessary to develop genuinely self-confident and creative thinking, the importance of the attention given in Waldorf education to the deepest sources of imagination, creativity, and self-confidence becomes more and more apparent.

Perhaps two other elements in these lectures, which speak directly to current American educational concerns, should be briefly discussed. One has to do with the demand of many parents and public figures today that new attention be given in American schools to religious and moral education, and what is often called “teaching values.” In these lectures Rudolf Steiner stresses the importance of thinking about religious and moral education in a way very different from what is customary. At certain points in these lectures the reader will note that Rudolf Steiner and the first Waldorf schools had to grapple with difficult, specific problems posed by the current legal requirements in Germany regarding religious instruction. Even in the discussion of these specific issues, it is clear that Rudolf Steiner rejects any form of indoctrination or empty teaching of abstract religious concepts. Rather, he emphasizes the importance of the teacher. The child brings into life in its earliest years a natural gratitude for being—what Steiner suggestively terms a kind of natural “bodily religion.” And the religious-ethical task of the teacher is to respond in kind—to make available to the child an environment of things, people, and attitudes worthy of the child's grateful imitation; “the task of the teachers is through their actions and general behavior” to create a trustworthy reality for the children to live in.

As the imaginative life flowers in the primary school child, the fundamental ethical-religious education is again to be sought in providing the children with an experience of beauty, fairness, a reverence for life, and a life-giving attitude and conduct on the part of the teacher. The truly ethical and religious dimensions of education have nothing to do with indoctrination, the teaching of empty concepts, “thou-shalt” attitudes, but with the actual experience of gratitude, love, wonder, a devoted interest in one's life tasks and conduct, and a recognition of the worth of the developing individual. Instead of concerning ourselves so much with teaching the children moral concepts, writes Steiner, “we should strive towards a knowledge of how we, as teachers and educators, should conduct ourselves.”

And this points to another current concern within American education; namely, the need to recognize the essential importance of the person and being of the teacher (and the parent) in education. Many recent calls for reform in American education have pointed to the low standing of the teacher in our culture, and the necessity of rectifying this. In these lectures, as elsewhere, Rudolf Steiner has much of crucial importance to say. In this regard, his discussion of the complex, and necessary relationships between the child's experience of genuine authority (not authoritarianism) and the development of freedom and capacity for self-determination in later life is especially pertinent to current educational concerns.

It should, perhaps, also be noted in concluding that in these lectures Rudolf Steiner was speaking to people who had at least an acquaintance with the view of the human being, on which his lectures were based. Occasionally, therefore, the word anthroposophy appears without explanation, and the reader who is meeting Rudolf Steiner and Waldorf education for the first time may have difficulty understanding what is meant. Anthroposophy was the term Rudolf Steiner used to characterize the approach to understanding the whole human being as body, soul, and spirit; while at first foreign to the modern eye, a moment's reflection will show that the term is no more difficult than the more familiar word, anthropology, except that, instead of the Greek word, logos—or “wisdom”—sophie is joined with the Greek word for “human being”—or anthropos. Elsewhere, Steiner expressed his hope that anthroposophy would not be understood in a wooden and literal translation, but that it should be taken to mean “a recognition of our essential humanity.” The ground of Waldorf education is precisely this recognition of the essential human being. Central to Waldorf education is the conviction that each pupil, each person, is an individual, evolving self of infinite worth—a human spirit, for the essence of spirit, Steiner insisted, is to be found in the mystery of the individual self. As the English Waldorf educator John Davy once observed, this is not a fashionable view in a skeptical age, but it is one that carries a natural affinity with all who care about the education and evolving humanity of our children.

This foreword has attempted only to touch on some of the riches to be found in these lectures. Yet, this lecture cycle itself is far from an exhaustive account of Waldorf education. For those who want to explore further, the following lecture cycles by Rudolf Steiner are especially recommended as introductions to Waldorf education: The Education of the Child and Early Lectures on Education; The Spirit of the Waldorf School; and The Kingdom of Childhood. Steiner delivered other lecture series on education that require a deeper familiarity with Waldorf education and anthroposophy. [See pp. 210-211 for a more comprehensive list of titles.] Introductions to Waldorf education by others are also especially recommended: Mary Caroline Richards, “The Public School and the Education of the Whole Person” contained in Opening Our Moral Eye; A. C. Harwood, The Recovery of Man in Childhood: A Study in the Educational Work of Rudolf Steiner; Majorie Spock, Teaching as a Lively Art; and Frans Carlgren, Education Towards Freedom. Useful introductory articles will also be found in “An Introduction to Waldorf Education,” Teachers College Record, vol. 81 (Spring 1980): 322-370.

DOUGLAS SLOAN
Teachers College,
Columbia University

It may well be that the fourth century A.D. has emerged from our considerations as a particularly significant turning point in human development, and I would like to say a few words about what actually took place in this 4th century.

One of the characteristic minds of this 4th century is, of course, Augustine, and when we look at Augustine, we have a true representative of this period before us. To a certain extent, with a part of his being, which he lived out primarily in his youth and in his early years, Augustine points quite clearly back to ancient education. And then we see a rather abrupt transition in his case, which led him to absolute submission to the Roman Catholic Church, so that Augustine became the one who, in a certain respect, set knowledge and insight aside for himself and inwardly and subjectively practically took the concepts of faith completely seriously by professing the opinion that he did not see what the basis of the truth was that he should recognize, and that he professed the truth to which he had finally decided only because the Catholic Church prescribed it. Augustine came to this opinion through hard struggles in life. For a certain period of time, he paid homage to the doctrine known as Manichaeism, the orientalizing doctrine of Mani. This doctrine is one of those that I have already characterized from a certain point of view in these evening reflections. I said: Again and again, from the times that we have come to regard as Indian, Persian, Chaldean-Egyptian, from these ancient times, views emerge as a kind of reaction against what is built up from the development of the primarily intellectual capacity of humanity. The Manichaean doctrine was one such. It just so happens that in those days, in the times when Augustine became acquainted with the Manichaean doctrine in his African homeland, such views actually appeared in a somewhat dubious form. Augustine was initially quite captivated by the Manichaean doctrine. But then he came into contact with a bishop of the Manicheans, Faustus, and the whole way in which this man represented the Manichean doctrine then disgusted Augustine. But through much of what was presented to Augustine, certainly not only as shallow dialectics but perhaps as empty verbiage, one must nevertheless glimpse something essential in this Manichaean doctrine, and this essence can only be inwardly understood if one approaches this Manichaean doctrine from the points of view have been asserted in these considerations, this Manichaean doctrine.

Not much of the true records of such teachings to mankind in modern times has been preserved; only what the Christian teachers of the first centuries quoted and then fought against has been preserved. Thus the most important information from ancient times has come down to us only through the quotations of opponents. But perhaps someone who can empathize with such things will also sense something of the essence of the Manichaean doctrine itself from Augustine's particular attitude towards it. Augustine turns away from the Manichaean doctrine for the reason that he says he has sought the truth, sought the truth in the sun, in the stars, the clouds, the rivers, the springs, the mountains, in the vegetable, in the animal beings, in short, in all that which could confront him as visible. He did not find it there, because all of this offered him only external material things, but he was looking for the spiritual. Then Augustine turned away from the Manichaean doctrine to Neoplatonism, which I have already characterized from a certain point of view. Neoplatonism turned away from the sensual world. It took little account of it and wanted to connect with the All-One in its inner being in a kind of mystical abstraction. This is what attracted Augustine in his later years, and what he presents against the Manichaean doctrine already contains what he had acquired through his immersion in Neoplatonism, in the non-representational, immaterial, non-sensual, abstract world. In relation to the world in which he now placed himself, what Manichaeism could offer him seemed to him, to a certain extent, to be no more than a registering of external, material things, which are then passed off as the divine. But those who come to spiritual science today will first learn to see these things in the right way. Let us consider, from the point of view of today's spiritual science, what may actually be at hand. I have already characterized to you: when one ascends to imaginative, to inspired knowledge, then one gradually becomes acquainted with the inner organs of the human being, concretely acquainted, and it does not result in that mystical world of fog that so many false mystics dream of, but rather it results in an objective insight into the inner organicity of the human being. It is precisely by understanding this inner organicity of man as a result of the spirit, by being able to see through it spiritually, that one gets to know it as material. I will give you an example of this. Let us say that a person who thinks more abstractly gets to know a so-called hypochondriac. An abstract thinker will easily say of a hypochondriac: There is actually nothing particularly wrong with him physically, he is only mentally ill. He is always dwelling too much on his own inner life, he lives entirely absorbed in introspection, as it were, and as a result judges the things of the outer world wrongly, often judging them as if they were persecuting him or the like. In any case, however, he comes into a false relationship with the outer world. And so it easily comes about that we say of the hypochondriac: there is nothing actually wrong with him physically, he is only mentally ill. Such an abstraction comes about because we have not yet penetrated to the actual inner structure of the human organization. This inner structure of the human organization is such that the human being is a threefold creature. There we have the head organization, which, as I have often explained, extends throughout the whole organism, but whose main seat is in the head and is therefore referred to as such; there we have the rhythmic organization of the chest organs, which includes breathing and blood circulation; and there we have everything that exists in the metabolic organism and the limb organism that is connected to it.

Now the fact is that in the head organization the individual organs are turned towards the outer world and are therefore outer sense organs. But in the other limbs of the human organism, too, we find that the organs, in addition to being digestive organs, are also sensory organs to a certain extent, and we find a kind of correspondence, a kind of polarity, between the organs of the head and the organs of metabolism. The organs of metabolism are also sense organs, only they are sense organs that are not directed outwards, but rather to the processes within the human skin. And so we find, for example, that the human being, in his head organization, directed outwards, has the sense of smell; with this he smells what is outside in his environment. Corresponding to this sense of smell, among the digestive organs, is the liver. The liver, so to speak, smells what is inside the person, in its environment. These things must be spoken about quite objectively if one wants to ascend to knowledge at all.

Now, you see, you have to direct your attention to the fact that what is, so to speak, the relationship of the organ of smell to the outside world corresponds to the relationship of the liver to the inner human processes. Now, in a hypochondriac, the liver is always out of order, quite simply as, if you will, a physical organ out of order. That is precisely what occurs in spiritual science, that it not only leads up into a nebulous spiritual realm, but that it also recognizes the material in its essence through the application of its methods, that it can therefore look into the functions of the material. And because liver complaints are usually associated with very little or no pain, they do not appear as a physically perceptible illness, but rather as a mental experience when the liver is not in order and therefore smells wrong on the inside. To the person who really sees through things, the hypochondriac is no different than someone whose liver is not in order and who therefore internally perceives what it very easily perceives as not exactly pleasantly smelling, not in a normal way, but in an overly sensitive way with his sick liver. He constantly smells himself inside, and this smelling, that is what actually underlies the hypochondriacal disposition. You see, you cannot characterize spiritual science as nebulous mysticism, because it leads to a truly objective knowledge of the material world as well. Materialism in particular does not come to these things because it only ever looks at them in abstract forms. Imaginative and inspired knowledge always explains so-called mental illnesses in terms of their physical foundations. From a spiritual scientific point of view, there are many more reasons to explain so-called physical illnesses from a spiritual point of view than there are to explain so-called mental illnesses. As a rule, mental illnesses are the most physical, that is to say, they are based on the most physical causes. And so it must be clear that anyone who sees through the spiritual world will also come to recognize the working of the spiritual in the material. He does not see the liver merely as what it presents itself as to the anatomist who dissects the corpses, but he sees the liver as an organ formed within, which in its outer form differs from the organ of smell, but nevertheless represents a metamorphosis of this organ of smell. And so much of what the spiritual researcher has to say about the material world will be, because he traces it back, I might say, to its spiritual causes, that he points precisely to the revelations of the material, because one recognizes the spiritual much more through the revelation of the material than through all kinds of mystical ravings and mystical nebulous so-called immersions into the inner self. They all arise, after all, from a certain reluctance to concern oneself with real knowledge and to brood over it in one's innermost being, which, after all, arises from nothing more than a certain disposition of physical organs. To practice mysticism in a nebulous sense is itself a kind of mental illness on a physical basis.

You see, something like the seeing of the spiritual in the material, that was what Augustine encountered in Manichaeism. But he was already too much born into - as is well known, he had the Greek mother Monica - the longing to get out of the physical, so that he could not have stuck with it. Therefore, he turned to Neoplatonism, and in this detour through Neoplatonism, he turned to Roman Catholicism.

We can see, then, how in this 4th century, in which the formative years of Augustine's education fall, people actually turned away from the spiritual contemplation of the external world and also of the inner world of man. This turning away was bound to happen. This turning away was bound to happen because man could never have become free, could never have become a free being, if he had felt himself to be only a part of the outer world, as I characterized it in the past evenings. Man had to, so to speak, get out of this amalgamation with the outer world. He had to turn away from the outer world for once. And the culmination of this turning away from the outer world, I would say, the point where man left consciousness: You are a member of the outer world, as the finger is a member of your organism - the culmination lies in this 4th century AD. What characterized the period before this fourth century AD was an evolution of humanity that basically came entirely from the human organism, I would say from the blood. In the southern regions of Europe, in North Africa and the Near East, human beings had already come to be abandoned, as it were, from their own human essence, in so far as it is a physical, an etheric one, and to ascend to an indeterminate state. For one might say that people had to develop into such an emptiness, into a void, where nothing is dependent on blood any more, where what is the view of life is no longer formed from the racial nature of man, people had to develop into such an emptiness in order to enter into intellectuality. What all the individual peoples had developed in terms of worldviews, knowledge and so on before this 4th century AD - of course, this is an approximation when specifying such a point in time - had arisen from their blood blood, just as we develop up to the change of teeth, which we also do not form out of our intelligence, but out of our organic substances, or how we develop up to sexual maturity, finally also out of the organism, and at the same time to the maturity of judgment. Thus everything that these peoples had produced in their old, instinctive imaginations and inspirations developed out of the blood. This had a racial origin everywhere. And when two races, two peoples of different bloods mixed somewhere, then the one people remained down below, they became slaves, while the other population rose to a certain extent, forming the upper ten thousand. Both these social differences and that which lived in the knowledge in the souls of men was entirely a result of race, of blood. But now these southern peoples, these peoples sitting around the Mediterranean, worked their way out of their blood. Now they worked their way through to a, if I may say so, purely spiritual level. For it was in the sphere of the purely spiritual that intelligence had to be developed.

You see, if man had continued to develop only from these Mediterranean peoples after the 4th century AD, he would have been, so to speak, without a foundation. The blood had nothing more to give. From the racial foundations nothing more developed in the way of soul abilities. Man was, so to speak, dependent on developing out of these regions into a vacuum, figuratively speaking.

This vacuum, that is to say this area of development free of racial factors, was now entered by the people of this Mediterranean region. They had to have something else to lean on. They had to receive from outside what used to come to them through their blood. And they received it in that calculating people, who at that time still knew from the old wisdom teachings how things actually are, transferred the old state views of the Roman Empire to the religious realm and founded the outer Catholic Church. This outer Catholic Church preserved what had previously emerged from the different races in the way of spiritual life; it preserved what the ancient times had kept and condensed it into dogmas. These dogmas were to be propagated. Nothing more was brought forth from man, but what was there was condensed into dogmas. And with that, an inanimate element was introduced from which man could really receive from outside what he had previously received from within. For the Latin language was propagated as a dead language, and the life of knowledge proceeded in the Latin language.

And so one had the one spiritual current, which consisted in the fact that what the old view of life had brought ran out, so to speak, in a dead element. If nothing else had come, this dead element would gradually have had to die out. The whole so-called culture would have had to die out. Admittedly, one would have had a high point, for it was a high point that had been lived up to at that time. The Catholic Church itself has taken over many Gnostic, Manichaean elements, only it has discarded the terminology. It has propagated the old world views. She also took up the old cult forms, preserved them and passed them on in a dead language. What thus continued to live was just as incapable of bringing forth anything that could have advanced civilization as, for example, a woman alone is incapable of bringing forth a child.

That was only one side of the being that was now necessary to move forward. The other side of the nature consisted in the fresh blood that the Germanic and other peoples migrating from Eastern Europe had in them. There was blood again. And the peculiar thing was that these peoples, in their development, if we do not take the word now in a judgmental way, but purely objectively in terms of terminology, were lagging behind the southern peoples. The southern peoples had, as it were, advanced at a gallop to the highest level of civilization, from which intellect then emerged. This stood at its highest level of development in the 4th century AD and was now to become established, to continue to live on as a dead intellect. Thus we have the survival of this dead intellect and the emergence of the Germanic blood of the other peoples who emerged to meet it.

If we now study the external historical processes, we come to something extraordinarily interesting. We come to say that in a certain period of time a complete transformation, a metamorphosis of Western life, is taking place. We see, in fact, that in a large, wide area of Europe, the old culture is dying out and a kind of peasant culture is emerging as a result of the so-called migration of peoples. What the upper crust had as their culture in the old Roman Empire is dying out. What remains is what the broad, settled population had, and something similar, albeit different, was also brought by the Germanic tribes. Within this rural way of life, where people actually lived in small village communities and told each other very different things in these small village communities than what the Catholic priests preached to them, within these areas where the village communities were, the Catholic religion was now spread by external power.

That was the one current that was in Latin. What did the people know who saw how their churches were built, how wisdom was passed on in Latin? What did these people, who were the mainstay of the villages at the time, know about what was going on? What they knew about were the stories they told each other in the evening after work, stories that consisted largely of musings, as we have come to know them from the ancient Egyptians and the like.

It was quite a worldview here, going through the time from the 4th to the 8th, 9th, 10th century through the village communities, which had long since been abandoned in the southern regions, at least among the upper crust. A fine culture had long since emerged from these foundations among the upper classes. And now, in the 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th centuries, we see - I have recently explained this in more detail in Dornach, I will only mention it here briefly - how the cities gradually crystallized from the mere village communities. The culture of the city begins, and it is as if the human being is torn away from the outer nature when he is concentrated together in the cities. This city culture, which we can follow from Brittany to Novgorod, deep into the Russian Empire, from above down to Spain, into Italy, everywhere this strange pull towards the city.

And if we look at what actually lives in this transition to urban life, then for those who can study history inwardly, it has a great similarity, an essential similarity to what happened when, after the Trojan War, the cities in Greece developed more out of a farming culture. What happened in Greece in the year 1200 BC was repeated up here now, around the year 950 or thereabouts – all these numbers are approximate – and much as 1200 and 950 years make a difference, so much were these people, who came over from the east as Germanic people, actually behind those in whose area they were now invading. If you add these numbers, the pre-Christian to the post-Christian, you get 2150 or 2160 years, and that is approximately the number of years that lies between two such successive cultures. You can see this from history if you really want to study history. If you ask yourself: how far behind were these Germanic peoples? - it is the length of a cultural epoch. A cultural epoch has lasted just that long, and so one can calculate the degree of maturity of backward peoples by their degree of backwardness.

Now we can also gain a certain clue as to why the fourth cultural epoch, which brought about the actual development of the intellect, begins around 747 BC and, let us say, ends in 1413. That gives you 2160 years. That is the length of such a cultural epoch. Of course, if we go further back, these numbers become somewhat blurred. But that is natural, because historical development cannot be characterized with mathematically exact numbers. These peoples brought something into the blood of the other, the southern population, which was basically there earlier. That was the other current.

And now the world-historical marriage was concluded between what was floating over in the Latin language and what was working its way up to the surface in the vernaculars, in very backward vernaculars. What could develop further had to emerge from these two elements. This then led to the development of the so-called consciousness soul in the 15th century, as I have often mentioned.

The old culture would have had to disappear completely if this new element had not been integrated into it, which in turn was now surrounded by this southern element. The backward and the advanced balanced each other out, and in place of a purely intellectual culture there arose a culture of consciousness.

In this culture, the intellect became a mere shadow. One no longer lived in it as in a grave, but it became a shadowy product, something that only lives in inner activity. And in this way the human being was, as it were, freed from being inwardly possessed by the intellect. He could apply the intellect in his inner activity and could now pass over to the outer observation of nature, as Galilei, Copernicus and Kepler did. But first the intellect had to be freed. If you look at everything that has emerged in European civilization since the beginning of the 15th century, you will see everywhere how it can be traced back to the penetration of this Germanic element into the old Latin-Roman. You can see this quite clearly down to the individual personalities.

Man had, so to speak, stepped into the void by developing from the south. But there was a strong awareness among the leading spirits that with the development of the intellect one enters into something empty. Certain personalities did not want to steer towards something new. If I now hypothetically put this under the aspect of historical development, then what could be said in the time that followed the 4th century AD can be expressed something like this. One could say: We either release the intellect, we let it develop, then the following happens. Whereas in the past what permeated man inwardly with spiritual and soul forces arose from him, he has now reached a highest point where his development has become free, so that he can develop into the void. What no longer clings to his body must, further developed, lead to man penetrating into a spiritual world from without. That was one thing one could have said to oneself. Or one could also say: We retain the old wisdom, we preserve it. Then we can say to people: By developing yourself intellectually up to the 4th century, you have now come to an end. You must not go further. You have come to nothing. Look back now, behind you, not ahead of you; do not continue to walk in the void, so that you may find a new spirituality by walking further. Steeped in this instinct to preserve the old and to hold the intellect back so that it does not develop further, the Eighth General Ecumenical Council of Constantinople in 869 was convened, which made a Catholic dogma out of what is then expressed in the words: Man has “unam animam rationalem et intellectualem”, he has a soul that is thinking and spiritual. But beyond this soul he has nothing, nothing further that is spiritual, for if anything spiritual had been ascribed to him, the way would have been open for him to develop into a new spirituality. Therefore, the tripartite human being was denied the spirit after body, soul and spirit, and only individual spiritual properties were attributed to his soul. He did not have body, soul and spirit, but body and soul, and the soul had thinking and spiritual properties, was rational and intellectual. It could not go further. That had now become dogma. It was nothing more than a statement of what actually existed in the matter of preserving the old and rationally processing the old, which was also intended to prevent further progress on the path of spiritual development. What was to become the child of the two merging currents was to be extinguished.

And that is what has continued to have an effect over the course of the 15th century and into our time. On the one hand, the human being has instinctively matured to gradually engage the intellect, of which he was already completely master, in inner activity. On the other hand, he was unable to keep this activated but shadowy mind in his spiritually empty interior, where it could have become active only on its own shadowiness. Although one would think that one would not try to process a shadow inwardly, that became the subject of all philosophy of that time, which therefore has only a shadowy quality. This is how Kantianism ultimately came about, which only has forms and categories, and which, like the other philosophies of the time, only splashes around in this shadowy realm.

It thus became clear that a shadowy intellect alone could not be used; it had to be filled with something else, and that is now the other side, and that could only be the outside world, that could only be external nature. This did not happen for some reason, for example, because man was once childlike and now gradually came to an understanding of nature, but because man needed it for his development. He needed fulfillment. In the last four to five centuries, we have experienced this fulfillment. The shadowy mind has taken hold of nature. This led to a climax. Right in the middle of the 19th century, the mind had become most shadowy.

While the mind itself is the most spiritual, it had been completely disregarded because it had become a shadow. But they had a developed, extensive natural science. The intellect had become filled with what nature offered from the outside, but the possibility of seeing the soul was fading more and more. This soul could be seen less and less, because when one turned to the outside world, one actually had only the shadowy intellect. That is why psychology, the study of the soul in the 19th century, became more and more, I would say, nominalistic, pure word skirmishing. It is downright bleak to read in the psychologies of the 19th century how people keep talking about feeling, wanting, thinking, and actually only have the words, until Fritz Mauthner finally comes and makes the great discovery that all knowledge consists of words and that people have only ever been mistaken when they sought for something behind the words.

This is characteristic of the 19th century, not of humanity, but of the 19th century. In this respect, Mauthner's discovery is not so bad after all. The 19th century, especially when it spoke of the soul, only wove in words, until people finally recognized this weaving in words, this constant juggling with thinking, feeling and willing, apperception ion and perception and everything possible, that which has emerged in English psychology since Alume, especially in the 19th century since John Stuart Mill, this juggling with mere words, until it became too stupid for people. And they said: Now we have found out something so beautiful in natural science through experimentation, so we also experiment with the soul. - Devices had been developed that could emit signals when a person had a perception. One could then know when this perception became conscious, when a person moved his hand as a result of this perception; one could experiment nicely. Until recently, the tendency has been to assess children's abilities, not by putting oneself in the child's place, by a certain devotion to this childlike mind, but by using apparatus to test memory, thinking, and all sorts of other things, as is reported, for example, in Russian schools, where the old style of testing is no longer used, but where abilities are determined from the outside with the help of apparatus. However, this Bolshevik view has already penetrated into our areas. Certain opponents of anthroposophy would also like to determine in such an external way whether this anthroposophy is based on truth, but that only corresponds to a Bolshevik prejudice. All this has its origin in the fact that, by ignoring the spirit, people have gradually come to apply the shadowy intellect to nature and, while producing a magnificent natural science, have left the soul-life unconsidered. But now this soul is asserting itself again, from the depths of the human being, and wants to be explored. To do this, it is necessary to go back the way we came, to remember it, so to speak.

Even if modern science believes itself to be independent, it is still under the influence of the dictate of the Church that man consists only of body and soul and has no spirit. We must come to the spirit again. And basically, spiritual science is just this striving to come to the spirit again and thus to explore the soul of man again, that is, to explore man himself. One will pass through an element that is indeed unpleasant for many, through the organization of man; but it is precisely through this that one will find the truly spiritual in man. But that means that spirit must be reintroduced into the contemplation of humanity. Today, however, there is a considerable obstacle to this, a formidable obstacle. One would almost be afraid to speak of this obstacle, because it is very slippery ground, but the whole signature of the time must be examined. People must become aware of what is actually the impulse of our time. You see, we must consider the following.

Since the middle of the 15th century, when man has lived in the shadowy mind and actually experienced his entire soul existence as a shadow, since that time man has been completely dependent on external nature. And so he gradually came to investigate the external phenomena of nature experimentally, not only in the way that Goethe, who was still inspired by the spirit of antiquity, investigated them, but to seek behind the phenomena for something that is basically also only a kind of phenomenon, but which must not be placed within them. Man came to atomism. Man came to think of the sense world as having another invisible sense world, smaller beings, demonic beings, the atoms. Instead of moving on to a spiritual world, he moved on to a duplicate of the sensual world, again to a sensual but fictitious world, and in this way his cognitive faculty froze for the external sense world. And in the course of the 19th century, this produced more and more something that had always been present, but which only emerged with full radicalism from this complete paralysis of the ability to perceive the external sensory world in the 19th century. That was the over-intellectualization of the law of the conservation of energy. It was said: In the universe, new forces do not arise, but the old ones merely change; the sum of the forces remains constant. If we consider any given moment, so to speak cutting out of world events, then up to this moment there was a certain sum of energies; in the next moment these energies have grouped themselves somewhat differently, they have moved around differently, but the energies are the same; they have only changed. The sum of the energies of the cosmos remains the same. You could no longer distinguish two things. It was perfectly correct to say that measure, number and weight remain the same in the energies. But that is confused with the energies themselves.

Now, if this energy doctrine, this law of the constancy of energy, which today dominates all of natural science, were correct, then there would be no freedom, then every idea of freedom would be a mere illusion. Therefore, for the followers of the law of the constancy of energy, freedom increasingly became an illusion. Just imagine how people like Wundt, for example, explain the freedom that one does feel after all. If I, let us say, am the donkey of the famous Buridan between two bundles of hay, left and right, which are the same size and the same taste, then if I were free, that is, if I were not pushed to one side or the other, I would have to starve to death because I could not make up my mind. When I have to decide not only between two such things, but between many, then, according to such psychologists, I am driven to it nevertheless, but because there are so many concepts that shoot into each other, what obsesses me inside and what works in confusion there, I decide at last and, because I cannot see what actually compels me to do it, I get the feeling of freedom. Yes, it is not ridiculous, it is really not ridiculous for the reason that what I have told you now – I did not expect at all that one would begin to laugh – is stated in numerous very learned works as a great achievement of modern thinking, which is born out of natural science; thus it is actually indecent toward science to laugh about something like that. Well, you see, freedom would be impossible if the law of conservation of energy were true. Because then I would be determined by everything that has gone before at every moment, the energies would merely be transformed, and freedom would have to be a mere illusion. This is what has happened as a result of the development of mankind in the 19th century, through the establishment of the law of the constancy of energy, that we have a view of nature that excludes freedom as an idea, makes it impossible, that makes man unconditionally a product of the necessary order of nature. Things were already prepared, I would like to say, people have felt this way for centuries. What about things like moral responsibility, ethics, religious conviction, which really cannot exist if there is only a natural order? The materialists of the 19th century were honest in a way, they therefore denied these ethical illusions of the old days and really did explain man as only a product of natural necessity. But others could not go along with this, partly because they did not have the courage, like David Friedrich Strauf? or Vogt, or partly because they had sinecures within which they were obliged to speak of freedom, ethics, and religion. You can't go into such things there. The matter had been awkward for a long time, and so it came about that people said to themselves: Yes, with science, you can only do something about necessity. This science proves that the world has emerged from a primeval nebula and that each successive state has always necessarily developed from the earlier one, that the sum of forces has remained constant and so on. With this science, there is no starting point for ethics, religion and so on. So away from this science! Nothing with science, only faith! You have to have a double accounting, on the one hand for the outside world, for the natural world: science; on the other hand, faith, which now determines ethics, even proves God. So we save ourselves to a completely different area than that of science.

The after-effects of this peculiar state of affairs can be seen everywhere since the emergence of newer spiritual science. Those who want to save this belief are called Zaun, Niebergall and Gogarten, and I could tell you a whole series of people, Bruhn, Leese, who think that the field of faith must be saved; when science breaks in, things get bad. So science, everything is accepted, everything is allowed to go, only what we want is called something else: faith. Now, as I said, it was the law of the conservation of energy, but that is only a dogmatic, now a scientific-dogmatic prejudice. Because in the end, what does it actually mean? You see, someone can do the experiment, can say: Yes, I stand in front of a bank building and watch how much money is brought in, and form statistics from that. And then I observe how much money is carried out and also make statistics about that, and I see, nevertheless, the same amount of money is carried out that was carried in. Now I am supposed to still rise to the idea that people work in there! What comes out is only the converted money. It is purely the law of the constancy of the size of money. Very nice experiments have been carried out, which, it seems, have been extended to students. The heat energy of the food has been calculated, and it has been calculated what these people have done, and it has been correctly calculated what was eaten and worked out: the law of conservation of energy! This law of conservation of energy is based on nothing more than a whole series of such prejudices. And if we do not rise above this law of conservation of energy, we will continue to extinguish the spiritual with this law of conservation of energy. For this law of conservation of energy is the implantation of intellect in external nature and the disregard of the soul.

We can only penetrate further into the soul if we in turn penetrate into the spiritual , and to penetrate into this spiritual realm means nothing other than to truly understand what actually entered into world evolution at the beginning of the Christian era as a completely new impulse, the Christ Impulse. I have already mentioned that it was understood in the way that it could be understood by one or other school of thought. But today we are compelled to understand it anew. For a time it was understood in such a way that people did not want to admit that the intellect, going out into the void, could come to a new spiritual realization. I have already told you that Neoplatonism took the Christ into the human soul. This has remained the custom until now. As we penetrate outwards, we must also think of the Christ as being connected with the outer world, that is, we must bring him into the evolution of the outer world. But that is precisely what is being fought against in anthroposophy: not only talking about the Christ in empty phrases, but also seeing him in connection with the whole evolution of the world. And when it is said that it is truly a cosmic event, that a cosmic being has really appeared in a human body, in Christ, that just as sunlight on the earthly plane unites with the earth every day, permeating the earth as something cosmic, so too in the spiritual realm such things take place, this is still not understood, especially by today's scholars. But it is necessary that what has been gained in the field of natural science should be applied to the inner world, so that this intellect, which has become a shadow, but precisely for that reason has become applicable to the outer world as a free human faculty, should also become applicable to the inner world. Therefore, the ascent to imagination, to inspiration, must come about, and thus the ascent to real spiritual knowledge must come about.

The necessity of natural science arises from the historical development of humanity, and the necessity of ascending to spiritual science arises from the existence of natural science. Turning to spiritual science in the anthroposophical sense is not a quirk, but an historical fact of development in itself. But, as I said, it is necessary to tread on thin ice in order to point out where the obstacles are. On the one hand, the obstacles are to be found in something like the law of the conservation of energy. In the 19th century, two laws were intended to limit the human intellect in two ways to that which lives only in the earthly-sensual, in the material. One of these laws was decreed by a council of natural scientists as the law of conservation of energy. If this law is correct, then human knowledge cannot advance to the acknowledgment of the spiritual and of freedom, but must remain at the level of a mere mechanical necessity, and then it must remain at the level of a mere soul, which gradually becomes shadowy. But then one cannot go beyond what has already been established by the eighth Ecumenical Council of Constantinople in 869.

These are the two councils: one that started from the natural science side. The other council stands in polar opposition to it. It is the one that in 1870 declared the infallibility of the papal chair when it speaks ex cathedra. In order to arrive at knowledge, people no longer appeal to the spiritual, but to the Roman Pope. The Pope is the one who decides ex cathedra on what is to be true or false as Catholic doctrine. The decision about truth and error is brought down from spiritual heights to earth, into the material world. Just as our knowledge is immersed in the material world through the law of the constancy of force, so is the living development of the human being in the spiritual immersed in the material through the dogma of infallibility. The two belong together, the two relate to each other like the north and south poles.

What we need in the development of humanity, however, is a free spirituality. The ruler must be the spiritual itself, and man must find his way into the spiritual. Therefore, we need the ascent into the spiritual. We need this ascent to raise ourselves up, on the one hand, from the defeat that the spirit has suffered as a result of the law of the conservation of force being established, and from the other defeat that it has suffered as a result of all that is religious having been materialized by the decision about right and wrong being brought down to earth from Rome. It is understandable that a breakthrough in the path of the spirit is not easy today, because the world is thoroughly superficial and is terribly proud of its superficiality. It lets authorities decide, but the authorities sometimes decide in a very strange way. I recently read an article written by a professor who teaches here but lives in a neighboring town, because a local paper had asked him to give an authoritative judgment on this anthroposophy. This professor wrote all sorts of things in this article. Then, in the middle of it, you come across a strange sentence. It says that I claim, in describing the spiritual world, that one can see in this spiritual world how spiritual entities move freely like tables and chairs in physical space. Now that is Traub's logic! Seeing tables and chairs move in physical space – I don't want to examine the mental state of the author at the moment when he wrote such a sentence! But today the journals turn to people of such spiritual caliber when an authoritative decision is to be made about spiritual science. People are strange sometimes. For example, there is a fence. Because I have to give a lecture tomorrow, I read this booklet by Laun yesterday. I always asked myself: Yes, why does Laun talk such nonsense? I actually couldn't understand it because I didn't hear any human voice; it was something very hollow. However, I did come across a very strange sentence, which roughly reads – I don't have the pamphlet here –: It is true, however, that a Catholic Christian, if he were to judge anthroposophy, would actually be like a person who could not know anything about anthroposophy. – That is literally what it says. You can really believe Canon Laun, because then he says quite correctly: Yes, it would be self-evident that a Catholic Christian cannot know anything, because since July 18, 1919, Christians have been forbidden to read the books. They are not forbidden to write counter-writings, but they are forbidden to read the books! - They are not allowed to know anything. There are really strange people.

And that is just the other extreme, this state of having arrived at a completely passive devotion, now not to a spiritual thing, but to something very worldly, to something that definitely exists in the material world. And so one could enumerate many more examples. If one wanted to describe the morality of our time in a little cultural history, one would find many a cute little document. But I will give you just one more example. Here a dangerous heresy – you can guess what it is – is discussed in a feature from Göttingen. But the editors apparently count on the fact that the readers who read this have not read anything at all, have actually not heard anything correct about the subject under discussion. Therefore, a note of fourteen lines is made, and in these fourteen lines, Anthroposophy and Threefolding. I will spare you the treatise on Anthroposophy; I will just read you the last sentence, which is about the threefolding: “The movement strives for the highest possible development of humanity. It has also defined its views with regard to the state. It seeks a division into economic, financial and cultural states!” There you have the threefold order: in the economic, financial and cultural state! So you see, this is how one tries to educate those one is addressing in such criticisms, and one can educate them in such a way. One writes such articles by making comments in which one shows oneself to be so well informed! It is difficult to really struggle through to an understanding of the spiritual world, especially when on the one hand there is the impulse of world-historical development and on the other hand there is the scientific way of thinking, which, one might say, has only been perverted into its opposite with the discovery of the law of the constancy of energy or power. Much will rise up against this work, which consists in the cognizant grasping of the spiritual world. But this work must be done, and even if the opponents have the power to crush it for a time, it must arise again, because if we are to learn from history, we must not only learn to speak from this history, but we must learn to fuel our will and warm our hearts from this history! If we allow history to have this effect on us, then it will show us what our deeds must fulfill, what must penetrate into the spiritual, into the legal-national, into the economic as spiritual.

That is what I wanted to say in conclusion. I wanted to give you an objective presentation of how natural science grows out of the course of human development, and to give, at the end, this perhaps only as an appendix, the realization that it is a lesson of real history, not an agnostic history, that we have lived through in the 19th century, but that it is a teaching of real history: we human beings, we must through to spiritual knowledge!

If you will think back to the dramatic scenes we have had before us these last few days, you will find that they lead into what we will consider in this lecture cycle. First of all, I would like to call to mind Scenes Nine, Ten and Thirteen of The Souls' Awakening. These are scenes whose effect one could call simple and straightforward. After the happenings in the Spirit Realm (Scenes Five and Six) and the Egyptian initiation (Scenes Seven and Eight), some people might have expected a much more forceful sequel coming before their eyes of soul, more tragic, perhaps, or more emphatic in speech, not just a subsiding into inner quietness. However, anything formed differently in Scenes Nine, Ten, and Thirteen would appear untruthful to the occult eye.

We see on stage various developments of soul. It should be said immediately that we have also given theoretical descriptions of the development into higher worlds, and these contain points of reference for every person on his or her path towards the spiritual world. Nevertheless, soul development is necessarily different for each one, according to his own special nature, character, temperament and circumstances. We can therefore gain a deeper understanding of an esoteric soul development only when we observe its diversity: how differently it takes place in Maria, how differently in Johannes Thomasius, how differently in the other characters of the drama.

Scene Nine is first of all directed to that psychological moment when the consciousness breaks into Maria's soul of the experiences that had penetrated to her very core but not altogether consciously during the devachanic¹ time before birth and in the ancient Egyptian initiation. In what was presented to us as “Spirit Realm,” we are concerned with soul experiences between death at the end of a medieval incarnation and birth into our present time. The events of all four Mystery Dramas, with the exception of the episode in The Souls' Probation that represents the spiritual review of his previous life by Capesius, take place at the present time, a time linked to the spiritual past spent in Devachan, between the death of the various characters after their incarnation in the Middle Ages (this being the content of the episode mentioned) and their present life.

The experiences of the devachanic period differ according to the preparation our souls have made on earth. It must be understood that it is a significant experience when a soul can go through what is called the Cosmic Midnight with consciousness. Souls that are not prepared for it will sleep through that part of the time called the Saturn period of Devachan (one can designate the successive periods a soul undergoes between death and a new birth as connected with the various planets: Sun, Mars, Mercury periods, and so on). Many souls sleep through the whole Cosmic Midnight. Souls that have been prepared are awake in this period of their spiritual life, but there is no guarantee that souls so prepared will also bring a clear memory of this experience into their life on earth when they come back into physical existence.

Maria and Johannes were well prepared for the experience of the Cosmic Midnight during their time in the spirit between death and new birth. Nevertheless a kind of soul darkness prevailed at the beginning of their earth lives, continuing over long periods of time and shrouding the experience of the Cosmic Midnight; then at a later stage of their present life, this rose to the surface. It reappeared only when a certain inner calmness and resolution of soul was reached. Significant and profound are the experiences of the Cosmic Midnight when the soul is awake to them. The earthly memory of all this must come as a calm inner experience, a luminous inner experience, for the effect of such a perception of the Cosmic Midnight is this: what formerly was only subjective, working inwardly as soul force, now appears as a living being or beings before the soul. As shown in Scene Nine of The Souls' Awakening it presents itself before Maria in the forms of Astrid and Luna as real beings. To Johannes Thomasius the Other Philia becomes a living being of the spiritual world, and to Capesius, Philia, in Scene Thirteen. These characters had to learn to feel perceptively that what before this were only abstract forces within themselves now could appear to them in a spiritually tangible form.

What comes to souls spiritually tangible as genuine self-knowledge has to appear in complete soul quietness, the result of meditation: this is essential if such happenings are to be experienced in the true sense of the word for genuine strengthening of the soul. If a person wanted to experience the Cosmic Midnight as retrospective memory or to experience what is shown as the Egyptian initiation not in the clear light of meditation but as intense tragedy, he would not be able to experience them at all. For the spiritual happening that is taking place in the soul would place itself like a dark veil before it, so that any impressions recede from observation. A soul that has experienced the Cosmic Midnight and in its deepest core received a momentous impression of the kind shown in Scenes Seven and Eight of The Souls' Awakening can remember the past happening only when the soul in completely lucid calmness can perceive thoughts approaching, thoughts about earlier experiences in the spiritual life or in the former earth life. This is what is expressed in the words at the beginning of Scene Nine:

A star of soul ... there ... at the spirit shore ...
it draws near ... nears in spirit brightness ...
my Self it brings... and nearing,
its light gains strength ... gains calmness too.
You star within the circuit of my spirit ... what,
approaching, shines on my beholding soul?²

Only when the soul is in this calm mood, so that the experience does not whirl in upon it with tragic vehemence, can one feel the arising memory of the Cosmic Midnight and the experiences of the previous incarnation as occultly true. When it is experienced and lived through, the Cosmic Midnight has a profound significance for a person's emotional life. There one lives through what can only be expressed as follows: In the Cosmic Midnight things are experienced that he hidden deep, deep down under the surface, not only of the sense world but also under the surface of the various worlds to which a dawning clairvoyance can lead. The sense world recedes, and also there recedes from clairvoyant vision in some of those who have already been able to discern various layers below the sense world, what we may call (and we will speak of it at length later on)—the Necessities in cosmic events. The Necessities are rooted in the foundations of things, where also the deepest part of the human soul rests. This, however, evades the physical gaze and also the dawning clairvoyant gaze, revealing itself to the latter only when something is experienced like the Saturn period scenes. One may therefore say that to such a clairvoyant gaze, which indeed must first appear between death and a new birth, it is as if lightning flashes were crossing the soul's whole field of vision, lightning whose terrifying brilliance was illumining the Cosmic Necessities, which at the same time were themselves so blindingly bright that the cognitive gaze dies away in the radiant light. Then from this expiring glance of cognition there come forth picture forms that enweave themselves into the cosmic web like the forms from which grow the destinies of the cosmic beings. One discovers in the foundations of the Necessities the fundamental causes of human destinies and those of other beings, but only when one gazes with glances of cognition that die away in the knowing, destroyed by the lightning flashes; they then remodel themselves as if into forms that have died but that live on as the impulses of destiny in life.

All that a true self-knowledge can discover in itself—not the self-knowledge so bandied about in Theosophical ranks but the highly serious self-knowledge that comes to pass in the course of esoteric life³—all that a soul can perceive within itself, with all the imperfections it has to ascribe to itself, all this is heard at the cosmic midnight as if enwoven into rolling cosmic thunder, rumbling in the underground of existence.

All these experiences may take place with great anguish and solemn resolve between death and a new birth as an awakening at the Cosmic Midnight. If the soul is mature enough to allow the consciousness of this to enter the physical sense world, it must happen in the quiet clarity of the meditative mood hinted at by Maria at the beginning of Scene Nine. What, however, the soul has perceived within its spiritual life must have preceded this, as if something of itself, something belonging intimately to itself but not always dwelling in what one can call the Self, had approached from world distances. The mood in which something in the spirit world approaches one like a part of oneself, yet as though coming from far away: this was attempted in the words Maria speaks in the Spirit Realm (Scene Six):

The flames are nearing—nearing with my thinking
from distant cosmic soul-shores of my being.—
A heated battle nears—and my own thinking
must battle with the thoughts of Lucifer;
within another soul my thinking fights.—
Hot light is wafted—out of fierce dark coldness.—
It flashes lightnings, this hot light of soul—
the light of soul—in cosmic fields of ice—

The memory of the experience that can be expressed in such words as this can be rendered again in the words of Maria mentioned above at the beginning of Scene Nine (“A star of soul ...”). What, however, the soul has to feel in order to have such a memory of the Cosmic Midnight must also lie in one's earth life, for here the human soul goes through events which bring to it the moods of inner anguish, inner resolve, inner dread, that one can only express in such words given to Maria to speak at the end of Scene Four. Indeed, one has to have felt that the individual self tears itself away from what one generally calls the inner life; that the power of thinking, with which one feels so confidently connected in life, tears itself out of the inner being and seems to go off towards the far, far limits of one's field of vision; and one must have found alive in oneself as soul presence what is expressed in such words—though naturally these will seem complete nonsense, overflowing with contradictions, to the sort of comprehension limited to the external senses and tied to the brain. One must first have experienced the feeling of one's own self moving away, of one' s thinking moving away, if one is to live through again in complete calm the memory of the Cosmic Midnight. The memory during earth life must be preceded by the experience of the Cosmic Midnight in the spiritual life, if what is in Scene Nine should take place.

To make this possible, however, there must again have been the soul mood expressed at the end of Scene Four. The flames do in truth take flight; they do not come earlier into earthly consciousness; they do not approach the calm of meditation, before they have first fled away, until this soul mood has become a truth:

The flames are fleeing ... fleeing with my thinking;
----------------------------------------------------------
And there at distant cosmic shores of soul
a furious battle ... my own thinking fights ...
at flowing nothingness—cold spirit light ...
my thinking wavers, reels ... cold light ...
it strikes out of my thinking flaming waves of darkness ...
what now emerges from the fierce, dark heat?
in red flames storms my Self ... into the light ...
into cold light ... of cosmic fields of ice.

These things are linked together; their being connected in this way strengthens the inner soul faculties. What at first was only an abstract soul force now steps before the soul in a spiritual body, so that in one sense it is a special entity, on the other hand it belongs to one's self, as Astrid and Luna appear to Maria. These beings, who are real and at the same time perceived as soul forces, appear in such a way that they can stand on stage with the Guardian of the Threshold and with Benedictus as they do in Scene Nine. The most important thing is to sense the mood of this scene so that in a quite different, individual manner, when the inner soul force corresponding to the Other Philia takes on bodily form, an awakening takes place, that is, the memory of the Cosmic Midnight and of the ancient Egyptian time in Johannes Thomasius. To such a finely attuned soul as Johannes Thomasius the words of the Other Philia: “Enchanted weaving of your own being...” have a special meaning, as well as what is connected with them during the rest of the Mystery Drama. Because of this, the Spirit of Johannes' Youth, Benedictus and Lucifer appear as they do at the end of Scene Ten. It is important to bring before the mind's eye in just this scene how Lucifer approaches Johannes Thomasius and the same words are spoken that were heard at the end of Scene Three in The Guardian of the Threshold. In these words one discovers how the battle Lucifer wages moves through all the worlds and through every human life, and one also discovers the mood that resounds out of the words of Benedictus in answer to Lucifer. Try to feel what lies in these words which sound from Lucifer both in The Guardian of the Threshold at the end of Scene Three and in The Souls' Awakening at the end of Scene Ten:

Lucifer: I mean to fight.
Benedictus: And fighting serve the gods.

Let us note very carefully something else at this point, that although the same words are spoken in these two places, they can be spoken so that in each place they mean something quite different. What they mean at the end of Scene Ten of The Souls' Awakening is determined by the fact that the preceding words of Maria are transformed from words spoken in The Guardian of the Threshold, while in Maria's soul there lives what she had spoken:

Maria, as you have desired to see her,
does not exist in worlds of radiant truth.
My holy, solemn vow rays forth new strength
to hold for you what you have gained.

She says now:

You'll find me in bright fields of light ...

She no longer says:

And you will find me in cold fields of ice ...

but

You'll find me in bright fields of light
where glowing beauty brings forth powers of life.
Seek me in grounds of worlds where souls
must struggle to achieve their feeling for the gods
through love, which in the All beholds the Self.

The words are turned around from what they are in Scene Two of The Souls' Awakening. It is through this that the dialogue between Lucifer and Benedictus at the end of Scene Ten: “I mean to fight”—“And fighting serve the gods,” becomes entirely different from what it was at the end of Scene Three in The Guardian of the Threshold. In understanding this, light is shed on something of an ahrimanic thrust, one can say, that prevails in all intellectual thinking, in the whole intellectual culture of today.

It is one of the most difficult things for people with this superficial faculty of intellect in our modern culture to realize that the same words in a different context mean something different. Modern civilization is such that people think that the words they use—in so far as they have been coined on the physical plane—must always mean the same thing. Here we have precisely the place where Ahriman has people most firmly by the throat, and where he hinders them from understanding that words only become living in their deepest sense when one looks at them in the connection in which they are uttered. Nothing that reaches out beyond the physical plane can be understood if one does not keep this occult fact in mind. It is especially important today that an occult fact of this kind should work upon our hearts and souls as a counterbalance to the external intellectual life that has taken firm hold of every human being.

Among the many things that have to be considered in these Mystery Dramas, notice how indeed in The Souls' Awakening the remarkable figure of Ahriman steals in quietly at first,⁴ how it seems to insinuate itself among the other characters and how it continually gains in significance towards the end of the drama. I shall endeavor to bring out for you a special piece of writing about Lucifer and Ahriman, and other things as well, entitled The Threshold of the Spiritual World;⁵ it will be on hand during this lecture course, for these seem to me the subjects particularly necessary to illumine for our friends at this time. It is not easy to get a clear understanding of such figures as Ahriman and Lucifer. Perhaps it may be useful for some of you to observe how precisely in The Souls' Awakening he who is not quite in a fog about the ahrimanic element in the world may be able to think of things which someone else through unconscious ahrimanic impulses may be thinking, too, but in a different frame of mind. There will be many among you, dear friends, who can enter into all the circumstances which stream into such words as those expressed by Ahriman while he is insinuating himself among the various persons:

Do not permit him to confuse you quite.
He guards the threshold faithfully indeed,
although he shows himself in borrowed clothes
which you have patched together in your mind
from odds and ends that look like melodrama.
You as an artist could, of course, avoid
producing him in such a wretched style,
though later you will surely do it better.
But even his distorted image serves.
It does not need too much of emphasis
to show you what his present stature is.
You should take notes of how the Guardian speaks:
too mournful is his tone, too much of pathos.—
Forbid him this, and he will show to you
from whom today he borrows to excess.⁶

I can imagine that many people—from some aesthetic point of view or other—will shake their heads at the way these Mystery Dramas are put before us. My dear friends, these objections as well as others raised against anthroposophy can be set aside by those who put themselves in the mood of Ahriman. The hypercritical people of our time who denounce anthroposophy certainly belong to those described by the poet: “The devil's never noticed by some folk, even when he has them by the neck!” We can judge these opponents of anthroposophy a bit by what Ahriman is saying here while he prowls around. He meets us in his more serious form when the death of Strader gradually plays into the events presented in the drama; it comes about then that the forces flowing out of this death must be sought by soul vision in the effect they have on everything else that happens in The Souls' Awakening.

It must be said again and again that this awakening takes place in different ways. For Maria it happens that, through special circumstances, the soul forces that find their bodily-spiritual expression in Luna and Astrid appear before her soul. For Johannes Thomasius it takes place when he experiences in himself the enchanted weaving of his inner being, on the Other Philia's appearance in a spiritually palpable form, if one may use such an absurd expression. For Capesius it happens through Philia in a still different way. In many other forms this awakening can gradually dawn upon souls, for instance, as we see it dawn upon Strader in Scene Eleven. Here we do not meet what we have just described as the spiritually tangible forms of Luna, Philia, Astrid and the Other Philia; we have the still imaginative pictures that radiate spiritual experiences into the physical consciousness. This stage of the awakening of the soul that takes place in Strader can be represented only by such an imaginative perception as the image of the ship in Scene Eleven.

In yet another form can the awakening of the soul gradually prepare itself. You will find this, carefully planned, after Ahriman has been shown in his deeper significance in Scene Twelve: it is hinted at in Scene Thirteen in the conversation between Hilary and Romanus. Let your mind's eye rest on what has been happening in Hilary's soul between the events in The Guardian of the Threshold and those of The Souls' Awakening, expressed in these words of Hilary:

My friend, I thank you for these occult words.
I've heard them often; for the first time now
I feel the secret meaning they contain.
The cosmic ways are hard to penetrate.
And I, dear friend, am called upon to wait
until the spirit shows me the direction
which is in keeping with my spirit sight.

What are the words Romanus had spoken?⁷ They are words that Hilary has heard again and again from the place where Romanus stands in the Temple, words that Romanus has so often spoken at this place, yet until this experience, they had passed before the inner vision of Hilary without the deeper understanding one can call understanding of life. It is also a bit of soul awakening for someone to wrestle his way to an understanding of what he has taken in as thought-forms, grasping them pretty well and even lecturing about them but still without having a living, vital understanding. He may have absorbed everything of anthroposophy contained in books, lectures and cycles, may have even imparted it to others, perhaps to their great benefit, and yet discover this: to understand as now Hilary understands the words of Romanus is only possible after a certain experience for which he must calmly wait. This is a definite stage of the awakening of the soul.

O if only a good number of our friends could put themselves into this mood of waiting! If only they could adopt this frame of mind, of awaiting the approach of something whose description in advance both as theories and explanations has apparently been clear enough and yet misunderstood—then something would take place in their souls that is expressed by Strader's words in Scene Three of The Souls' Awakening. Strader stands there between Felix Balde and Capesius, stands there in a remarkable way—he stands there so that literally he hears every word they say and could repeat it, and yet he cannot understand it. He knows what it is, can even consider it to be wisdom, but now he notices that there is something that can be expressed in the words:

Capesius and Felix, both ... to me ...
conceal dark meaning in transparent words ...

Our supremely clever people today will perhaps concede that by chance this or that person can hide meaning—clear meaning—in obscure words. However, it will not easily be granted by these clever people that an obscure meaning can be hidden in clear words. Nevertheless for human nature to concede that in clear words an obscure meaning may be hidden is of the two the higher acknowledgment. Many sciences are clear, as are many philosophies, but something important would happen for the further evolution of mankind if philosophers would finally confess that—although in all philosophical systems they had certainly produced stuff that was clear and ever clearer, so that anyone could say, “These things are clear!”—yet there may be in clear words an obscure meaning. Something important would take place if the many people who think themselves supremely clever, reckoning what they know to be wisdom (and to some degree rightly so), if they could only place themselves before the world as Strader places himself between Felix Balde and Capesius and learn to say:

I often understood—what you are saying;—
I took it then for wisdom;—but no word
of what you say has meaning for me now.
Capesius and Felix, both—to me—
conceal dark meaning in transparent words.

Just imagine some modern philosopher or one from the past, who has brought together in his own way a plausible clear system of philosophy, and who will take a stand by the side of his philosophy (which is of course in its own way the result of all human thought), saying, “I've usually found this comprehensible. Everything I've written I've taken for wisdom—and yet not a single word in all these phrases can I understand. Even in those I wrote myself, much of it is incomprehensible: these pronouncements seem to hide a dark meaning in clear words.”

Well, one cannot easily imagine such a confession coming from one of our recent or slightly older philosophers, nor from one of the highly clever men of our materialistic, or as it's called in more grandiose style, our monistic age either. And yet it would be a blessing for our present life if people could assume the attitude towards the thoughts and other cultural achievements that Strader assumed towards Felix Balde and Capesius. If only such people might become more and more numerous, and if only anthroposophy could in very truth contribute something directly to this self-knowledge!

• 1. Devachan, devachanic (Sanscrit, deva-divine being) The spirit world. In An Outline of Occult Science Steiner describes it as “The manifestation of the Spirit World in its fullness.”
• 2. Rudolf Steiner, The Souls' Awakening, contained in Four Mystery Dramas, (Vancouver, Steiner Book Centre, 1978).
• 3. Theosophical Society: The German section of the Theosophical Society, headed by Rudolf Steiner until 1912, diverged from the beginning from the rest of the Theosophical Society which was headed by Annie Besant. In 1912, the German section broke away and the Anthroposophical Society was founded.
• 4. The Souls' Awakening, Scene 3.
• 5. Rudolf Steiner, A Road to Self-Knowledge and The Threshold Of The Spiritual World (London, Rudolf Steiner Press, 1975).
• 6. The Souls' Awakening, Scene 13.
• 7. Rudolf Steiner, The Probation of the Soul, contained in Four Mystery Dramas.

We have pointed out that in the Genesis account of the coming into existence of the earth, there is first of all a recapitulation of those earlier stages of evolution which today can only be reached through the clairvoyant investigation which we recognise as the source of our anthroposophical world outlook. If we recall what we have learnt from that source about the conditions of evolution in periods prior to the existence of our earth, we remember that what later became our solar system was contained in a planetary existence which we call Saturn. We must be quite clear that this ancient Saturn consisted solely of interrelationships of warmth. If anyone, from the standpoint of modern physics, raises an objection to my speaking of a cosmic body consisting only of warmth, I must refer him to what I said two days ago—that I could myself raise all the scientific objections against the things said here today or at any other time. But there is really not time in these lectures to touch on what this gullible modern science has to say. Faced with the sources of spiritual scientific investigation, the whole range of modern scientific knowledge seems pretty amateurish. I do intend one day to deal with many of the objections raised. I shall probably begin next spring at the time of my lecture cycle in Prague; and I shall there speak not only of the whole basis of Anthroposophy, but in order to satisfy contemporary minds, I shall speak also of the arguments against it. My Prague cycle will be preceded by two public lectures, of which the first will be called: How can Anthroposophy be refuted? And the second: How can Anthroposophy be substantiated?¹ Later I shall repeat these lectures at other places, and people will then see that we are fully aware of the objections which can be made against what is taught in Anthroposophy. Anthroposophy has a firm foundation, and those who think they are able to refute it do not yet understand it. Time will show in the long run that this is so. As to Saturn's state of warmth, let me once more draw attention to certain observations in my book Occult Science, which may also help to satisfy those who are prompted by their scientific training to object.

Having said this, I feel free to resume my exposition from the anthroposophical standpoint, without further reference to well-meant objections. In Saturn, then, there was an interweaving of varying conditions of warmth. Let us get hold of that quite clearly. The Genesis account describes a repetition within the developing earth of this ancient Saturn state, these relationships of warmth or fire. That is the first thing in the elementary existence which we have to hold fast to. But mark, please, in what sense we speak of warmth or fire in the case of such a lofty existence as that of the Saturn evolution. We shall not get anywhere near it by striking a match or lighting a candle and examining the warmth of physical existence. We have to think of it as much more spiritual—or perhaps better say more psychic. Feel your way into yourself as a warmth-bearing being—and this feeling of your own warmth, experience of your own soul-warmth, will give you a proximate idea of that interweaving warmth in Saturn.

Then we pass on to the Sun, the second phase of the evolution of our planet, and speak of how in elementary existence warmth condensed to the gaseous or aeriform. Thus in the elementary existence of the Sun we have to distinguish between warmth and the gaseous or aery. We have already pointed out that together with the condensation of warmth into air—that is to say, with the descent of the elemental consistency in the direction of density—there is a corresponding ascent towards a more rarefied, more etheric condition, so that if we call “air” the elementary condition next below warmth, we must call the condition next above warmth, light, or light-ether. Thus, if we look at elementary conditions as a whole during the Sun evolution, we shall say that in the Sun there is an interpenetration of warmth, light and air, and all life during that time manifested itself within this condition of warmth, light and air. Now we must once more make clear that if we take into consideration only these elementary manifestations of warmth, light and air, we are only considering the outer aspect—the maya, the illusion—of what is really there. In reality spiritual Beings are announcing themselves externally by means of warmth, light and air. It is somewhat as if we were to stretch out our hand into a heated space and say to ourselves: “Since there is warmth in this space, there must be a Being who disseminates this warmth, and finds thereby means of manifestation.”

When we pass on to the Moon, there again we have warmth as the middle condition, condensing below into air or gas and still further below into water. Light once more makes its appearance above. Then, above the light, we have a finer, more etheric state. I have already said that we may give the name “sound-ether” to what works within substances as an organising principle, causing chemical combinations and chemical analyses; it is something which man can only recognise with his external senses when it is transmitted by the air, but it lies spiritually behind all existence. We might call it “ringing” or tonic ether. Alternatively, because this spiritual sound organises material existence according to number and weight, we might also call it the ether of numbers. Thus we rise from light to sound, but we do not confuse this sound with the external sound which is carried over the air, but recognise it as something which is only perceptible when the clairvoyant sense is in some way awakened. Thus both in the Moon itself and in what works upon it from without we have to see, in elementary form, warmth, air, water, light and sound.

When we reach the fourth condition, and with it the coming into existence of the earth proper, a further stage of condensation and a further stage of rarefaction are added—below, the earthy or solid; above, the life-ether, which is a still finer ether than the sound-ether. So we may describe the elementary existence of the earth in this way. Warmth is again the middle state; as denser conditions we have air, water, solid; as rarer conditions we have light, sound and life ethers. In order to be quite sure that nothing is left vague in this exposition, I will once more state explicitly that what I describe as “earth” or “solid” must not be confused with what modern science calls earth. What is described here is something which is not directly visible around us. Of course, what we tread upon when we tread the earth's soil is earth, in so far as it is solid; but so are gold, silver, copper and tin, earth. Everything of a solid material nature is earth in the sense of occultism. The modern physicist will of course say that there is nothing in this distinction—that he himself differentiates between our various elements, but that he has no knowledge of any primeval substance lying behind those elements. It is only when the clairvoyant eye penetrates the external elements—some seventy of them—and seeks the basis of solidity, when he looks for the forces which organise matter into the solid state, it is only then that he discovers the forces which construct, which build, which combine solid, liquid and gaseous. That is what we are referring to here, and that too is what Genesis is referring to. We shall, then, expect to find that according to Genesis the three earlier conditions are in some way recapitulated in earth existence, but that the fourth state appears as something new.

Let us check the account by the same method that we used in earlier lectures. In the coming into existence of our earth we should expect to find a repetition of the Saturn state. In other words we should expect to find the Saturn warmth working as an expression of a soul-spiritual. And this is what we do find, if we understand the account rightly. I have told you that the words which are usually translated And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters really mean that the soul-spiritual of the Elohim expanded and that a warmth element—the kind of warmth we conceive to be rayed down from the hen to the egg in the act of brooding—penetrated the existing elementary condition. In saying “The spirit of the Elohim radiates as a brooding warmth through the elementary existence, or the waters,” you indicate the recapitulation of the Saturn warmth.

The next condition has to be one which represents a recapitulation of the Sun evolution. For the time being let us ignore the condensation process which goes on from warmth to air, and let us turn our attention to the process of rarefaction, to the element of light. Let us take the fact that during the solar period light penetrates into our cosmic space, and then the recapitulation of the ancient Sun evolution will be the permeation by light of our developing earth. That is announced in the mighty words: And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.

The third recapitulation, considered with reference to the finer elementary states, must consist in the fact that the organising, tonic or sound-ether permeates our nascent earth. Let us then ask ourselves whether there is in fact any indication of such a recapitulation of the Moon evolution in the Genesis account. What should we expect to find? We should expect the sound-ether to set to work to organise the elementary substance, rather as the fine powder spread on a plate is organised when we pass across the plate the bow of a violin, and the sound-forms of Chladni appear. There would have to be a recapitulation which would be recorded somewhat like this: “The tonic or sound-ether set to work to organise matter in a certain way.” But what is actually reported about the moment of creation which followed upon the coming into existence of light? We are told that something was stimulated by the Elohim in the material elementary mass which caused it to radiate in the upward direction and to gather itself together, to contract, in the downward direction, as I described to you yesterday. A force enters into the elementary matter and organises it, just as sound takes hold of the powder and brings about the Chladni figures. Just as the powder is organised, so the elementary mass is organised through the radiation upward of part of it, and the concentration downward of the other part. The word rakia, which is used to indicate what the Elohim introduced into the elementary matter, is difficult to translate, and the usual translations are inadequate to render it correctly. Even when one takes into account all that can today be contributed towards its elucidation, including what philology has to say, one is bound to confess that neither the translation “firmament” nor any of its variants takes us very far. For there is an element of activity, of stimulation in this word. And a more precise philology would find that there is contained in this word what I have just indicated—that the Elohim stimulated something in the elementary matter which may be compared with what is stimulated in the powder ofthe Chladni sound-figures when sound sets to work to organise it. As the powder is organised in the case of the Chladni sound-figures, so the elementary mass is disposed upward and downward on the second “day” of creation. Thus, in the Genesis account, following the intervention of the light-ether, we see that of the sound-ether, and the second “day” of creation gives us, quite in accordance with the facts, what we must understand as a recapitulation of the Moon evolution.

You will soon see that these recapitulations cannot come about in an entirely straightforward manner, but that they overlap one another. And the apparent contradiction between today's exposition and that of yesterday will soon be explained. The recapitulation takes place in such a way that first there happens what I am now describing, and then there is a more comprehensive recapitulation, such as I described yesterday.

After the moment when the sound-ether has so disposed the substances that some radiate upward, and others accumulate below, we should expect to find that something sets to work as a still finer condition, one which we must call the earth element proper—what we have called the life-ether. After the second “day” of creation something should happen which would indicate to us that life-ether was streaming into the elementary mass of our earth, just as previously light and organising sound had poured in. There should be some phrase in Genesis to indicate that life-ether thrilled through the mass and caused life to stir, caused life to unfold. Look at the Genesis account of the third “day” of creation. It tells us how the earth causes green things to grow, the living element of tree and herb—as I said yesterday, in the mode of species—after his kind. There we have a vivid description of the instreaming of the life-ether, which evokes everything that is said to have come into being on the third day.

Thus in Genesis we find all that clairvoyant investigation can bring to light—which is what we should expect, if it really derives from occult knowledge. It is all there if we know how to interpret it. It is a wonderful experience to find confirmed in Genesis what we have first discovered by independent investigation. I can assure you that in the description I gave in my Occult Science of the coming into existence of the earth as a recapitulation of the Saturn, Sun and Moon evolutions, I quite deliberately and scrupulously ignored anything which could have been learnt from Genesis. I only described what I was able to discover quite independently of that ancient record. But if you then compare these independent findings with the Genesis account, you see that the latter says just what our independent investigation has enabled us to say. That is the remarkable consonance to which I called attention yesterday, when what we can say of our own accord comes sounding back to us from the spiritual faculties of seers who speak to us across thousands of years.

Thus, in the first three “days” of creation, we see as regards the finer elements of the earth's nature a successive activity of warmth, light, sound-ether and life-ether, and in what these activities stimulate and enliven we see at the same time the development of stages of densification—from warmth to air, then to water and finally to solid, to the earth element, in the way I have described. The processes of densification and of rarefaction interpenetrate one another and together they give us a unified picture of the coming into existence of our earth. Whether we speak of the denser states—air, water, earth—or of the more rarefied states—light-ether, sound-ether, life-ether—we are concerned with manifestations, with the outer garments, as it were, of soul-spiritual Beings. Of these soul-spiritual Beings the first to appear before the mind's eye in the Genesis account are the Elohim, and the question arises: what kind of Beings are the Elohim? So that we may know where we are, we must be able to give them their proper place in the order of the hierarchies. You will no doubt remember, from the various lectures I have given in the course of years, or from what you have read in my Occult Science, that in the hierarchical order going from above downward, we distinguish, first, a trinity which we call the Seraphim, Cherubim and Thrones. You know that then we come to a second hierarchy which we call the Kyriotetes or Dominions,² the Dynameis or Mights, and the Exusiai or Powers, or Revelations; when we come to the lowest trinity, we usually make use of Christian designations, and speak of Archai, or Principalities, or Spirits of Personality; of Archangeloi or Archangels; of Angeloi or Angels. Those in this lowest group are the spiritual Beings who stand nearest to man. Only then do we come to man himself, as the tenth member within the hierarchical order. Now the question is, where within this order do the Elohim belong?

We find them in the second of these trinities, and identify them with those Beings whom we call Exusiai or Powers, or Spirits of Form. We know from what we have been taught for years that during the Saturn evolution the Archai, the Spirits of Personality, were at the human stage, the stage at which we ourselves now stand. During the Sun evolution the Archangeloi or Archangels had their human stage; and during earth existence it is man who is at this stage. One grade above the Spirits of Personality we have the Spirits of Form, the Exusiai, who are also called Elohim. Thus the Elohim are lofty, sublime spiritual Beings who had advanced beyond the human stage before the time of Saturn, when our planetary existence began. We get an idea of the sublimity of these Beings if we bring home to ourselves that in the order of the hierarchies they stand four stages above the human. The spirituality which was weaving in this realm—which was, so to say, practising cosmic meditation, cosmic musing—and out of this cosmic meditation brought about our earth existence, was four stages above the human stage. Spiritual Beings at this stage can through their meditation work creatively—they are not, as men are, limited to the creation of thought forms. Because the meditative activity of the Elohim is four stages higher than human thinking, it is not merely an organising, a creative activity within the sphere of thought, but it forms and creates existence.

Having said this to begin with, the question now arises, what of the other hierarchies? First we should like to know what part was played in the Genesis account by the Beings whom we have called the Archai, or the Spirits of Personality. They constitute the next lower rank in the hierarchies. Let us once more remind ourselves that in the Elohim we have highly exalted Beings, Beings who at the time of the Saturn evolution had already risen above the human stage. They were active throughout the whole of the Saturn, Sun and Moon evolutions, creating and organising, and they are at work too in the earth evolution. Should we not expect to find the Spirits of Personality, the hierarchy next below that of the Elohim, mentioned in the Genesis account? Since we know what lofty, sublime Beings the Elohim are, we should expect to find the Principalities, or Spirits of Personality, at work in their service. Is there any indication in Genesis that after the Elohim had unfolded the main creative activity they made use of the Archai or Principalities as their servants in lesser activities? We know that the chief, the most comprehensive activity is undertaken by the Elohim themselves; but after they had laid down the main lines, so to say, after they had exercised their great creative forces, did they not appoint other Beings such as the Archai to represent them on the spot?

To find the answer to this question we must first learn to understand Genesis in the right way. There is a passage in the Genesis account which has been a veritable stumbling-block to all the commentators, because for centuries they have completely ignored what occult investigation has had to say about the real meaning of the words with which our Bible opens. If you are at all familiar with modern Biblical criticism, you will know what difficulty this point has caused the commentators. There is a sentence in Genesis which is rendered And God divided the light from the darkness, and it is then made to appear that light and darkness alternated. I shall come back again to a closer examination of the words. For the time being I will make use of a translation into modern speech—it is not correct, and I am only using it provisionally. At a certain point it says: And the evening and the morning were the first day. And further: And God called the light Day. This is a real stumbling-block for the world of letters! What then is a “day” of creation? The naive intellect regards a day as lasting twenty-four hours, as something which alternates between light and darkness, as does our day, during which we wake and sleep. Now of course you all know how much scorn has been heaped upon this naive idea of the creation of the world in seven such days. You perhaps also know how much labour—how much fruitless labour-has been applied to the task of identifying the seven days of creation with longer or shorter periods—geological epochs and so on—so as to make a “day” of creation signify some longer period of time.

The first difficulty arises of course when one comes to the fourth “day,” when Genesis first speaks of the setting up of sun and moon as directing time. Now every child today knows that the regulation of our twenty-four-hour day depends upon the relationship of the earth to the sun. But since the sun was not there until the fourth “day,” we cannot speak of a twenty-four-hour day earlier than that. Thus anyone who tries to adhere to the naive belief that the day of the creation story is a day of twenty-four hours has to do violence to the Genesis account itself. There may of course be such people; but it must be objected to them that in insisting that Genesis refers to days such as ours they are certainly not supported by revelation. As to the vagaries of those who try to find a way out by giving a geological meaning to these “days” of creation, they are really not worth bothering about. For in the whole range of the literature of the subject there is not the slightest evidence that the word yom (יוֹם) signifies anything resembling a geological epoch.

What then is the meaning of the word yom, which is usually translated as “day”? Only those can form a judgment about this who are able to transport themselves in feeling, in attitude of soul, into ancient methods of naming things. The process of nomenclature in ancient times needed quite a different kind of feeling from what we have today. To avoid too great a shock, let us take it step by step. Let me first draw your attention to a doctrine held by the Gnostics. They spoke of spiritual powers who played a part in our existence, who entered successively into the development of our existence, and these powers, these Beings, they called Aeons. By these Aeons they do not mean periods of time, but Beings. They mean that a first Aeon acts, and, having executed the work of which he is capable, is succeeded by a second Aeon, and after the second has exhausted his capacities, a third takes over, and so on. When the Gnostics spoke of Aeons, they meant Beings guiding development in succession, one taking over from another. It was only very much later that the purely abstract concept of time was associated with the word “Aeon.” Aeon is a Being, a living entity. And just as “Aeon” expresses “living entity,” so too does the Hebrew word yom. It has nothing to do with a merely abstract designation of time, but conveys the quality of being. Yom is a Being. And when one is dealing with seven such yamim following one another, one is dealing with seven consecutive Beings or groups of Beings.

We find the same thing elsewhere concealed in a verbal resemblance. In the Aryan languages there is a connection between deus and dies—god and day. There is an essential inner relationship between this pair of words; in earlier times the connection between “day” and a Being was clearly felt, and when one spoke of weekdays, as we speak of Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and so on, one did not mean simply periods of time, but the groups of Beings working in Sun, Moon, Mars and so on. Let us then understand the word yom, which is usually rendered “day,” to mean a spiritual Being; then you have the hierarchical Beings one stage lower than the Elohim, Beings whom the Elohim used as subordinate spirits. After the Elohim through their higher organising powers had brought light into existence, they then appointed to his post Yom, the first of the Time-Spirits, or the Archai. Thus the spiritual Beings whom we call Spirits of Personality, or Principalities, are the same as those called in Genesis, Time-Intervals, Days, Yamin. They are the servants of the Elohim. They carry out what the Elohim direct from their higher standpoint. Those of you who heard the lectures which I gave recently in Christiania³ will remember that there too I called the Archai Time-Spirits, and described how they still work as Time-Spirits today. They were the servants of the Elohim. They were appointed by the Elohim to carry out the plans for which they themselves had laid down the main lines. In this way everything fits together into one great system, even for our understanding. But of course it is only when you have followed up what I am saying for years that you will acquire a real grasp of how everything without exception falls into place.

The exalted Beings of the Elohim entered into this interweaving of the several ethers, and of air, water and earth, and appointed Beings below them in rank as their servants. They gave these Beings their orders, so to say. In the moment when the Elohim had poured light into existence, they passed over to these Beings the task of carrying out in detail what had been set going. Thus we may say that after the Elohim had created the light, they appointed the first Time-Spirit to represent them. It is this Spirit who is hidden behind the customary phrase “the first day.” We shall only understand the still deeper meaning of this first day when we also understand what lies behind the verse: And the evening and the morning were the first day. The first of the Time-Spirits entered into activity, and with this activity was associated what can be described as an alternation of ereb (עֶרֶב) and boker (בֹּקֶר). Ereb is not the same thing as evening, and boker is not the same thing as morning. An appropriate translation would be: “There was ereb, confusion; and there followed boker, organisation.” There was a state of disorder, and it was followed by a state of order, of harmony, brought about by the work of the first of the Time-Spirits.

• 1. These lectures were in fact given in Prague in March 1911, and repeated in Stuttgart in November of the same year, and again in Munich and Berlin in 1912. Only the Berlin lectures have been published. (Ergebnisse der Geistesforschung, Basle, 1941.) They have not been translated.
• 2. Colos. 1:16 and Eph 1:21.
  
  The “Dynameis” of Dionysius the Areopagite is sometimes translated “Virtues.” Cf. Milton's Paradise Lost.
• 3. The Mission of Folk-Souls See footnote, p. 71.

We have pointed out that in the Genesis account of the coming into existence of the earth, there is first of all a recapitulation of those earlier stages of evolution which today can only be reached through the clairvoyant investigation which we recognise as the source of our anthroposophical world outlook. If we recall what we have learnt from that source about the conditions of evolution in periods prior to the existence of our earth, we remember that what later became our solar system was contained in a planetary existence which we call Saturn. We must be quite clear that this ancient Saturn consisted solely of interrelationships of warmth. If anyone, from the standpoint of modern physics, raises an objection to my speaking ofa cosmic body consisting only of warmth, I must refer him to what I said two days ago—that I could myself raise all the scientific objections against the things said here today or at any other time. But there is really not time in these lectures to touch on what this gullible modern science has to say. Faced with the sources of spiritual scientific investigation, the whole range of modern scientific knowledge seems pretty amateurish. I do intend one day to deal with many of the objections raised. I shall probably begin next spring at the time of my lecture cycle in Prague; and I shall there speak not only of the whole basis of Anthroposophy, but in order to satisfy contemporary minds, I shall speak also of the arguments against it. My Prague cycle will be preceded by two public lectures, of which the first will be called: How can Anthroposophy be refuted? And the second: How can Anthroposophy be substantiated?¹ Later I shall repeat these lectures at other places, and people will then see that we are fully aware of the objections which can be made against what is taught in Anthroposophy. Anthroposophy has a firm foundation, and those who think they are able to refute it do not yet understand it. Time will show in the long run that this is so. As to Saturn's state of warmth, let me once more draw attention to certain observations in my book Occult Science, which may also help to satisfy those who are prompted by their scientific training to object.

Having said this, I feel free to resume my exposition from the anthroposophical standpoint, without further reference to well-meant objections. In Saturn, then, there was an interweaving of varying conditions of warmth. Let us get hold of that quite clearly. The Genesis account describes a repetition within the developing earth of this ancient Saturn state, these relationships of warmth or fire. That is the first thing in the elementary existence which we have to hold fast to. But mark, please, in what sense we speak of warmth or fire in the case of such a lofty existence as that of the Saturn evolution. We shall not get anywhere near it by striking a match or lighting a candle and examining the warmth of physical existence. We have to think of it as much more spiritual—or perhaps better say more psychic. Feel your way into yourself as a warmth-bearing being—and this feeling of your own warmth, experience of your own soul-warmth, will give you a proximate idea of that interweaving warmth in Saturn.

Then we pass on to the Sun, the second phase of the evolution of our planet, and speak of how in elementary existence warmth condensed to the gaseous or aeriform. Thus in the elementary existence of the Sun we have to distinguish between warmth and the gaseous or aery. We have already pointed out that together with the condensation of warmth into air—that is to say, with the descent of the elemental consistency in the direction of density—there is a corresponding ascent towards a more rarefied, more etheric condition, so that if we call “air” the elementary condition next below warmth, we must call the condition next above warmth, light, or light-ether. Thus, if we look at elementary conditions as a whole during the Sun evolution, we shall say that in the Sun there is an interpenetration of warmth, light and air, and all life during that time manifested itself within this condition of warmth, light and air. Now we must once more make clear that if we take into consideration only these elementary manifestations of warmth, light and air, we are only considering the outer aspect—the maya, the illusion—of what is really there. In reality spiritual Beings are announcing themselves externally by means of warmth, light and air. It is somewhat as if we were to stretch out our hand into a heated space and say to ourselves: “Since there is warmth in this space, there must be a Being who disseminates this warmth, and finds thereby means of manifestation.”

When we pass on to the Moon, there again we have warmth as the middle condition, condensing below into air or gas and still further below into water. Light once more makes its appearance above. Then, above the light, we have a finer, more etheric state. I have already said that we may give the name “sound-ether” to what works within substances as an organising principle, causing chemical combinations and chemical analyses; it is something which man can only recognise with his external senses when it is transmitted by the air, but it lies spiritually behind all existence. We might call it “ringing” or tonic ether. Alternatively, because this spiritual sound organises material existence according to number and weight, we might also call it the ether of numbers. Thus we rise from light to sound, but we do not confuse this sound with the external sound which is carried over the air, but recognise it as something which is only perceptible when the clairvoyant sense is in some way awakened. Thus both in the Moon itself and in what works upon it from without we have to see, in elementary form, warmth, air, water, light and sound.
When we reach the fourth condition, and with it the coming into existence of the earth proper, a further stage of condensation and a further stage of rarefaction are added—below, the earthy or solid; above, the life-ether, which is a still finer ether than the sound-ether. So we may describe the elementary existence of the earth in this way. Warmth is again the middle state; as denser conditions we have air, water, solid; as rarer conditions we have light, sound and life ethers. In order to be quite sure that nothing is left vague in this exposition, I will once more state explicitly that what I describe as “earth” or “solid” must not be confused with what modern science calls earth. What is described here is something which is not directly visible around us. Of course, what we tread upon when we tread the earth's soil is earth, in so far as it is solid; but so are gold, silver, copper and tin, earth. Everything of a solid material nature is earth in the sense of occultism. The modern physicist will of course say that there is nothing in this distinction—that he himself differentiates between our various elements, but that he has no knowledge of any primeval substance lying behind those elements. It is only when the clairvoyant eye penetrates the external elements—some severity of them—and seeks the basis of solidity, when he looks for the forces which organise matter into the solid state, it is only then that he discovers the forces which construct, which build, which combine solid, liquid and gaseous. That is what we are referring to here, and that too is what Genesis is referring to. We shall, then, expect to fmd that according to Genesis the three earlier conditions are in some way recapitulated in earth existence, but that the fourth state appears as something new.

Let us check the account by the same method that we used in earlier lectures. In the coming into existence of our earth we should expect to find a repetition of the Saturn state. In other words we should expect to fmd the Saturn warmth working as an expression of a soul-spiritual. And this is what we do fmd, if we understand the account rightly. I have told you that the words which are usually translated And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters really mean that the soul-spiritual of the Elohim expanded and that a warmth element—the kind of warmth we conceive to be rayed down from the hen to the egg in the act of brooding—penetrated the existing elementary condition. In saying “The spirit of the Elohim radiates as a brooding warmth through the elementary existence, or the waters,” you indicate the recapitulation of the Saturn warmth.

The next condition has to be one which represents a recapitulation of the Sun evolution. For the time being let us ignore the condensation process which goes on from warmth to air, and let us turn our attention to the process of rarefaction, to the element of light. Let us take the fact that during the solar period light penetrates into our cosmic space, and then the recapitulation of the ancient Sun evolution will be the permeation by light of our developing earth. That is announced in the mighty words: And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.

The third recapitulation, considered with reference to the finer elementary states, must consist in the fact that the organising, tonic or sound-ether permeates our nascent earth. Let us then ask ourselves whether there is in fact any indication of such a recapitulation of the Moon evolution in the Genesis account. What should we expect to find? We should expect the sound-ether to set to work to organise the elementary substance, rather as the fine powder spread on a plate is organised when we pass across the plate the bow of a violin, and the sound-forms of Chladni appear. There would have to be a recapitulation which would be recorded somewhat like this: “The tonic or sound-ether set to work to organise matter in a certain way.” But what is actually reported about the moment of creation which followed upon the coming into existence of light? We are told that something was stimulated by the Elohim in the material elementary mass which caused it to radiate in the upward direction and to gather itself together, to contract, in the downward direction, as I described to you yesterday. A force enters into the elementary matter and organises it, just as sound takes hold of the powder and brings about the Chladni figures. Just as the powder is organised, so the elementary mass is organised through the radiation upward of part of it, and the concentration downward of the other part. The word rakia, which is used to indicate what the Elohim introduced into the elementary matter, is difficult to translate, and the usual translations are inadequate to render it correctly. Even when one takes into account all that can today be contributed towards its elucidation, including what philology has to say, one is bound to confess that neither the translation “firmament” nor any of its variants takes us very far. For there is an element of activity, of stimulation in this word. And a more precise philology would fmd that there is contained in this word what I have just indicated—that the Elohim stimulated something in the elementary matter which may be compared with what is stimulated in the powder ofthe Chladni sound-figures when sound sets to work to organise it. As the powder is organised in the case of the Chladni sound-figures, so the elementary mass is disposed upward and downward on the second “day” of creation. Thus, in the Genesis account, following the intervention of the light-ether, we see that of the sound-ether, and the second “day” of creation gives us, quite in accordance with the facts, what we must understand as a recapitulation of the Moon evolution.

You will soon see that these recapitulations cannot come about in an entirely straightforward manner, but that they overlap one another. And the apparent contradiction between today's exposition and that of yesterday will soon be explained. The recapitulation takes place in such a way that first there happens what I am now describing, and then there is a more comprehensive recapitulation, such as I described yesterday.

After the moment when the sound-ether has so disposed the substances that some radiate upward, and others accumulate below, we should expect to fmd that something sets to work as a still finer condition, one which we must call the earth element proper—what we have called the life-ether. After the second “day” of creation something should happen which would indicate to us that life-ether was streaming into the elementary mass of our earth, just as previously light and organising sound had poured in. There should be some phrase in Genesis to indicate that life-ether thrilled through the mass and caused life to stir, caused life to unfold. Look at the Genesis account of the third “day” of creation. It tells us how the earth causes green things to grow, the living element of tree and herb—as I said yesterday, in the mode of species—after his kind. There we have a vivid description of the instreaming of the life-ether, which evokes everything that is said to have come into being on the third
day.

Thus in Genesis we find all that clairvoyant investigation can bring to light—which is what we should expect, if it really derives from occult knowledge. It is all there if we know how to interpret it. It is a wonderful experience to find confirmed in Genesis what we have first discovered by independent investigation. I can assure you that in the description I gave in my Occult Science of the coming into existence of the earth as a recapitulation of the Saturn, Sun and Moon evolutions, I quite deliberately and scrupulously ignored anything which could have been learnt from Genesis. I only described what I was able to discover quite independently of that ancient record. But if you then compare these independent findings with the Genesis account, you see that the latter says just what our independent investigation has enabled us to say. That is the remarkable consonance to which I called attention yesterday, when what we can say of our own accord comes sounding back to us from the spiritual faculties of seers who speak to us across thousands of years.

Thus, in the first three “days” of creation, we see as regards the finer elements of the earth's nature a successive activity of warmth, light, sound-ether and life-ether, and in what these activities stimulate and enliven we see at the same time the development of stages of densification—from warmth to air, then to water and finally to solid, to the earth element, in the way I have described. The processes of densification and of rarefaction interpenetrate one another and together they give us a unified picture of the coming into existence of our earth. Whether we speak of the denser states—air, water, earth—or of the more rarefied states—light-ether, sound-ether, life-ether—we are concerned with manifestations, with the outer garments, as it were, of soul-spiritual Beings. Of these soul-spiritual Beings the first to appear before the mind's eye in the Genesis account are the Elohim, and the question arises: what kind of Beings are the Elohim? So that we may know where we are, we must be able to give them their proper place in the order of the hierarchies. You will no doubt remember, from the various lectures I have given in the course of years, or from what you have read in my Occult Science, that in the hierarchical order going from above downward, we distinguish, first, a trinity which we call the Seraphim, Cherubim and Thrones. You know that then we come to a second hierarchy which we call the Kyriotetes or Dominions,² the Dynameis or Mights, and the Exusiai or Powers, or Revelations; when we come to the lowest trinity, we usually make use of Christian designations, and speak of Archai, or Principalities, or Spirits of Personality; of Archangeloi or Archangels; of Angeloi or Angels. Those in this lowest group are the spiritual Beings who stand nearest to man. Only then do we come to man himself, as the tenth member within the hierarchical order. Now the question is, where within this order do the Elohim belong?

We find them in the second of these trinities, and identify them with those Beings whom we call Exusiai or Powers, or Spirits of Form. We know from what we have been taught for years that during the Saturn evolution the Archai, the Spirits of Personality, were at the human stage, the stage at which we ourselves now stand. During the Sun evolution the Archangeloi or Archangels had their human stage; and during earth existence it is man who is at this stage. One grade above the Spirits of Personality we have the Spirits of Form, the Exusiai, who are also called Elohim. Thus the Elohim are lofty, sublime spiritual Beings who had advanced beyond the human stage before the time of Saturn, when our planetary existence began. We get an idea of the sublimity of these Beings if we bring home to ourselves that in the order of the hierarchies they stand four stages above the human. The spirituality which was weaving in this realm—which was, so to say, practising cosmic meditation, cosmic musing—and out of this cosmic meditation brought about our earth existence, was four stages above the human stage. Spiritual Beings at this stage can through their meditation work creatively—they are not, as men are, limited to the creation of thought forms. Because the meditative activity of the Elohim is four stages higher than human thinking, it is not merely an organising, a creative activity within the sphere of thought, but it forms and creates existence.

Having said this to begin with, the question now arises, what of the other hierarchies? First we should like to know what part was played in the Genesis account by the Beings whom we have called the Archai, or the Spirits of Personality. They constitute the next lower rank in the hierarchies. Let us once more remind ourselves that in the Elohim we have highly exalted Beings, Beings who at the time of the Saturn evolution had already risen above the human stage. They were active throughout the whole of the Saturn, Sun and Moon evolutions, creating and organising, and they are at work too in the earth evolution. Should we not expect to find the Spirits of Personality, the hierarchy next below that of the Elohim, mentioned in the Genesis account? Since we know what lofty, sublime Beings the Elohim are, we should expect to find the Principalities, or Spirits of Personality, at work in their service. Is there any indication in Genesis that after the Elohim had unfolded the main creative activity they made use of the Archai or Principalities as their servants in lesser activities? We know that the chief, the most comprehensive activity is undertaken by the Elohim themselves; but after they had laid down the main lines, so to say, after they had exercised their great creative forces, did they not appoint other Beings such as the Archai to represent them on the spot?

To find the answer to this question we must first learn to understand Genesis in the right way. There is a passage in the Genesis account which has been a veritable stumbling-block to all the commentators, because for centuries they have completely ignored what occult investigation has had to say about the real meaning of the words with which our Bible opens. If you are at all familiar with modern Biblical criticism, you will know what difficulty this point has caused the commentators. There is a sentence in Genesis which is rendered And God divided the light from the darkness, and it is then made to appear that light and darkness alternated. I shall come back again to a closer examination of the words. For the time being I will make use of a translation into modern speech—it is not correct, and I am only using it provisionally. At a certain point it says: And the evening and the morning were the first day. And further: And God called the light Day. This is a real stumbling-block for the world of letters! What then is a “day” of creation? The naive intellect regards a day as lasting twenty-four hours, as something which alternates between light and darkness, as does our day, during which we wake and sleep. Now of course you all know how much scorn has been heaped upon this naive idea of the creation of the world in seven such days. You perhaps also know how much labour—how much fruitless labour-has been applied to the task of identifying the seven days of creation with longer or shorter periods—geological epochs and so on—so as to make a “day” of creation signify some longer period of time.

The first difficulty arises of course when one comes to the fourth “day,” when Genesis first speaks of the setting up of sun and moon as directing time. Now every child today knows that the regulation of our twenty-four-hour day depends upon the relationship of the earth to the sun. But since the sun was not there until the fourth “day,” we cannot speak of a twenty-four-hour day earlier than that. Thus anyone who tries to adhere to the naive belief that the day of the creation story is a day of twenty-four hours has to do violence to the Genesis account itself. There may of course be such people; but it must be objected to them that in insisting that Genesis refers to days such as ours they are certainly not supported by revelation. As to the vagaries of those who try to find a way out by giving a geological meaning to these “days” of creation, they are really not worth bothering about. For in the whole range of the literature of the subject there is not the slightest evidence that the word yom³ signifies anything resembling a geological epoch.

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What then is the meaning of the word yom, which is usually translated as “day”? Only those can form a judgment about this who are able to transport themselves in feeling, in attitude of soul, into ancient methods of naming things. The process of nomenclature in ancient times needed quite a different kind of feeling from what we have today. To avoid too great a shock, let us take it step by step. Let me first draw your attention to a doctrine held by the Gnostics. They spoke of spiritual powers who played a part in our existence, who entered successively into the development of our existence, and these powers, these Beings, they called Aeons. By these Aeons they do not mean periods of time, but Beings. They mean that a first Aeon acts, and, having executed the work of which he is capable, is succeeded by a second Aeon, and after the second has exhausted his capacities, a third takes over, and so on. When the Gnostics spoke of Aeons, they meant Beings guiding development in succession, one taking over from another. It was only very much later that the purely abstract concept of time was associated with the word “Aeon.” Aeon is a Being, a living entity. And just as “Aeon” expresses “living entity,” so too does the Hebrew word yom. It has nothing to do with a merely abstract designation of time, but conveys the quality of being. Yom is a Being. And when one is dealing with seven such yamim following one another, one is dealing with seven consecutive Beings or groups of Beings.

We find the same thing elsewhere concealed in a verbal resemblance. In the Aryan languages there is a connection between deus and dies—god and day. There is an essential inner relationship between this pair of words; in earlier times the connection between “day” and a Being was clearly felt, and when one spoke of weekdays, as we speak of Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and so on, one did not mean simply periods of time, but the groups of Beings working in Sun, Moon, Mars and so on. Let us then understand the word yom, which is usually rendered “day,” to mean a spiritual Being; then you have the hierarchical Beings one stage lower than the Elohim, Beings whom the Elohim used as subordinate spirits. After the Elohim through their higher organising powers had brought light into existence, they then appointed to his post Yom, the first of the Time-Spirits, or the Archai. Thus the spiritual Beings whom we call Spirits of Personality, or Principalities, are the same as those called in Genesis, Time-Intervals, Days, Yamin. They are the servants of the Elohim. They carry out what the Elohim direct from their higher standpoint. Those of you who heard the lectures which I gave recently in Christiania⁴ will remember that there too I called the Archai Time-Spirits, and described how they still work as Time-Spirits today. They were the servants of the Elohim. They were appointed by the Elohim to carry out the plans for which they themselves had laid down the main lines. In this way everything fits together into one great system, even for our understanding. But of course it is only when you have followed up what I am saying for years that you will acquire a real grasp of how everything without exception falls into place.

The exalted Beings of the Elohim entered into this interweaving of the several ethers, and of air, water and earth, and appointed Beings below them in rank as their servants. They gave these Beings their orders, so to say. In the moment when the Elohim had poured light into existence, they passed over to these Beings the task of carrying out in detail what had been set going. Thus we may say that after the Elohim had created the light, they appointed the first Time-Spirit to represent them. It is this Spirit who is hidden behind the customary phrase “the first day.” We shall only understand the still deeper meaning of this first day when we also understand what lies behind the verse: And the evening and the morning were the first day. The first of the Time-Spirits entered into activity, and with this activity was associated what can be described as an alternation of ereb⁵ and boker.⁶ Ereb is not the same thing as evening, and boker is not the same thing as morning. An appropriate translation would be: “There was ereb, confusion; and there followed boker, organisation.” There was a state of disorder, and it was followed by a state of order, of harmony, brought about by the work of the first of the Time-Spirits.⁷

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• 1. These lectures were in fact given in Prague in March 1911, and repeated in Stuttgart in November of the same year, and again in Munich and Berlin in 1912. Only the Berlin lectures have been published. (Ergebnisse der Geistesforschung, Basle, 1941.) They have not been translated.
• 2. Wherever possible, the designations for the hierarchies used in this translation are those of the New Testament Authorised Version (Colos. 1:16 and Eph. 1:21). The “Dynameis” of Dionysius the Areopagite is sometimes translated “Virtues.” Cf. Milton's Paradise Lost.
• 3. See Figure 6, below.
• 4. “The Mission of Folk-Souls” See footnote, p. 71.
• 5. See Figure 7, below.
• 6. See Figure 8, below.
• 7. See Figure 9, below.