The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Spengler speaks of the sleeping plant-life and uses expressions such as these: “A plant has Being without Waking-being. In sleep all beings become plants: the tension with the environment is extinguished, the rhythm of life goes on. A plant knows only the relation to the When and Why. The pressing of the first green tips out of the winter-earth, the swelling of the buds, the whole mighty process of blossoming, giving out aroma, shining, ripening: all this is the wish for the fulfilling of a destiny and a continuous yearning question after the When.”

In contrast to this is the awakeness of animals and men. Awakeness develops an inner life. But this is torn away from cosmic being. It seems as though, in the experiences of awakeness, nothing remains of the urging, driving cosmic forces which become destiny in the plant-world. This feeling of being torn away is fully worked out in Spengler's views.

In the life of men, the plant-like element continues to work. It rules in the subconscious activities which appear as the results of the mysterious forces of the “blood.” Out of the “blood” arises what lives as the element of destiny in mankind. In contrast to this, what is formed by waking consciousness appears as a chance addition to the true Being. Spengler finds sharply etched words to describe the insignificance of waking consciousness in relation to the really creative plant-like forces in human nature: “Thinking gives itself much too high a rank in life because it does not notice or recognize other methods of apprehension and thereby loses its unprejudiced view. In truth all professional thinkers—and in all cultures almost these alone are vocal—have, as. a matter of course, held cold abstract reflection to be the activity by which men attain to ‘last things’.” Rather than being profound, it is a fairly easily achieved insight which Spengler expresses with the words: “But though man is a thinking being he is far from a being whose whole life consists in thinking.” This is as true as “that two and two are four.” But for any truth it is important just how one places it into life-connections. And Spengler never once inserts thinking into life: he places it beside life. He does this because he grasps it only in the form in which it appears in modern scientific research. There it is abstract thinking. In this form it is reflection on life, not a force of life itself. Of this thinking one may say that what works formatively in life comes out of the sleeping plant-element in man; it is not the result of waking abstraction. It is true that “The real life, history, knows only facts. Life-experience and human knowledge address themselves only to facts. The acting, willing, struggling man, who daily asserts himself against the facts and makes them useful to himself or succumbs to them, looks down on mere truths as something insignificant.”

But this abstract thinking is only a phase in the development of human life. It was preceded by a picture-thinking, which was bound up with its objects and pulsed in the deeds of men. Admittedly this thinking works in a dreamlike way in conscious human life, but it is the creator of all the early stages in the various cultures. And if one says that what appears as the deeds of men in such cultures is a result of the “blood” and not of thinking, then one abandons all hope of grasping the driving impulses of history and plunges into a clouded materialistic mysticism. For any mysticism which explains the occurrence of historical events through this or that quality of soul or spirit is clear in comparison to the mysticism of the “blood.”

If we take up such a mysticism, we cut off the possibility of rightly evaluating that period of time in which human evolution progressed from the earlier pictorial forms of thinking to the abstract method. This is not, in itself, a force which drives us to action. While this worked toward the formation of scientific research, men were subject, in their actions, to the after-effects of the old impulses springing from picture-thinking. It is significant that in occidental culture during recent centuries abstract thinking continually grows while action remains under the influence of the earlier impulses. These take on more complicated forms but produce nothing essentially new. Modern men travel on railroads in which abstract thoughts are realized, but they do so out of will-impulses which were working already before railroads existed.

But this abstract thinking is only a transitionary stage of the thinking capacity. If we have experienced it in its full purity, if we have absorbed in a full human way its coldness and impotence, but also its transparency, then we shall not be able to rest content with it. It is a dead thinking, but it can be awakened to life. It has lost the picture-quality which it had as a dream-experience, but it can attain this again in the light of an intenser consciousness. From the dream-like picture, through fully conscious abstraction, to an equally fully conscious imagination: this is the evolutionary course of human thinking. The ascent to this conscious imagination stands before the men of the Occident as the task of the future. Goethe gave a start toward it when, for the understanding of the forming of plants, he demanded the idea-picture of the archetypal plant. And this imaginative thinking can engender impulses to action.

One who denies this and stops with abstract thinking will certainly come to the view that thinking is an unfruitful appendix to life. Abstract thinking makes the cognizing man a mere spectator of life. This spectator-standpoint shows itself in Spengler. As a modern man he has lived himself into this abstract thinking. He is a significant personality. He can feel how, with this thinking, he stands outside of life. But life is his main interest. And the question arises in him: What can a man do in life with this thinking? But this points us to the tragedy in the life of modern man. He has raised himself to the level of abstract thinking, but he does not know how to do anything for life with it. Spengler's book expresses what is a fact for many persons, but which they have never noticed. The men of our culture are fully awake in their thinking, but with their awakeness they stand there perplexed.

Spengler's Decline of the West is a book of perplexity. The author has a right to speak of this decline. For the forces of decay, to which others passively succumb, work actively in him. He understands them, yet he refuses to come to those forces of ascent which can be achieved in waking. Therefore, he sees only decline and expects the continuation of this in the mystic darkness of the “blood.”

An alarming trait runs through Spengler's presentation. Accomplished intellectual soul-constitution, grown confused concerning itself, approaches the events of the historical life of man only to be repeatedly overpowered by these facts. The agnosticism of modern times is taken with such complete earnestness that it is not only formulated theoretically but raised to a method of research. The various cultures are so described that each sets before us a picture which drives us to flee from our own Waking-being. But this flight is not into the fruitful dreams of the poet, which plunge into life and transform cold thinking into spirit; much more is it a flight into an artificial and oppressive nightmare. Glittering abstract thinking, which is afraid of itself and seeks to drown itself in dreams!

It now falls to me to speak of things that have arisen in the course of our anthroposophical life, of spiritual scientific research gleaned from the Akasha Chronicle and related to the life of Jesus. In Kristiania, I have already compiled some material about the life of Christ Jesus. I have also communicated various things in other cities, and I would like to say a few words to you as well, from certain points of view. In general, I emphasize that it will not be easy to talk about it, because direct results are still quite badly noted in the present, even if it is generally admitted that there is a spirit that one speaks of abstractly. But when one gives concrete messages from the field of the spiritual development of the world, one finds not only well-meaning critics, but also those who have gone wild, as was the case with the message about the two Jesus children, which is very plausible for the objective thinker. Therefore, I ask that today's messages be treated with reverence, because if they are presented outside of our context, they may be misunderstood and experience fierce opposition.

But there are also aspects according to which one feels obliged to communicate these things. One aspect is that in our time there is a real need for a renewal of the understanding of Christ Jesus, a renewed looking into what actually happened in Palestine, what took place as the Mystery on Golgotha. But there is yet another aspect. This is that occult insight is interwoven with the whole attitude that flows from spiritual science, and this brings us the realization of how infinitely healthy and invigorating it is for the human soul when they can often think of what they can consider to be one of the greatest events. It can be a help to these souls to remember the Mystery of Golgotha, to remember the concrete things, to remember what can still be investigated in detail today. And today one can still investigate things with occult insight. So I would like to emphasize the spiritual value of remembering such events and would like to go into some of the things that emerge from the Akasha Chronicle as a kind of gospel, as the Fifth Gospel. The four others were not written simultaneously either; they were written under the inspiration of the Akashic Records. We live today in an age in which the words of Christ Jesus are being fulfilled: “I am with you always.” In special times, he is especially close to us, proclaiming new things that have been fulfilled at the time of the Mystery of Golgotha.

Today I want to speak of what is called the Pentecost event. For me, it was the starting point of the Fifth Gospel. I first turned my gaze to the souls of the apostles and disciples, who were not only gathered according to tradition, but were truly gathered at the time of Pentecost. There one saw that there was something in their souls that they felt like a strange coming to themselves. For they knew something that had happened to them. They said to each other: We have experienced something in a remarkable way. — For they looked back on experiences that they had gone through as in a higher dream, in a different state of consciousness. In a higher sense it was as it is in a lower sense for the individual human being when he has experienced something while dreaming and remembers it and says to himself: I have gone through this dream and now afterwards it becomes clear to me before waking consciousness. - So it was also at the Feast of Pentecost that they said to themselves: It was as if the ordinary consciousness had been put to sleep. The events emerged as if in memory, which they knew they had experienced, but they had not experienced them with their ordinary daily consciousness. They knew that now. So they now remembered: We once walked with him who was so dear, so precious and valuable to us. Then, at a certain point in time, it was as if he had been taken from us. It seemed to them as if the memory of walking with Jesus on the physical plane had been interrupted, and as if they had experienced what followed as if in a dream.

Going back in time, they experienced what is described in the Protestant doctrine as the Ascension, and going back further, they experienced being with Christ Jesus in a certain way. They now knew: We were together, but we were like dreamers back then; only now can we fully know how we were with him. — They experienced the time they had spent with him like dreamers after the resurrection. They now experienced this in their memories. Then they went back and experienced for themselves what the resurrection and death on the cross was. I can say that there is a tremendous, profound impression when one first sees, as at the Feast of Pentecost, the souls of the apostles looking back at the event of Golgotha. And I must confess that at first I had the impression of not looking directly at the Mystery of Golgotha, but of looking into the souls of the Apostles as they had seen it, looking from the Feast of Pentecost: after all, they had not actually experienced it with their physical eyes, had not consciousness, but only afterwards did they realize that the Mystery of Golgotha was there, for their physical consciousness ceased to be aware of it some time before Christ Jesus had to undergo all that is described as flagellation, crowning with thorns and crucifixion. If the expression is not misunderstood because it is relatively trivial, I would still like to use it: the disciples had dozed off and dreamt through what had happened.

It was touching to see how, for example, Peter accomplishes what is described as a denial. He denies Christ, but not out of a moral defect; rather, he is as if in a dream. In fact, in his ordinary consciousness, the connection with Christ does not exist. He is asked: “Do you belong to Christ Jesus?” At that moment he does not know, for his etheric body had undergone such a transformation that he is not aware of the connection at that moment. He endures the whole time and walks with the Risen One. What the Risen One accomplishes in his soul penetrates deeply into his soul, but it only becomes conscious in retrospect at the Feast of Pentecost. Now the meaningful words that Christ Jesus speaks sound differently in the soul, the words that he speaks to Peter and James as he takes them with him up the mountain: “Watch and pray!” And indeed they fell into a kind of different state of consciousness, into a kind of dream trance.

When they were together and in consultation, Christ Jesus was also among them in the etheric body, without them knowing it, and He spoke with them and they with Him, but for them it all happened as if in a dream. It only became a conscious event in retrospect at the Feast of Pentecost. First they went with Him, then consciousness disappeared and afterwards they woke up again. They thought: First he went to his death on the cross and died on the cross, then what the resurrection is took place, and he came again in his spiritual body, dealt with us and let the secrets of the world trickle into our souls. Now all this is presented to us, which we have experienced in the other state of consciousness.

Above all, two impressions are deeply significant. There are the hours before death. Of course, it is tempting to make all kinds of scientific objections; but if you imagine that, by directing your gaze to the Akasha Chronicle, the events are objective reality, then you may relate them. First of all, there is one thing that presents itself. Before one's death, one sees an eclipse lasting several hours spreading over the earth, which gives the clairvoyant the impression of a solar eclipse; but it could also have been an eclipse of the clouds. Then one can perceive how, at the moment of dying on the cross, the Christ Impulse, passing through this eclipse, unites with the earth aura. The connection of the cosmic Christ impulse with the earth aura can be seen in this eclipse before his death. Then one has that great, powerful impression, as this entity, which lived in the body of Jesus, now pours itself out over the spiritual-soul aura of the earth, so that the souls of men are now, henceforth, as if drawn into it. To see in spirit the cross on Golgotha, and to see the Christ pour out over earthly life through the darkened earth, is an enormously overwhelming impression; for one sees in the picture that which had to take place for the development of mankind on earth.

And now the Entombment: here one can follow, as I already mentioned in the Karlsruhe cycle, how a natural event presents itself as the outer expression of a spiritual event. When Christ lay in the tomb, a mighty earthquake with a whirlwind came over the earth. It was particularly significant that it turned out, also from the Akasha Chronicle, what we today call the Fifth Gospel: that after the whirlwind the cloths lay in the tomb, as it is faithfully described in the Gospel of John. What I have now described, the apostles experienced as the Mystery of Golgotha when looking back at their own encounters with Christ after the resurrection. At Pentecost, they first experienced for their consciousness what they had gone through as if in a dream. |

Christ Jesus was truly alone when He accomplished the Mystery of Golgotha, for His disciples had not only fled, but their consciousness had also fled. They were in a kind of dream state and experienced the events in such a way that it was only at Pentecost that they had a full retrospective in their consciousness. In a peculiar way they experienced this meeting with Christ after the resurrection, so that they saw the following in pictures: Here and there we were with him, he spoke; only now do we realize this. But now they experienced something strange. They saw the pictures of their experiences with Christ as they corresponded to their being together after the resurrection. But to them it was as if another one always showed up in alternation: an image always appeared that reminded them of a physical togetherness that they had experienced as if in a dream trance. But two events always presented themselves to them: a being together after the resurrection and a being together before they had fallen into a trance, when they were still in the physical body with Christ, recognizable to the physical consciousness. The events appeared to them as two superimposed images. One showed a memory of a physical event, the other a reawakening of what they had gone through with Christ in a different state of consciousness. This superimposition of two images made it clear to them what had actually taken place in time. What had taken place for the development on earth was clearly evident to them at the Feast of Pentecost. If one wants to describe what they went through, one is confronted with two grandiose and profound events. What had taken place was evoked by the Pentecost event. But that which had been in the cosmos earlier is now on earth, that is what presented itself to them. All this only becomes clear to us when we see it in the Akasha Chronicle.

Let us start with the experiences that a person has. Before descending to a new earthly incarnation, a person first experiences spiritual facts. He then goes through the state of the germ and birth, passes through the material body into physical life on earth and finally returns to the spiritual world. This is the development of his soul. These stages are different for every being. We will try to apply them to the Christ-being.

Christ passes through his states in a different way. From his baptism to the mystery of Golgotha there is a kind of germinal state. His dying on the cross is his birth, his life with the apostles after his resurrection is a wandering on earth. The transition into the earth aura is what the transition into the spiritual world is for the human soul. Exactly the opposite occurs for Christ. He seeks the opposite for his destiny. The human soul goes from the earth into the spiritual world, the Christ goes from the spiritual world into the earthly sphere, unites with the earth in order to pass over into the earth aura through the great sacrifice. This is the transition of the Christ to Devachan. And now in the earth aura, the Christ lives his self-chosen Devachan. Man ascends from earth to heaven; the Christ, conversely, descends from heaven to earth to live with men. This is his Devachan.

The fact that the God has thus entered into His earthly existence, appeared to the minds of the Apostles and disciples at Pentecost, in the image of the Ascension, actually of the descent to earth, as one of the last events. Thus it was clear to their feelings what had happened, what fate had befallen the evolution of the earth. At Pentecost, the Apostles felt transformed and filled with a new awareness: that was the descent of the Spirit, the inner illumination of a spirit-filled realization.

Of course, when recounting these events, one can appear to people to be a dreamer or a fantasist, but on the other hand it is understandable that the great events that have taken place in earthly life cannot be expressed in ordinary terms. Then the disciples saw, looking back, only now understanding, the three-year life of Christ Jesus from the baptism of John to the mystery of Golgotha. I would like to make a few remarks about this life.

I would like to start with a description of the events as they present themselves to the observer of the Akashic Records. Before the baptism of John in the Jordan, the spiritual gaze falls on an event of a very special kind in the life of Jesus, into which the Christ had not yet poured himself. At that time, Jesus, in his thirtieth year, had a conversation with his stepmother or foster mother. From the age of twelve, he was not with his biological mother, but an ever deeper bond had developed between Jesus and his stepmother. I have already related the experiences of Jesus from the age of twelve to eighteen, to twenty-four, to thirty. These were profound events. Here I would like to tie in with an event that took place before the baptism of John. It is a conversation with the foster mother. It was a conversation in which Jesus of Nazareth let his soul pass before his mother, everything he had experienced since the age of twelve. There he was able to tell her, so that his words were imbued with deep, powerful feelings, what he had actually experienced in his soul, more or less alone. He told her vividly and forcefully. He spoke of how, during these years, from his twelfth to his eighteenth, the high teachings of God, once revealed to the Hebrew prophets, had come as an illumination to his soul. For that is what had come to Jesus as an inspiration during the period from his twelfth to his eighteenth year. It had begun when he had been in the temple among the scribes. It was an inspiration, as it was once revealed to the prophets in the great, ancient times. It happened that he had to suffer pain under the impression of these inner realizations. It had become deeply ingrained in his soul: the old truths were given to the Hebrew people at a time when their bodies were such that they could understand them. But now their bodies were no longer suited to receive it, as they were in the time of the old prophets.

A word must be pronounced that characterizes the tremendously painful experience in the life of Jesus; in the abstract, one must say it, although it is an enormously incisive word. There was a language in the Hebrew period that came down from the spiritual-divine realm. Now the old language rose up again, shining forth from the soul, but there was no one to understand it. One would preach to deaf ears when speaking of the greatest teachings. This was Jesus' greatest sorrow; he described it to his stepmother.

Then he described a second event that he had experienced on his travels during his eighteenth to twenty-fourth year in the regions of Palestine where pagans lived. He traveled around and worked as a carpenter. In the evening he sat with the people. It was a gathering that people did not experience with anyone else. Through the great pain, something had developed in him that finally transformed into the magic of love that flowed through every word. This magic of words worked in conversation with people. What had such a great effect was that something like a mysterious power was poured out between his words. It was so significant that long after he had left, the people sat together again in the evening and it seemed to them as if he were still there, more than just physically. They sat together and had the impression, had the shared vision, as if he were reappearing. So he remained alive among the people in numerous places, he was spiritually present.

Once he arrived at a place where there was an old pagan cult altar. The sacrificial altar had fallen into disrepair. The priests had left because a terrible disease had taken hold of the people there. When Jesus came there, people gathered. Jesus announced himself through the impression he created as something special. The gentile people had rushed there and gathered around the altar, expecting a priest to offer a sacrifice. Jesus told his stepmother this. He saw clearly what had become of the gentile sacrificial service. He saw, as he looked over the people, what had gradually become of the gentile gods: evil, demonic entities, that is what he saw at that time. Then he fell down and now, in a different state of consciousness, he experienced what happened during the pagan sacrifices. The old gods were no longer there, as they had been in earlier times, but demonic entities appeared, feeding on the people and making them ill.

He had experienced this in a different state of consciousness after he had fallen. Now he told all this, and also how the people had fled, but also how he saw the demons withdraw. Theoretically, one can determine that the old paganism had declined and no longer contained the great wisdom of the past. But Jesus experienced this in direct vision. Now he could tell his mother: If the voice of heaven were to come down to the Hebrews again, as it once came to the prophets, there would be no one to understand it; but the pagan gods no longer come either. Demons have taken their place. Today, even the pagan revelations find no one who could receive them. — That was the second great pain.

In moving words, he described to his mother the third great sorrow he had experienced, when he was allowed to join the Essene community. These people wanted to work their way up to seeing by perfecting the individual human soul, and thus to learn from the divine worlds what would otherwise be impossible for Jews and Gentiles to perceive. But only a few people could experience this, and that could be achieved through the way of life that had become established among the Essenes. Yet Jesus had united with the occult community of the Essenes for a time. When he left them, he saw Lucifer and Ahriman fleeing from the Essene gate into the rest of the world. He had also had a visionary conversation with Buddha within the Essene enclosure. And now he knew: there is a way to ascend to where one unites with the Divine-Spiritual, but only a few can reach it. If everyone wanted to achieve it, everyone would have to renounce it. Only a few can achieve it at the expense of the many, by freeing themselves from Lucifer and Ahriman; but then Lucifer and Ahriman go to the other humanity. It was not possible, either according to the Jewish or the Gentile or Essene tradition, to open up the essential connection with the divine spiritual world to humanity in general.

During this conversation, Jesus' whole soul was united with all the pain. All the strength of his ego lay in these words. Something passed from him to his adoptive mother, so strongly was he connected with what he was saying. His being passed over to his mother with his words, so that he was as if outside of his ego, had stepped out of his ego. The mother became something completely different as a result. While something had gone out of him, the mother had received a new self that had sunk into her, she had become a new personality.

If one now investigates and tries to find out what this process consisted of, a strange thing emerges: the physical mother of this Jesus, who had been in the spiritual world since he was twelve, had now descended with her soul and completely spiritualized and filled the soul of the adoptive mother so that she became another. But he felt as if his ego had left him: the Zarathustra ego had passed over into the spiritual world. Driven by the urge to do something, Jesus now went to the Jordan, impelled by inner necessity, to John the Baptist, the Essene. And John performed the “baptism in the Jordan. The Zarathustra-I had gone out and the Christ-Being descended: He had been imbued with the Christ-Essence. The adoptive mother had been imbued with the soul of that mother who had dwelt in the spiritual world. But He now walked on earth in the bodies of Jesus, He, the Christ. This connection was not immediately and completely established; both happened gradually.

I will tell the individual events from which it can be seen how the Christ was initially only loosely connected to the body of Jesus and gradually became more and more firmly connected to it. Once you have become acquainted with the suffering and pain of Jesus from the age of twelve to thirty, you are only now becoming acquainted with the tremendous increase in this pain of Jesus, now that in the following three years God connected more and more with man. This continuous, ever more intense connection of the God with the human being was an equally intense increase of pain. That unspeakable thing had to happen to make it possible for humanity to ascend to the spiritual powers of origin, that is shown by the suffering of the God during the three years that he stayed on earth.

It is not to be expected that there will be much understanding for these events in the present time. There is a book that should be read because of its paradox: 'Death', by Maurice Maeterlinck. This book says that the spirit cannot suffer, only the body can suffer. In fact, the physical body can suffer no more than a stone. Physical pain is mental pain. Only that which is spiritual, which has an astral body, can suffer. That is why a God can suffer much more than a human being. The Christ experienced sufferings unto death, the most intense of which occurred when the Christ united with the presence of Jesus. He conquered death by merging with the earth aura.

Earlier I described in a more abstract way how the Christ event stands at the center of the evolution of the earth. This most important event loses nothing when it is considered in its concrete reality. Everything comes to life when all the facts are described, but it must be seen correctly. Once the Fifth Gospel is available – humanity will need it, perhaps only after a long time – people will look at this most important event in a different way. The Fifth Gospel will be a source of comfort and health, a book of strength. At the end of the fourth gospel there are words that indicate that more will come: the world would not be able to grasp the books that would have to be written. - This is a true word. One can take courage in another way when new facts about Palestine come to light, because the four gospels actually came about in the same way as the fifth, except that this fifth will appear two thousand years later.

Once the Fifth Gospel is here, it will be no different from the others in the way it came about. But there will be people who will not recognize it because the human soul is selfish. Suppose Shakespeare's work “Hamlet” was unknown and “Hamlet” appeared today: today people would scold him. And so the Fifth Gospel will have to struggle through. People need something that those who want to understand will really understand. It will only be necessary to acknowledge that, as in the past, revelations can only come from the spirit. But the means and ways to do so are different. In this respect, our time has special tasks.

In what period did what I have described take place? It could only take place in the same period as the one in which it occurred: the fourth post-Atlantean period. If it had occurred in the third or second period, for example, there would have been numerous people who were familiar with the ancient wisdom of the Indians, for whom the wisdom would have been self-evident. Christ would have been less understood in the Persian and still less in the Egyptian period. But understanding was completely lost in the fourth period. Therefore, the teaching could only penetrate minds as a matter of faith. It was the worst time for understanding, which people were furthest from. But the effects of Christ do not depend on what people can understand. For Christ was not a teacher of the world, but He Who, as a spiritual Entity, had accomplished something, Who had descended into the aura of the Earth in order to live among men. This can be symbolized in the soul when the women came to the tomb and the spiritual Being said to them: “He whom you seek is not here!”

This was repeated when a large group of Europeans went on a crusade to the Holy Sepulchre. There people went to the physical sites of Golgotha. They were also told: “He whom you seek is no longer here! for he had gone to Europe. While the pilgrims were drawn to Asia by their hearts, Europe began to awaken intellectually, but the understanding of Christ was on the wane. It was only in the 12th century that the demand for proofs of God's existence arose. What does this tell us about more recent times? Do you ever need to prove who the thief is when you catch him in your garden? You only need proof if you do not know him. People sought proof of God when they had lost their understanding; because what you know, you do not need to prove.

Christ was there, permeating the souls. Everything that has happened historically has happened under the influence of the Christ, because the souls lived in the Christ impulse. Now humanity must enter into a conscious grasp of the events of the time. Therefore, humanity must get to know the Christ even better. Linked to this is the realization of the man Jesus of Nazareth. This will become more and more necessary. It is not easy to speak about this, but in a certain respect it is something that presents itself as a higher duty in the present time: to speak to a few souls about the man Jesus of Nazareth, to speak about what we can call the Fifth Gospel.

In our deliberations over the past three hours, we have included as an episode the description of our building here, its facilities and the goal associated with it. Today, we will now have a lot to tie in with these building deliberations, which I would like to see in the broadest sense as a consideration of time. We have indeed had to emphasize that this building, as a representative of our anthroposophical spiritual science, should at the same time be a manifestation of the times, so to speak, in its forms, in its entire design, it should express that which wants to and must be part of our contemporary development from the present into the near future. When we speak today of the great tasks of our time and in particular when we must point out that a certain inclination to receive spiritual things must arise in a larger part of humanity and that this is a special demand of the time, then such an indication is directly derived from all that the Science of Initiation and Initiation Wisdom can currently gain from the spiritual world. But there is no need to approach the spiritual world directly to convince oneself of the necessity of a spiritual impact in our time. In one of the last lectures here, I spoke of the fact that we are indeed facing a major transformation of the world, including its outward appearance. Today it can already be more or less apparent to everyone that, as a result of current events, the outer world domination is falling to the English-speaking population. We do not want to talk about this falling into world domination, but we do want to talk about, and have already talked about, the fact that this is linked to a fundamental sense of responsibility, a sense of responsibility that is quite clear about the fact that wherever there is the possibility of exercising a certain domination over the world, the urge to permeate what one can do with the spiritual impulse that is currently demanded by the development of humanity must take hold. For not to penetrate what one can do, or not to want to penetrate it, means to lead human development towards its decline.

It is really not without significance, especially at this time, to engage in retrospective reflection, and from the abundance of what could be unrolled here before you from such retrospective reflection, I would like to present one thing to you. A remarkable coincidence of events led to a subtle man giving a lecture in a German city in 1870, just as the Battle of Sedan was being fought – but this was not yet known in the city – where this man, whom I call a subtle man, gave his lecture and was already able to point out certain successes that Germany had at the time. But this reference to these successes was at the same time accompanied by the demand that a spiritual deepening must take place among those who have the success. And soon after, after fuller successes had been achieved, the same man wrote an essay on the necessities of the development of the times. In this essay, which now lies almost fifty years behind us, there are remarkable things, things that bear witness to a twofold aspect. Firstly, it explicitly states that it is urgently necessary to avoid two one-sidedness. One of these consists in turning only to the abstract spiritual, the other in turning only to the contemplation and worship of the material. And what the man in question demanded of his contemporaries and their descendants was something he called “ideal realism”.

It can be seen from this that such a demand was made at that time, when there was a certain longing for a renewal of spiritual life. But if one follows everything that was put forward at that time out of this longing for a renewal of spiritual life, then one sees the complete powerlessness to find anything that could represent a connection between spiritual striving and material striving, that could arise as a reality for the concept of ideal realism. So it was an important demand, but one that was voiced out of a mere intuited yearning, out of a profound impotence, out of the impossibility of finding any real content. It was an indefinite feeling, nothing more. But the explanation of this feeling was connected with something else. The man in question, and in agreement with many others who at that time felt something of a longing for a renewal of spiritual life, pointed out that if a new spirit did not come, the broad masses of Europe would storm and destroy everything that had so far been surrendered to humanity in the way of culture. At the time, a man who spoke a lot here in Switzerland, Johannes Scherr – I ask you to bear in mind that what was said was said fifty years ago! He pointed out the great danger that the broad masses of humanity would become self-aware in a certain sense, but this at a time when the bearers of education had turned away from a spiritual world view and turned to materialistic concepts and ideas. In those days, such things were spoken of in sharp and serious words.

What followed? The time came when a materialistic wave swept over the whole of Europe. It was a time when it was easy to delude oneself about the great dangers inherent in not wanting to know anything about a spiritual impact. Only now and then did one or the other arise to point out that, despite the conscious persistence in comfortable everyday life in the subconscious depths of human souls, the yearning for spiritual life is more present than at any time in world-historical development.

But all such voices were taken as the voices of the feuilleton. Such voices were not appreciated in their full seriousness. And basically, we are still living in that time today. Basically, the wave of the most terrible misfortunes of the last five years has passed through most European souls at most in such a way that they reflect on and empathize with the external consequences, but do not want to go into what needs to be addressed if there is to be any further development of humanity in the future in any favorable sense at all.

What we are facing today in Europe has been decades in preparation. But the souls of men have not prepared themselves. The souls of the majority of people today are as unreceptive as possible to the impact of a spiritual wave from the spiritual world, which is beating at the gates of life, which wants to come in and which people do not want to accept in their souls and hearts. What is necessary is that people turn to a spiritual view of the world, above all to a real knowledge of man himself. The human being cannot be recognized without recognizing the spiritual world, because man lives with two-thirds of his being in the spiritual-soul world, only with one-third in the physical-material world. And without seeking to understand spiritual life, man remains without knowledge of his own nature. In a much more comprehensive sense than is even suspected by most people today, we must ask: What is the nature of the realm of human soul life that we encompass with the word thinking? What kind of essence is the realm of human soul that we encompass with the words willing or acting? Between the two lies the soul, the life of feeling. Knowledge of the life of feeling or soul would arise if one were only to turn one's attention to the life of thoughts and actions, to the life of will.

Please follow me for a short time in a contemplation of what our thinking is. Man is, of course, aware that he inwardly accompanies with his thinking the life that makes an impression on him from there or from over there. This thinking — one lives in it. But one should also become aware that the greater part of life is filled with the fact that this thinking is permeated by all kinds of dream-like elements. Most people are not aware of how much of their thinking is an involuntary element. All involuntary thinking is basically of a dream-like nature. Try to realize, in a superficial self-knowledge, how far you direct your thoughts from the center of your will in everyday life. Try to realize how far you have the aspiration to direct thoughts inwardly, to shape thoughts yourself. Try to realize to what extent it is the case that the soul lets thoughts come, lets them break in. They give themselves up to it, the thoughts, one weaving itself together with the other, and man comfortably surrenders himself to this involuntary play of thoughts. There is no great difference between this everyday play of thoughts and between the dreams that dawn from sleep.

Dream-like elements also intrude into human thinking from other sides. Today, one participates in the outer life. How does one participate in this outer life? One informs oneself about what is going on in the world; one informs oneself in such a way that one allows oneself to be carried into one's experience, so to speak, by what comes into life through this or that impulse. One surrenders to some popular agitation. Just examine how much of this devotion to a popular agitation arises from one's own will and how much can simply be attributed to being carried along by the surges of life! And I could tell you many, many things that rush into thinking and dominate it, without the will of the human being itself having a direct effect on this thinking.

The specific historical task in writing my book “The Philosophy of Freedom” was to point out how human freedom is only possible at all if this involuntary, dreamy thinking is not present, but rather impulses from the fully conscious will assert themselves. This thinking - what nature is it then? When is it real thinking? When it really comes from the fully conscious will, when we grasp the thought in such a way that it is we ourselves who grasp the thought. At the moment when the thought grasps us, we are no longer free. Only when we can grasp the thought out of our own power, out of our own being, are we free. But then the thought can be nothing but an image. If the thought were anything other than an image, it would be a reality, and then it could not leave us free. Everything that is a reality weaves us into the stream of the real. Only that which is an image leaves us free. Imagine how everything you see in a room has a real effect on you. You are only completely free in relation to the images that look back at you from the mirror. These cannot harm you on their own, you cannot be offended by these images. If you are to do something in response to these images, then it must be you who takes action. If a fly lands on your nose – it is, after all, an insignificant animal – you are not free, you make a reflexive movement. And so it is with everything that is there. You are only free in relation to what you can perceive as an image that is not reality, that is an image. Why are the contents of our thinking images? Well, we need only recall from my 'Occult Science in Outline' how man was connected with a previous embodiment of our earth planet, with the development of the moon. If you read everything that is said there about the development of the moon, you will say to yourself: During this development of the moon, man was connected with quite different entities and also with quite different natural forces than he is in his earthly existence. He has gone through this moon existence. The after-effect of it is in him. He has developed from this moon existence to the earthly existence. And if you read more carefully what I have discussed there, you will say to yourself: During the time on the moon, man did not yet think in the same way as he does as an earth human being. He lived in unconscious imaginations then, and these unconscious imaginations were not at his disposal, any more than the images in dreams are at his disposal today. Only the thoughts are at our discretion, to which we as human beings are only now gradually developing in the fifth post-Atlantic period. What we have today as thinking is a further development of what we had as pictorial experiences of the soul during our lunar existence.

If you understand this quite clearly, then you will also see that everything that creeps into thinking, as I have just characterized the dream-like aspect of thinking in everyday life, is a remnant of what the human being had as soul life during the moon-end. If today man abandons himself to his surging thoughts, if he shuts out his will from his thoughts, if he lets what is dream-like in nature play into his thinking, then the conditions of the moon-life somehow play into his thinking.

You will see that this influence of the moon's existence on our everyday thinking has a wide, very, very wide scope. Everywhere you can feel how the involuntary element of what arises purely and shoots up mingles with thinking and imagining. This is a remnant of the moon's existence. So you have two opposing forces at work in human nature itself. The one kind of thing draws us towards letting our will dominate our thinking, towards becoming free in our thinking element. The other power constantly wants to mix into this free thinking that which is a remnant of the old moon culture: a Luciferic element. The Luciferic element constantly mixes into our everyday thinking. We cannot reject it. We would have to reject everything that we cannot yet reach with our conscious free thinking, but we must strive for knowledge. We must be clear about this in our consciousness. It is merely a phrase when someone says they want to escape Lucifer. That is nonsense, because the Luciferic constantly plays into everyday existence. But today, if one really wants to engage with the demands of the development of humanity in the present, one must have the good will to know within oneself that these two powers, the actual earthly powers and the luciferic powers, interact in our soul existence. Only in this way can one gain a real knowledge of what is inside the human soul.

In this way, I have, I would say, outlined one pole of the human soul. Take the other pole, which lies more on the side of the will. The will also plays a part in thinking; but we have now considered thinking permeated by the will. Now let us consider the volition that is permeated by thinking. How does volition, which leads to action, play a role in the ordinary everyday life of a human being? We can realize this by considering the connection between our everyday real actions and the whole of cosmic existence. Just think: when you take a single step, when you walk from here to there [forward], you bring about, even if only to a very small extent, a different state of equilibrium in the whole earth. When you step here [backwards], you step to a different place than when you step here [forwards]. You influence the balance of the earth in a different way when you step here [backwards] than when you step here [forwards]. But when you look at it properly, you will see that you yourself are constantly influencing the balance of the earth through your movements, and you will come up with yet another way of influencing it. Just imagine you take something that comes purely from nature. If, for example, there is a tree branch on a tree trunk, this tree branch, the way it is attached to the tree trunk, has a certain relationship to the whole earth. It has a certain equilibrium relationship to the whole earth. The whole earth and the branch together form a whole. The moment you break off the branch and lay it down beside it, you have changed the whole equilibrium of the earth, even if only to a small extent. The tree weighs less, and the broken branch weighs differently in a different place. You change the balance to a different degree if you lay the branch there or if you lay it there.

This is something that you bring into the whole earthly existence of your own accord. But at least initially you are only bringing out the relationship between your human being and the surrounding world. But you can do more. For example, you can shape something out of this tree branch. What I mean is, you can artificially shape it into something that is an object for some use. You have thought up the form, and you have carved away the other parts that do not belong to this form. Now you exert a completely different influence with your object, not only by breaking off, not only by putting aside, but by giving a certain form to what you have taken from nature. Just think how much people in the technical and artistic fields do in this direction, how they shape what they wrest from nature, and how they influence the earthly through this!

And now I ask you: When man does this, when he changes nature, when he takes what he takes from nature and forms it into his machines, into his works of art, does he do this out of his thinking? — Let us consider it in so far as he does it out of his thinking: He does it out of the pictorial nature of thinking. To the earthly, it is absolutely unimportant what happens, just as the images that arise in the mirror make no particular impression on the objects in the room. But the human being gives reality to these things. That is the other side of things when the human being, after having developed out of the lunar existence, surrenders to thinking: When man forms something and places it into the world, just as the dreamlike plays into our thinking and, in the dreamlike, the old lunar state, the Luciferic, plays into all our mechanization, into all our reshaping of the world, that which is not yet connected with earthly existence, what we ourselves place into this earthly existence. What is that actually?

What we place out of our free soul life into earthly existence does not follow from the old moon existence, but is added to the present earthly existence. It will only have full significance when something else has entered into earthly existence. Just as the child that is carried in the womb of the mother, or perhaps is not yet carried but is only waiting in the spiritual world for its embodiment, is still a future event, so everything that a person forms is actually destined for the future and is still in its embryonic state in the present. And we only look at it truthfully when we look at it in its embryonic state, in its significance for the future. When we shape something in life today, we do not take nature as it is, but change it out of our thoughts, thus creating for the future. But if we regard what we create for the future as belonging to the present, if it becomes so ingrained in our lives that we consider it solely in terms of its usefulness for the present, then the future becomes ingrained in our actions, just as the past becomes ingrained in our thinking in dream-like thinking; then the Ahrimanic takes hold of our actions.

In human life, only the child, who, when playing, also shapes objects but shapes them without purpose, not seeking utility, is protected in his unconsciousness from taking what he does in life for the present and not in preparation for the future. We should be aware that we shape the machines and works of art we produce for the next existence, for the existence on Jupiter, that the earthly existence must first be shed and that only a future existence will give meaning to our actions.

This is the great error of modern times: that people place what they produce in the mechanical and artistic spheres directly in their present earthly usefulness and do not want to be aware that we have to work for our future earthly existence. The Ahrimanic can thus creep into our volition by applying a mere utilitarian point of view to what we do mechanically or artistically or otherwise in life.

But we must ask ourselves: Has this utilitarian point of view always been there? — This utilitarian point of view was not present as such in the older times of Greek culture, for example, and even less so in the older cultures. There was, if only as an atavistic presentiment, an awareness that man creates beyond earthly existence. Particularly since the fifteenth century, the striving for mere utility in what man produces has grown strong. And today, world programs are already being made from the mere point of view of utility.

Just as it is impossible to exclude from our thinking the realm of dream-thoughts, so it is impossible to exclude the utilitarian point of view. Therefore no one should speak the thoughtless words that he wants to flee from Ahriman. That is nonsense. He cannot. Ahriman plays a part in all our actions, with the exception of our child's play, in which we strive for no purpose, no use, but which is done for the sake of the action itself. In all our other actions we can only strive for some kind of ideal. But how? We must be clear about how two forces play into our human existence here again. What forces? One is the force that makes us act for reasons of utility, but the other is this: when we do something in life where we do not just let ourselves be carried by life like puppets, when we do something in life without leading such a puppet existence, then something is always going on with ourselves: we become more skillful, we become wiser, we can do things better afterwards. That is the other power. Most people today pay no attention to it, especially after they have passed the age of eighteen, when they are already “quite wise” and “quite clever” for their present-day view of life, that one can become more and more skillful in what one does throughout one's life. One is a sense of usefulness, the other is a constant self-discipline to pay such attention to what one does that one observes how one enhances one's human existence by doing this or that, by experiencing this or that. What plays into our human existence has a completely different meaning than the mere external point of view of usefulness and the moment. Take a more elevated example, I might say, and consider Raphael's pictures. Raphael worked on his pictures throughout his short life. The time will certainly come when none of Raphael's pictures will remain, perhaps after-images, but having nothing directly to do with Raphael. A time will surely come when the earth will no longer have any of these images of Raphael's, when no embodied earthly human being will be able to see Raphael's images. But Raphael will still be there, and that which Raphael has become by creating these images will also be there. By creating these images, Raphael has been furthered in a corresponding incarnation. He carried this through life between death and a new birth, appeared in a new earthly incarnation, did something there that he carried through life, that remains, even when the earth perishes in the cosmos. That which Raphael became through his paintings is what remains. One can even define the utilitarian point of view so subtly that one includes the fact that pictures exist in this utilitarian point of view. If you think about it, you will not find much difference between gross utility and the utility that is created by the fact that Raphael's pictures exist. But something else is that Raphael's individuality and soul have been transformed by the fact that he made his pictures. This is carried over from earthly existence into the existence on Jupiter. This is what develops.

Here, I would like to say, we have a more exalted example of what becomes of human souls, which can be distinguished from external action. This distinction must be borne in mind in a comprehensive sense. One must realize that the earth will one day be shattered in the cosmos, that nothing will remain but human souls. When nothing remains but human souls, the harvest of the development of human souls will be what distinguishes this earthly existence at its end from the earthly existence at its beginning. From this point of view, what one can call an obligation to further oneself in earthly development begins. There begins the obligation to make something of oneself, so that one can be something for the Cosmos. And there begins the thought: The earth will shatter, the earth will split apart, the human souls will be alone!

The strength needed to bear this thought, I would say to grasp it in all its poignancy, this strength will be completely lost to people. And thus the evolution of the earth will cease to make sense if people do not contrive to grasp the Mystery of Golgotha spiritually. For basically, the mystery of Golgotha, properly understood, contains the germ of such thoughts, to be grasped from a correct, spiritual world view that is appropriate for today. Consider just one very specific popular saying that the Gospels ascribe to Christ Jesus: “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” That which He gives to the human soul will remain, will be there even when the earth has shattered and shattered in the cosmos.

Now I ask you – and now I come back to my consideration of time – can that which religions and theology have gradually made of the Mystery of Golgotha still give man this perspective? No, that is impossible! Theology and religions have also become materialized. But a materialized mystery of Golgotha does not extend in its meaning beyond earthly existence. Anyone who is serious about Christianity today - I have explained it to you from different points of view, and today you have heard it again from a new point of view - cannot help but seek a spiritual understanding of this mystery of Golgotha.

In other words, however, this means that spiritual science, real knowledge of the spirit, is necessary for humanity today. As I said at the beginning of today's reflection, fifty years ago people were powerless to fill their ideal realism with anything that had reality. Hence the sailing into European misfortune. But today the question arises: Do those who can avert a new disaster, where spiritual science speaks today, want to continue living as those to whom spiritual science has not yet spoken had to live fifty years ago? — Then, indeed, earthly catastrophes will come, against which what is happening now is a trifle. Today it is not possible to say anything other than this. Fifty years ago, when people demanded a new spiritual life, they were unable to create it because the time had not yet come. Today the time has come. Today, not wanting to turn to this spiritual life means not being serious about the development of humanity! This is the responsibility I must speak of, which must be spoken of today, especially to those who can take on this responsibility today for the reasons already stated. Today, man must look at the horizon of world-historical observation. He cannot reduce his existence. Imagine you have a cupboard. The cupboard breaks apart. You have its pieces in front of you, you look at them. The cupboard has broken apart due to some natural event, and you have its pieces in front of you. What do you do? You take the pieces, take nails, and put the pieces together to make the old cupboard again. But it will fall apart again very soon if the pieces are rotten, if the nails can no longer hold, or if the pieces are torn in other places. Europe has fallen apart like an old cupboard: Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Romania, Serbia, German-Austria, the former Germany, the former Russia, Ukraine – these are the pieces, the debris of the cupboard. And the Western powers are trying to hammer these rotten pieces of the cupboard back together with nails that will not hold. People do not realize that they are dealing with rotten pieces. They want to glue the old together, whereas what is needed is to bring a completely new substance into human development. That is the idea at stake. Only spiritual science can draw our attention to this idea in a penetrating way today. And the question is: should the world, after what has seized Europe today, and what will very soon seize Asia and, beyond Europe, America, be glued and nailed together merely from its old rotten pieces for the sake of humanity's comfort, or should the connection be sought to renew the whole human being from the spiritual? — We will talk about this further tomorrow.

The information given in the 1914 course of lectures on life between death and rebirth¹ rounds out what I have been saying in preparation in the last few days and weeks. Today I particularly want to draw your attention to alternating states of life between death and rebirth, which are rather like the alternation between waking and sleeping we know during life between birth and death. Between birth and death we have the normal conscious awareness that makes us human beings only when awake. In sleep, conscious awareness is toned down; it is below the threshold of the waking state. It is at its dimmest level when we are fully asleep; we may perceive dream images which arise out of sleep and represent things remembered from life, or processes that take place in the organism. A similar change occurs during life between death and rebirth, except that everything is the other way round. Yesterday I spoke of the radically different way in which we experience life between death and rebirth. And this also applies to our states of conscious awareness.

Between death and rebirth we have experiences which show us the activities and will impulses of the I. This awareness of the I is essentially the norm when we are in the other world, just as the waking state is the norm here. We have seen that here on earth we have a physical body, ether body, astral body and I, whilst in the other world we have an I, a spirit self, life spirit and spirit human being, or at least the first beginnings of these. Between death and rebirth, therefore, the I is the lowest principle. Here, we are inwardly aware of our I when we are awake; there, the comparable level of consciousness gives awareness of the I in the activities and will impulses on which we look back, so they are like outside experiences; it is as if our actions shone back towards us from the earth.

This state changes into another. Here on earth we are able to speak of waking consciousness and sleep consciousness, with a subconscious state added on to our waking consciousness, as it were. Between death and rebirth we have the kind of consciousness I have just described and a kind of super consciousness, in which higher entities are conscious in us, or, we may say, higher entities fill our conscious mind.

When we are asleep on earth we go down to a kind of plant level of existence. Between death and rebirth we rise to a kind of Archangel consciousness, which is above our own level of consciousness. As I said, in the normal state we have the hierarchies behind us, as it were. In the state of super consciousness we literally move back towards them and live in them. We learn things from them that we would not otherwise know. If we were limited to the experiences of the I which shine out after us and at the same time are part of us, we would not gain experience of all the processes we shall need to build a new organism in our next life on earth. As it is, our normal state of consciousness alternates with a state where the knowledge of the Archangels and even the Archai enters into us; this then also comes to normal consciousness as a kind of memories, just as here on earth dreams come from the subconscious to the conscious mind. Between death and rebirth we thus have the form of consciousness I described yesterday and in between come super conscious states in which we gain knowledge from higher entities. This knowledge enables us to build exactly the kind of existence we shall need in our next life on earth.

You can see analogies between the life we have here between birth and death and the other life we live between death and rebirth. But we must also take note of the radical differences that exist between the two kinds of life. We shall gain a clearer picture if we also consider the element that mediates between the two, a higher principle that extends both to life on earth and to life between death and rebirth. As we go through life on earth we have, in the first place, the impressions we gain through the senses, and we have seen how impulses of will and activity become interwoven with them. For the moment, however, we need to consider the impressions of the outside world that are gained through the senses.

Try to visualize for a moment the sum total of sensory impressions you gain all the time you are awake in life on earth, with all the human senses involved in weaving a whole tapestry. We usually consider sensory impressions to be attached to objects. Thus objects and creatures present themselves in colours that impress the eye. Others produce sounds that impress the ear. Let us call to mind the whole world of sensory impressions and ask ourselves what they truly represent.

I have made it clear to you on more than one occasion that the fantastic world of moving atoms that physicists dream of is definitely not to be found behind our sensory impressions. No, behind the world we perceive with the senses lies something which is of the spirit. It is present in the world of the senses, though we are not directly aware of it when we have the tapestry before us in ordinary consciousness. In reality the tapestry presented to the senses contains the totality of all the spirits which in my Occult Science are collectively called the Spirits of Form. Anything which presents itself in space has form, and the coloured surface also gives objects form. In everything which we experience in space through the senses live the Spirits of Form, which in the Old Testament are called the Elohim.

We do, quite rightly, call the world that presents itself to the senses the world of phenomena.² This is only correct, however, in so far as at our ordinary level of consciousness we human beings perceive no more than these outer phenomena of the world. It is the “maya” of the Orient. But the moment our conscious mind wakes up and is able to perceive in images, this whole world of the senses is filled with, or, even better, transformed into, a world of flowing, moving images which also reveals the world of the Angels that is woven into it. This is also the world which inspires us when we are capable of Inspiration. It is then transformed into the world of Inspiration in which the Archangels are active. Later we also experience the world of Intuitions, when we advance from the world of the senses to the world of the Archai.

When we come to have the world of the Archai all around us, it will be possible to look back, with the help of this world, to the things we have gathered from higher hierarchies in earlier lives between death and rebirth. We then become aware of the spirits who are behind the Archai in this world. In the Bible they are called the Elohim, and in my Occult Science you’ll find them called “Spirits of Form”. Thus we are able to say that when we look out into the world through the senses, we are really looking into the world of the Spirits of Form (see table—world of the senses).

Having entered with heart and mind into the world of the senses, where we’d have to say that we move in the world of the Spirits of Form, let us now enter yet more deeply into the inner life, into a part of the inner world that is still closely bound up with the outside world, however, its function being to create an inner image of the outside world that we can bear in us as memory. In other words, we move on to the world of thought (see table).

In the first place this world of thoughts has image character. You’ll not feel the least temptation to consider the thoughts that are ordinarily alive in your conscious mind to be real. But there are hidden realities in that world, just as the realities of the Spirits of Form lie hidden in the world of the senses. In ordinary consciousness we have in the first place the fleeting inner thought forms we know so well. Again it is possible to find spiritual entities at work if we advance to higher knowledge through Imagination and Inspiration. These spiritual entities live in the phenomena that accompany the thoughts as they evolve in us.

You’ll remember what goes on in us when we are thinking; it has been described in earlier lectures. Processes are continually occurring that may be compared to the way salt dissolving in a glass of water disappears completely so that we can look right through the glass. If we let the water cool down a little it becomes cloudy and the salt slowly precipitates out. This kind of condensation process occurs when we think; it is a kind of mineralization. And the spiritual entities which are active in the element of thought are involved in this process of mineralization. We have always called them the Archai, powers of origin. We are therefore able to know that when we live in our thoughts, the Archai are with us, just as the Elohim, the Spirits of Form, are active in the processes of sensory perception.

The Spirits of Form can only be found in the outside world if we use imaginative perception. If we study that world in the normal state of consciousness we have today, we discover the “laws of nature”, which are abstractions. When we advance to imaginative perception we find not the abstract laws of nature which can be formulated as statements, but images, a life in images. These are not the kind of images of which I have spoken before, but images that cloud the images we gain when we behold the Elohim, condensing into them, as it were. There you have the Archai at work in the outside world. It is something we can observe in the outside world and also in the inner world.

At this point it may help to turn our attention not so much to the inner life but to one way in which life comes to outward expression. In our thoughts we relate to the outside world, with the secrets of that world revealed in our thoughts. Our thoughts are, however, part of the inner life. Yet they can be uttered and conveyed to others. Speech is one element in human life by which our thoughts are given outward expression.

Let us consider the world of speech. As I have said on a number of occasions, we do, of course, experience more of our world of speech than we do of the world of thought which flows into our speech. Will also enters into the element of thought, but this is something of which we have little awareness in ordinary consciousness. The human will does, however, flow strongly into our speaking, and this is something which can be realized in ordinary conscious awareness. Nevertheless, we know extraordinarily little about what really lives in our speech. In our present intellectual age, people perceive little more of what lives in speech sounds than some kind of signals referring to something else. The inner life of speech sounds has gone very much into the background in modern minds. All we can do is show the people of today that they can reflect on something which lives in the speech sounds and may be perceived to be a distinct, separate element in life.

Take a phrase like “wending our way”. The vowel sound in “wend” conveys a calmness as we proceed, with nothing to excite us. Compare this to “run” and you can feel the increased demand on your breathing in the vowel sound of this word, for your breathing goes faster when you run.³ There is a spiritual aspect to language, which has a genius of its own. Modern people are not much aware of the life in their language, but in earlier times, when people still had a real inner experience of sounds, the spirit was very much active and alive in language for them, and they were more conscious of this inner experience than of anything perceived with the senses or any part of the world of thought.

The Archangels live in the element of speech and language, just as the Archai live in our thoughts. This makes them the spirits who guide nations and who come into their own in the element of speech.

People are much more the product of their language than we think, just as they are also the product of their thoughts. Our human form comes entirely from the world around us, and we in turn pour form into the world around us through the will. Our life comes from the same region as our thoughts, which is the region of the Archai. The language we speak as members of a nation gives expression to physical qualities that limit us as human beings to a much greater degree than is the case with our thoughts. Thoughts are common to all humanity; languages differ. People are different when it comes to language; but as they belong to a large or small nation they nevertheless have their language in common with quite a number of other people.

When we go down to the level of the Angels—and this is something I have told you before—people relate to their Angels on an individual, one-to-one basis. This shows itself in two ways. Inwardly it does so when we give ourselves up to the inner life in such a way that we transcend it. In ordinary life a luciferic element may immediately come in, but still, we can transcend ourselves and have an objective inner experience by using our imagination. In many respects our imagination is as creative as language is, but it is individual; language is essentially based on an active imagination. People normally experience language only in an abstract way and are not aware of the genius of language spreading its wings. They also fail to notice that in their imagination—which becomes sheer fantasy if the luciferic element comes into it—an Angel passes through the life they have as individuals.

True poets or artists who have not grown cynical or superficial will know, of course, that a higher spiritual principle enters into them when they do creative work. This higher spiritual principle also takes us from one life to the next as our personal guardian spirit; it is our Angel. And it is certainly the thinking of our Angel which enters into our imagination when it is active in the regular way. Goethe made certain statements to indicate, without making much of it, that he was aware of an unconscious element coming in which was very real when he used his imagination.

If we do not go out of ourselves inwardly when awake but do so in sleep, entering the region where the imagination we use when awake has its roots, the principle which shows itself in our imagination when we are fully awake comes to expression at a more subconscious level in our dreams. Imagination can become sheer fantasy if a luciferic element enters into it, and in the same way our dreams may degenerate into all kinds of strange things, which we may even take for real, if influenced by ahrimanic elements. Dreams are essentially luciferic, but an ahrimanic element may enter into them. Yet when our dreams are “innocent”, as we may put it, and purely human, the Angel lives in them, the same Angel which is in us when we use our imagination and inwardly go beyond ourselves, as it were.

The world of language which is governed by the Archangel now dims down inwardly into a world that is halfway between feeling and thought: the world of ideas, or ideas with feeling quality (see table below). Imagination and dreaming dim down to become the world of feelings, and of the will element that lives in our feelings, so that we may also speak of feelings with will quality. Going further down from the Angel we come to the human I. Here we need to go out of ourselves much more intensely than we do when the Angel lives in us. This happens when we let our will impulses become actions in the outside world, as I said yesterday.

We are definitely out of ourselves when we dream, but only in mind and spirit. Nor do we go out of ourselves physically in our acts of will, but we set the physical body in motion, and the I actually has its basis in such will impulses. We are thus able to say: The will that lives in our actions leaves its mark on the outside world.

We have now gone all the way down to the physical world, where independent development comes only in acts of will. The I lives in the sum of all our actions, a sum that remains after death and on which we look back, as I have shown yesterday. Higher spiritual entities live in everything else in us—in our imagination and our dreams, in the world of speech and language, the world of thought and the contents of the senses. These higher entities are always in us. Thus we are able to look at everyday life and see how the human being relates to the cosmos.

Another way of coming close to the truths spiritual scientists are able to discover by using more highly developed faculties is the following. Take your own life in the physical world. You gain all kinds of impressions in this world and may even be able to remember them the next day. I am not saying that everybody remembers; for instance I am not sure if everybody who is sitting here tonight will be able to let the things heard in this lecture come alive in their minds tomorrow. Generally speaking, however, it is fair to say that the things we perceive around us with the senses live on in us as memories. To take us a step further, let me show this in a drawing.

The light-coloured lines are the world around us and the red line represents the human being. The world around us and anything we experience in it lives on in us as an inner world. In a sense this is quite an abstract experience to begin with, at least in so far as the outside world, which we experience merely in the way it presents itself on the outside, lives on in abstract inner experiences, thoughts and feelings which then give rise to will impulses. But we can certainly say—let us bring this to mind very exactly—that our inner life represents experiences gained between birth and death, or rather birth and the present moment.

Let us now turn our attention from those inner abstractions and images to our internal organs, which are physical and tangible—lung, heart, liver, and so on. We have these inside us as well. Out-and-out mystics will say that they are only interested in things of the soul and spirit, in the inner impressions they have of the world that surrounds them. Physical objects like those organs are far too lowly and unimportant to them. In saying so, they merely show how much they are caught up in materialism and fail to realize that seemingly material objects are in reality deeply spiritual. Our lungs and livers are just as spiritual as the inner experiences we have as a reflection of experiences gained in the outside world between birth and death. They may appear to be present as physical, material objects to our ordinary consciousness, but they are very much the fruits of the spirit.

As you sit quietly at home, the thought may come to mind: The human being has a physical body, ether body, astral body and I. This thought is something you have inside you. At one time it was something outside you.

You first came across it in a book, maybe, or in a lecture, that is, in the outside world—as in the drawing. You also have your lung, heart, liver, brain, and so on inside you, and they are in physical form. They, too, are the fruit of experiences. If we make a simple sketch of the human being and the various organs, the things inside are the outcome of everything we have lived through between death and rebirth—not their physical substance, of course, for that only comes with conception, birth, and so on, but their form and internal organization. You hear me talk, and this becomes an inner experience; in the same way your heart, lungs and liver are the outcome of experiences you had between death and rebirth. We are able to say: I have physical matter inside me that is organized in a particular way; this is the outcome of experiences I had between death and rebirth.

The soul qualities in me
are the fruit of experiences gained between birth and death.
The physical organization in me
is the fruit of my life between death and rebirth.

A materialist will of course say that all the organs in our bodies have been physically inherited from our ancestors, but he’d be utterly wrong. Physical substance is inherited, that is true, but the germ cell is not seen in its true light if it is considered in purely material terms. Fertilization is not a matter of the human individual being physically derived from the generations that went before, but of an empty space arising, with matter broken down in the human being and the whole universe built into the human being. Matter then pushes its way into the spiritual form; for lung, heart and liver are essentially spiritual forms. The organizing powers are, however, entirely shaped out of the whole universe, out of experience gained between death and rebirth. This is what we experience when our consciousness rises above the waking state and we come to the region of Archangels and Angels in the way I have described. Between death and rebirth human beings experience consciously, or rather in a state of super consciousness, the things which they then build into their organs.

Our organs are built in accord with our karma, which comes from our earlier lives on earth. It may seem that purely physical processes occur as generation succeeds generation, but in fact these are processes brought about by the whole universe.

The following is an analogy I tend to use when small-minded materialists come and say: “Do not speak to us of the whole universe being involved as a human being develops in the womb, and whatever you do, don’t take us out into the universe; kindly speak of the germ plasma continuing on through the generations.” We can deal with this by saying: Someone has a magnetic needle which points north and south. Someone else will come and say: “There are crazy physicists who say the whole earth is a magnet and the magnetic south pole of the earth is attracting this pole of the needle. But in fact the reasons for the magnetic needle pointing north and south lie in the needle itself. The earth has nothing to do with it!” This is more or less the kind of thing modern biologists are saying about the germ cell. They look only at the germ cell. But just as the whole earth is active in a magnetic needle, so the whole universe is active in the creation of the embryo. The part which the human being plays in this is, of course, at an unconscious level.

Seen in this light, the human individual is with the whole of his being connected with a material and a spiritual universe. We say: We make the outside world our inner world when we perceive it in ordinary conscious experience. Yesterday I said, from a certain point of view: When a human being goes through the gate of death, inner becomes outer, and outer becomes inner. Today I presented a different point of view to show that the way we have to approach anything that comes before birth, or conception, is to look for our inner physical life and the processes that prepare it in the outside world during life between death and rebirth: The outer becomes inner. Something we experience as spread out through the whole universe becomes deeply unconscious experience in our organs.

The nature of our internal organs is truly such that a whole cosmos is alive in them. If we merely consider those organs the way they are presented in ordinary anatomy and physiology, this is maya to a much higher degree than the maya we face in the world around us.

Looking into the world of the senses, I said, we can see as far as the Elohim. Looking down into the inner physical body, we have to go higher to find the reality that lives in us and creates our organs. You’ll remember that in my Occult Science higher entities are mentioned who are above the Spirits of Form. These do not only exist outside human beings but are also active inside them. We learn about them from the Archai when between death and rebirth we raise our level of consciousness to theirs and learn things from them which we then pour into our organization. We truly carry the world of the hierarchies through life in the way we are made inside. Today these things can be investigated. In older times people knew about them out of an instinctive clairvoyant consciousness. Those were the times when it was said that the human organism is a temple of the gods, and people sought to gain insight into the whole world by interpreting the inner human microcosm.

Isn’t it true that we know about the world which has been our own for as long as we have had conscious awareness here on earth from memory? We are able to reflect on everything we are able to recall from memory. We look inwards and find that the world we have known outside is inside ourselves, and we realize that the outside life has entered into the images we have inside us. Looking back in memory we understand again what we experienced before. Now if we look at our physical organization and understand it, we also understand the cosmic process. Our memories let us understand life’s experiences. Our whole human organization lets us understand the cosmic process, if we know how to look at it. And this is what anthroposophy is all about—to understand the human being in every way.

It means that anthroposophy is also cosmosophy, for just as we bring our life back to mind when we remember, so we bring the whole cosmic process, cosmosophy, to mind when we gain insight through anthroposophy. The two cannot be seen apart. Cosmosophy and anthroposophy belong together. The human being is to be found in the world, and the world in the human being.

This is also why it is not anthropomorphism to speak of human evolution in the same breath as evolution through Saturn, Sun, Moon and so on in my Occult Science. Cosmic evolution is something that is given, and human evolution is something that is given, for the further we penetrate the secrets of existence, the more do cosmos and human being come together; the more does it become apparent that the separation between cosmos and human being that exists for us on earth is mere maya. The human being belongs to the cosmos, and the cosmos to the human being, and each is to be found in the other.

• 1. Rudolf Steiner, The Inner Nature of Man and the Life between Death and a New Birth. Eight lectures given in Vienna in April 1914. English by A. Meuss. Bristol, Rudolf Steiner Press 1994.
• 2. “Phenomenon”, defined as “an immediate object of perception; something of which the senses or the mind take note directly”, derives from the Greek verb for “to shine, to appear”, which is also reflected in the German word for it—Erscheinung. Translator.
• 3. The two German words Rudolf Steiner was comparing were gehen and laufen. He went into considerable detail and this has been shortened. Translator.

If we are to understand the way in which a scientific world view has been introduced into the mentality of the present day, we must turn to the results of the study of human evolution. But then this history of development must be considered in a style such as is attempted here in this lecture. And therein our consideration should culminate, to penetrate this integration of scientific thinking into the human state of mind.

We have seen that in successive epochs, the whole inner soul condition of people has also metamorphosed, and it now behooves us to look a little more closely at the soul condition at that turning point in human civilization that is marked by the advent of Christianity.

If one wants to study the state of mind that was prevalent in the Chaldean and Egyptian peoples, in particular, then, as I have already indicated, there is no other way to do so than to ascend in the soul to the imaginative view, to the inspired view, and so on. Regarding this imaginative insight, which I have characterized from various perspectives during these evenings, I only have to add the following: When a person consciously ascends to the state of imaginative knowledge, thus living in a consciousness of images that leads him to images of spiritual realities before his soul, then his entire introspection is transformed. His whole view of himself changes, and initially his view of the external world around him also changes. The inner vision becomes such that one does not, for example, advance to a more soul-like content through imaginative visualization, if one understands by soul-like content what is known from ordinary life experience. One could say that under the influence of imaginative visualization, inner vision transforms what is in the waking, conscious human being into something more concrete than the soul is in its ordinary experience. The strange thing is that the mystical nebulosity that some people expect when they hear about introspection does not arise, nor does what some mystics in the ordinary sense produce in the form of fantastic images of the human interior illuminated by the divine. But through true introspection, a person advances to get to know his or her organism, his or her organization, and in doing so, he or she gets to know the profound significance of the individual organs of his or her organism. He learns to recognize the role that the heart, lungs and other organs play in the organism, and thus he comes to know precisely that which the nebulous mystic does not seek, which he considers to be a lowly material thing. He thus attains a true transparency of his own organism by advancing to imaginative knowledge.

Those who then come to inspired knowledge realize that what they have come to know through the path of imagination is something more material, one might say, than the abstract that one usually mental content when one speaks of the external, seemingly sensory current of inheritance, which in reality is born out of the deeper-lying spiritual, that therefore what organizes the individual is born out of the spiritual. This teaches us an extraordinarily significant fact. Basically, we can understand the physical human being as a whole, as we see him before us, as a being that must have passed through the ancestors, through the hereditary current. But if we stop at this external, scientific view, which wants to trace everything back to heredity, we will not come to an understanding of the details of this organism. This may appear paradoxical to some, but it is so. Our organs as individuals are formed out of the spirit, only the whole configuration of the human being, as he appears to us in the sensory world, had to go through physical inheritance in order to come about as a synthesis of the individual organs. So we actually arrive at a spiritual-scientific anatomy and physiology, which, however, at the same time appears as a result of spiritual knowledge that lies deeper and is attained through inspiration. So we can say that if we consciously struggle to such knowledge through imagination and inspiration, we get to know the human being in a different way. But we also get to know the external world in a different way.

For the person who struggles upwards through imagination and inspiration – I have already hinted at this in the lectures in Dornach last fall on the “Limits of Knowledge of Nature” – for the person who struggles in this way to attain supersensible knowledge, the assumption that atoms lie behind sense phenomena can no longer be accepted. No matter whether we look at it from the older sense, where we assumed more elastic or even more rigid atoms, or from the present point of view, where we speak more of ions or electrons, no matter what kind of atomism it is, the assumption of such atoms, which are supposed to constitute matter, which are supposed to represent the substantiality of the material, this assumption loses its meaning. It appears simply as a non-entity. And what remains of the sense world, I once wanted to characterize in the third volume of my edition of Goethe's scientific writings, where I said: Everything that can be seen in the outside world and in which one has to immerse oneself in order to recognize it, are the contents of sensory perception, are the phenomena themselves. For if one looks behind phenomena with a spiritual-scientific view, one does not find atoms in the sense of physicists or physiologists, but one finds essential spiritual substance. The outer world is constituted by spiritual substance, and not, for instance, by those forces which we are accustomed to take as the basis of our calculations. These are not, therefore, the central forces which are usually assumed by mathematical physics to represent the constitution of matter. Instead, a more spiritual way of looking at things drives us outwards to the spirit, but inwards to an understanding that is initially material. Today, as we ascend from our present historical standpoint, which has been achieved by humanity, to such insights, we do so fully consciously. We survey the step we are taking; we know that as our knowledge metamorphoses, the external world is spiritualized for us, the inner world is materialized. And we thus grasp a now also metamorphosed image of the world in which we are and which we ourselves are. We then relate this image, which we receive, to our ordinary view, which lives in concepts of the mind; we express it through such concepts of the mind, and this makes us consciously live in one and the other view of the world. This consciousness was lacking in people until the 8th century BC, until the end of that period of time that I have characterized as the Egyptian-Chaldean one during these evenings. But in return they had the possibility to gain something instinctively, to which we can only work towards again consciously through inner methodology, spiritual scientific methodology. They did not have the ability to penetrate with concepts what they saw instinctively. Intellectualism was still foreign to them, but images stood before their soul without them first having to bring them about in full consciousness, as we have to do it today, and so the external world was spiritual to them. The further we go back in human development, the clearer this becomes.

If we go back to the times for which historical documents still exist, we do find a kind of decline in what once lived in these peoples. We find that the spiritual aspect of the external world had been debased to the point of demonism, and we therefore find demonic forces behind the phenomena of the senses everywhere. But this was only the echo of an ancient spiritual view that was still present in the ages I have called “Primitive Persian” and “Primitive Indian”. And further, these people instinctively had the view that in them, as soul, the organs themselves lived, so that they spoke of the soul precisely when they were educated personalities in these ancient peoples, as of the internal organs and thought of the soul as composed through the interaction of these internal organs. When we read the sayings of the ancients about the heart, liver, kidneys and the like, we do not have to imagine the fantasy that is found, for example, in Wundt's philosophy, but we have to understand them with the state of mind that we can achieve in imaginative, inspired knowledge. Only then will we understand what is meant by such strange sayings, handed down from ancient times, about the heart, liver and suchlike.

But we must also be clear about the spiritual condition of these ancient peoples. This spiritual condition was such that people saw spiritual things in the world outside, actually material things within, but that they had to be awake when they saw the outside world, while they slept and dreamed when they wanted to perceive their inner selves. I have already hinted at this for the Egyptians, hence the introduction of temple sleep. The sick person was brought to the temple, was brought to sleep; he then had to tell his dreams. The priests, who were taught these things, who knew that what mattered more than the content of the dream was the dramatic course of the dream. To interpret its content would have been superstition. But that was what mattered, whether some dark thing in the dream was followed by a light one or vice versa, and whether the dream had to refer to states of fear or joy and the like. It was the drama of the dream that mattered, and from this drama it then became clear how one organ or another could become diseased, and, as I indicated, it even revealed the remedy. That is the reality of what was later called the Egyptian temple sleep.

These things then passed into decadence, and when studied in their decadent state, they no longer present themselves as they were in the best times of ancient civilization; this should be fully understood. We may say, then, that in the waking state these ancient peoples had a kind of pictorial consciousness, not yet the intellectual consciousness that lives in abstract mental representations. With this pictorial consciousness they perceived a spiritual outer world, which for them was as underlying the sense world as causality and effect were later regarded as underlying the sense world. While these ancient peoples were in a subdued state of consciousness in their instinctive experiences at that time, their dreams were all the more vivid, and it was in the images of their dreams that they perceived their inner selves. And the scholars in the sense of that time were able to interpret these dream images in terms of the inner self, but actually in terms of its materiality.

The big change that occurred around the middle of the 8th century BC was that people increasingly developed the ability to think intellectually. At first, this intellectuality was not yet as we have it today, where we can, as it were, also separate ourselves from the outside world, close our eyes, make all our senses inactive and then set our minds in motion. This inward active work of the mind was not yet there. But by looking at the outside world in images, a kind of mind was revealed at the same time, and by looking through the world of images in dreams, it was also interspersed with this mind in memory. One can say that the mind as an ability only entered into human development around the middle of the 8th century BC.

If you study the old documents from this point of view, you will get along everywhere. The fact that people like Jeremiah or similar, who want to describe Chaldean antiquity, encounter contradictions everywhere, stems from the fact that they believe that what these Chaldeans had achieved had already been created by the actively working mind and not by the directly perceived world of images. If one assumes that the entire Chaldean culture was one that arose through the perception of images, then one assumes that the peculiar inwardness that the Egyptians developed, which was then lived out in their mythology, but also lived out in the explanations of the Book of the Dead, for example, if you take all this together and know that the interior once revealed itself in dreamy inner perception, then you only begin to understand what it is all about.

As I have always indicated, one must proceed to the consideration of the state of mind of those times. The activation of the intellect begins much later, it actually begins – and this is clearly shown in the development of the older Greek philosophy – it begins first as a kind of perception that also perceives the concepts of the intellect, the ideas in the sense things. One does not understand Thales, Heraclitus, Anaximenes and so on, especially not Anaxagoras with his vodg (nous); one does not understand the philosophy that Nietzsche called 'Philosophy in the Tragic Age of the Greeks' if one does not know that they did not yet ascribe to the human being: “There sits the mind, you are active in your mind,” but rather they painted the world, they perceived the concepts of the mind in the things they saw in the way they perceived the colors. And in a certain respect, Plato's Theory of Ideas can only be understood without contradiction from this point of view, and even more so the individual specifics, such as Hippocrates' medicine. This can only be understood if one knows that there was not a detached mind, but rather how things outside revealed themselves through colors, so they also revealed themselves in their conceptual context. Just as we today see the world of sense as a colored carpet, so did they see it in that time in the web of thought. Thus, of course, the relationship of the inner and the outer in the Egyptians was quite different than it later became.

Among the Chaldeans it was still the case that man in a certain sense counted himself entirely towards the outer world. For when he was awake and based the world of the senses on spiritual causality, he actually saw his own likeness in all things of nature. He suspected the soul in himself, as he sensed the spiritual behind the things of the senses. And when he was in a dream, he saw his own inner being in images, one might say, as in an external world. This whole state of mind made him feel that he was a member of the world in the most eminent sense. But this also meant that the way he thought about his connection with the world was different from the way we think about it now.

Now we are immersed in a world view that must be overcome. We are immersed in a world view that actually leaves a deep chasm between natural events and the order in which we are immersed through our human morality, through our moral views and through our religious convictions.

When people look at nature today, they understand natural processes through the so-called laws of nature. These laws are not colored by anything moral, which is precisely what people seek in them. It seems to man today as a paradoxical superstition, and, when it is a matter of a view of nature, rightly so, to assume, for example, that lightning shoots out of the clouds in a way that has to be explained morally and the like. But on the other hand, man also feels as if he has been torn away from the whole order of the world when he is supposed to apply the standard of the moral to his own actions. And a more recent world view has increasingly come to see only natural necessity out there in the world, and in man, only a kind of moral necessity. But today's view of life cannot find a connection between this inner moral-religious order and the outer natural order. It was quite different in those times when people saw themselves and their environment as I have just described. There was no such contradiction between morality and natural necessity. If we look at the majority of ancient peoples, we find that they all relate to the world in such a way that they think of their own soul destinies as subject to a certain natural order, that they think of what emerges from their own soul as emerging, so to speak, from the same power that they think of thunder and lightning as emerging from. There was only one nation that formed a remarkable exception, if we may call it that, which experienced the inner world in a different way, and that is the Hebrew, the Jewish nation. Anyone who has an affinity for it will find a tremendous difference between the Jewish creation story of the Bible, the Old Testament, and all the other creation stories. The other creation stories must be viewed from the perspective of an inseparable natural order and morality. The Jewish-Hebrew creation story is characterized precisely by the fact that it is basically devoid of any natural worldview. This is what distinguished the Jewish people from the surrounding peoples of antiquity. The Jewish people related everything to the one God. But the forces that worked through this God in the world, they described it, albeit in a different way than later conceptions, but basically as moral, that is, as arising from the will of Yahweh. And basically, when anything happened, be it in the natural world or through man, the member of the ancient Hebrew people could only answer: It happens because Yahweh wills it. One could say that the spiritual state of this Jewish people is as if the world around them existed only as a world for the senses, as if nothing spiritual or soulful were revealed from this world, as it was for the other, pagan nations. On the other hand, there was a particularly vivid perception of the human interior, and it was through this perception of the human interior that the Jewish people came to their monotheistic religion, to their religion of Yahweh. And everything that in ancient times led to and tended towards a certain insensitivity to the outside world, but on the other hand to an emphasis on what one perceives from within, all this can basically be traced back to the influence of the Hebrew people.

One might say that the ancient pagan peoples were such that they had a spiritual view of nature and also applied this spiritual view of nature to man as such. They saw the things of nature and traced them back to spiritual causes. They recognized the world through wisdom, in that wisdom is understood as that which the spiritual in the human soul takes in. The Jews had no organ for this wisdom in the world, but for that they had something else for special reasons, which there is no time to describe now. I once presented this in an internal lecture cycle in Kristiania, which I gave on the souls of nations. In contrast to the other nations, especially the Egyptians, who instinctively saw the inner life of man in dream images and dream imaginings, the Jews had developed a kind of intellectuality from their own inner life long before the dawn of intellectuality in the middle of the 8th century BC, albeit one-sidedly and prematurely. With the older Greek thinkers, we see how they receive intellectuality by observing nature. A living world view, as developed by Heraclitus, for whom basically the whole world is becoming, but for whom becoming is symbolized more than anything by fire. Such a living world view can only come about if the human being feels their way completely into the fire, so to speak, experiences the inner nature of the fire and simultaneously experiences the conceptual, the imaginative. While the outer, sensual redness of the fire is being perceived, the conceptual, intellectual element is perceived in the outer world. For the civilization represented by the Greeks, it is the case that the intellectual element is born for human beings in the middle of the 8th century BC. For the Hebrew people, it was already born earlier. For the Hebrew people, it was the case that they did not perceive the intellectual in the outside world, but that they perceived what is spiritual and intellectual within, not through dream images like the Egyptians, and already in a certain abstractness. And that led them to their monotheism. This led them, one might say, to moralize the whole world, to trace everything back to the will of Yahweh, to trace it back to the fact that Yahweh wills it. And it is perhaps a polar opposite when we take some Greek sage like Anaxagoras and see that he speaks of the world mind as the Nus, in a sense perceiving the mind outside in the world objectified, and when we speak of a Jewish scholar of antiquity who feels this mind rising from his inner being and thereby experiences the revelation of Yahweh. Even if you take something like the burning bush revelation to Moses, you will have to think about it differently according to the whole nature of the presentation, just as you have to think about a philosophical statement by Anaxagoras. What Moses perceives externally is only a stimulus. What he actually perceives arises from within him. Hence the remarkable abstractness with which everything appears, which is the actual content of this Hebrew antiquity. But this gave a tendency to the development of mankind that leads more away from nature. In Greek culture, we see man's living into nature in such a way that he gives birth to the intellect out of nature. In Judaism, we see an experience of the human inner being at an early stage. And it was from this tendency that the declining Greek culture, which had already begun to decline, came to replace Platonism, for example, with Neoplatonism, which represents an abstract mysticism, a living into an unintelligible, abstract spiritual world. We are already in the centuries of the decline of the Greek people. External observation has already turned inwards. One might say that the intellect, which the Greeks first discovered in the external world, has overwhelmed their inner being. And Plotinus, Jamblichus, Ammonius Sakkas, they are men who have devoted themselves entirely to the un-sensuous, the spiritual, who live entirely in this un-sensuous, spiritual, and who only call a man a true man when he can experience this un-sensuous, spiritual.

In certain regions of the Orient, however, something has been preserved that does not think the inner, the soul, in such an abstract way as the later Greeks did, for example in Neoplatonism, but which still represents an resonance of the inner perception of the organs and which also does not represent the external world in the way that the Greek Democritus began to imagine it through material atoms, but which presented the basis of the external, the sensual, as a spiritual world. And again and again, the tendencies arose from the East, from what was brought in by the Hebrew influence, to counter something. One only needs to study Philo, who lived at the beginning of the first century AD, to see this Hebrew influence. More and more, a reaction is spreading from certain areas of Asia against this internalization, against this complete absorption in the abstract interior.

In more recent times, it was the most unfortunate idea to simply interpret the biblical story of creation as a representation of symbols of external geological periods. That is certainly not what it is, but rather it is the representation of what one can see about the whole course of world development if one only allows the inner being of the human being to work. It is just that the Hebrew sages were such that they still saw what arose in their inner being in concrete terms, that they saw a great variety and diversity in it. What they saw as inner reality had already degenerated into a symbol in Philo's work, and in Neo-Platonism it had become completely abstract. And even if there is something sublime and magnificent about being transported into the otherworldliness of Plotinus and Jamblichus, on the other hand it means that in this ecstasy, in the purely abstract supersensible, the natural order, the whole view of nature, is lost. As I said, there had always been reactions from individual regions of Asia against this complete internalization of the human being, whereby he lost all inner imagery, whereby the images lost their contours, the imaginations became blurred and the human being finally dissolved into the abstract, into the pure, into the supersensible world, which could not be characterized by anything.

Now, into this time, in which such struggles took place, in which old worldviews still survived, as I characterized it today and yesterday, but in which the development of intellectuality is taking place more and more, into this time, as you know, the emergence of Christianity fell. The emergence of Christianity has a profound significance for the later emergence of natural science. But this significance can only be understood if we first ask ourselves: Whatever it was that came into the world through Christianity, it could only understand the world of that time from its own ideas. Whatever may have happened in Palestine, the people of that time had to understand it first from their own point of view.

Let us say, then, that somewhere over in Asia there sat a man who still had some echo of the more materialistic inner vision and of the spiritualized outer world. In the event of Golgotha he must have seen something that corresponded to his world-view. He had to explain it from the standpoint of his world-view. If anyone lived in Neoplatonism or Plotinusm, that is, in a world-view that saw all imaginations already with blurred contours and finally allowed everything to become blurred in the One, he translated everything he learned about the Mystery of Golgotha into such an internalized view of the world. He would say to himself, for example: “The highest that I can attain, even if I withdraw from all these sensory perceptions, when I allow only my inner being to prevail and unite myself with the All-One, then the Christ arises in me as this highest in my inner being. I experience the Christ impulse in this world-enraptured state.” This is how a Neoplatonic philosopher might express himself. Someone who still retained something of the old world view, as I have described it today, said to himself: In Christ, a spiritual element from the cosmos was united with a human element. And since he saw in a certain respect what lived in the organs of man more materially than soul, this special union of the spiritual Christ with the man Jesus became a problem for him. That is why the problem of the union of Christ with Jesus arises so often in the East. In those days, when humanity had only been experiencing intellectual development for seven and a half centuries, the Mystery of Golgotha was often understood as one could understand it, and one must distinguish what the individual said from what actually happened, what broke in as an objective event in the development of humanity, the event of Golgotha.

But let us first see, and then return to it, how these different views appeared, some of which had come down to us from ancient, unintellectual times, or had developed under the influence of the Hebrew element. Let us see how they appeared in the following centuries. One would like to say that what had happened in the development of mankind seems obvious – if I use the term symbolically – when one looks at the 4th century AD and, for example, at an event such as the founding of Constantinople by the Emperor Constantine, who, after all, elevated Christianity to the status of the official religion of the Roman Empire. Constantine founds Constantinople. We are thus in the 4th century AD. And one can say that the way this Constantine behaved when founding Constantinople would never have been the way any personality in ancient times would have behaved when founding any city. In those older times, everything had emerged from a more instinctive source. There is no doubt that everything that has come down to us about Constantine shows that he had the idea that the old opinions were true, which pointed to the fall of Rome. He therefore did not want to keep Rome as the capital. It must be emphasized that when people thought of the fall of Rome, they naturally thought primarily of the fall of the Roman Empire. That Rome could no longer remain the center of the world in the same way as it had been in the past was something that was intensively alive as an opinion at the time. But Constantine did not want the empire to perish with it. Now there was an old view that in the development of humanity, one lives in a kind of cycle. Therefore, already in older times, still in the times of pagan Rome, the thought arose to rebuild the city of T'roJa, from which, as legend also testifies, the founding of Rome is derived. One wanted to return to the origin again. Constantine did not go as far as Asia Minor, but he did move towards the East, and founded Constantinople, as we know from tradition, entirely based on the idea that world development must move back towards its origin. And he was, so to speak, intent on bringing as much as possible into this Constantinople that he believed was still viable. In the 4th century AD, Christianity was more viable than today's society often assumes. One only needs to think of such representations as, for example, Tertullianus gives, who, one would like to say, in a kind of petition, turns to the Roman emperor, one may tolerate the Christians, because what would help it if one did not tolerate them; half of the inhabitants of all cities are Christians, and they are therefore intolerant. We also know from pagan Roman writers that Christianity spread rapidly at that time. We know that basically the judgment weighed on many souls, that Christianity could not be stopped after all. In the time of Diocletian, the Romans sighed that one could kill a few hundred people, a few thousand people, but one could not kill half the population of the empire. This may be a somewhat exaggerated way of putting it, but it is based on the fact that Christianity spread relatively quickly in the first few centuries. Constantine saw through the sustaining power of Christianity, and that is why he wanted to combine what came from ancient times with what was now new. One might say that never before has anything in world history been as symptomatically significant as the foundation stone laying celebration that Constantine celebrated when founding Constantinople, where he had the porphyry column, to which the luck of Rome seemed tied, brought over to Constantinople with great difficulty. When they wanted to bring the porphyry column into the new city, they had to transport it over a swampy area and first had to lay iron rails for it, which is where the expression “The Iron Gate” comes from, which has been preserved to this day in the name “The Gate”. He had this porphyry column erected, but placed a statue of Apollo from Ilion on top of it. He had pieces of wood from the cross of Christ hidden in this statue of Apollo, which his mother Helena had brought from Jerusalem, and he surrounded the statue of Apollo with a kind of sunburst; in it were thorns from the crown of thorns, which he had also brought from Palestine.

You can see that what emerged from ancient times was supposed to converge with what was there as a new, fruitful element. But Constantine apparently did not believe that what was to be continued could be continued in Rome. The Palladium, which was said to have been brought from Troy to Rome, was also transferred to Constantinople and hidden in a place unknown to the outside world. But the legend remained: This Palladium was said to have been transferred twice, once from Asia to Rome, and the second time from Rome to Constantinople. The third time it would be transferred from Constantinople to the capital of the Slavs, and when this happened, a new period of world development would begin. This belief inspired many people in the European East. This view also still lived in those who were complicit in the planning of the last outbreak of war in 1914. The saga of the three relocations of the palladium is symptomatic. But in this saga there is an awareness of the progress of human development.

When we look at all this, does it not give us the impression of an awareness, of a rationality that must seem deeply significant when we consider that ancient mythological motifs and ancient pictorial motifs are combined by Constantine in a purely rational way, one might say with tremendous logic, and that this logic is to become the world-dominating logic? If we look at the particular state of mind of this Constantine, we can see how, at this time, rationality is already at a high level, but at the same time it is still so interwoven with the objective external world. I would say that there is still much of the Greek way of using reason in this. The Greeks perceived the intellect, the Nus, at the same time as the external world, as one perceives colors. They had also effectively imagined the Nus, the intellect, in history. Konstantin believes that he can only make his subjective intellect effective if he completely encloses it in objective processes: the transfer of the porphyry column, the transfer of the wood of the cross and the crown of thorns. Konstantin weaves history into his images through reason. Reason still lives in the external; it only feels real when it lives in the external. We see such a legend as that of the Palladium, I would like to say, transferred into the greatest sobriety.

It was indeed a remarkable time, this 4th century AD, and one realizes what is significant and essential about this epoch when one considers what continued into the later Middle Ages. Take just one example: the struggle of later ages between nominalism and realism. For the scholastics of the thirteenth century, realism was still, for example, the view that the perceptions of external nature have a reality in themselves. The nominalists, who saw in ideas only abstract names, not something as real as colors or sounds, rebelled against this, so that the great dispute arose between realism and nominalism. In realism, something survived from that view, which was quite natural in Greek thought. A Greek thinker could not help being a realist because he perceived his concepts of understanding just as he perceived colors. But what we still find connected with the objective external world in Constantine, one might say the realizing mind, was more and more taken up into the human being, more and more interwoven with inner activity. The human being became more and more obsessed with the mind. In this way he drew this intellect out of the external world for his own view. That realism arose in the Middle Ages had a special reason, which we shall become acquainted with tomorrow; it was not merely an echo of ancient Greece, but lay in the special relation of the intruding Germanic peoples to what had been handed down from antiquity.

But what nominalism was, it propagated itself in such a way that what had previously been experienced as understanding together with the external world of the senses was now experienced in the abstract. I would like to say that people were educated for this nominalism in that Latin was propagated into the Middle Ages as an old, dead language that no longer lived where one was in contact with the external world, but only lived for that spiritual world that Plotinus had led up into the abstract, into the All-One, into the supersensible. One would like to say that this supersensory should increasingly take hold of people, and for those who had a higher education, the Latin language, which had become a dead, abstract language, should be the means of education to this abstractness, to this detachment from the outer world. If we consider this in relation to later times, we can appreciate what was actually alive in this fourth century A.D.

Now we see again a deeply significant turning point in the development of humanity at the beginning of the 15th century. One need only delve into old writings about nature that date back to the 10th and 11th centuries, and one will find: there it is indeed the case that people, by living in the mind, perceive this mind as something abstracted, but perceive it as if it possessed them, as if it were a real element within them. The nominalists also do not see the mind outside in the things, they see in the representations mere names, namely in the summarizing representations; but in the experience of the representations they see a real power. This comes to an end in the consciousness of the beginning of the 15th century. The period in which we still live entirely within it and which we recognize when we ask ourselves: What has reason become for us? In this time, which loves exclusivity so much, which takes such pleasure in its own absoluteness, in this time one looks down very haughtily on earlier periods. Anyone who reads what was written in the 10th and 11th centuries today considers it childish. But if you immerse yourself in it from a spiritual science point of view, you will not want to return to it either, but you will not consider it childish, but rather as a different view. He notices that although the human being is active with the intellect, he still thinks of the intellect as united with things, at least in the process of cognition. From the 15th century onwards, this changes. Man is no longer aware that forces are at work in him as he reflects; he no longer feels possessed by the intellect, but feels entirely as the being that brings about the understanding itself. We no longer have the intellect as a real power, but only as that which provides us with images of the external world, images, shadows of what the intellect used to be. That which has emerged is the characteristic of the new age. Internalization has progressed so far that man no longer feels as if he were driven by something, as if logic were working in him, but he feels that the concept of the mind has become quite shadowy. He no longer feels that something inside is pushing and driving. Man of the 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, 14th century still felt that. That came to an end in the 15th century. With that, the age of the development of actual human consciousness begins. Man could only become fully aware of his own nature by no longer feeling the intellect as something he is inwardly possessed by, in relation to which he must say, as was said much more often in the old days than one might think: “It thinks in me,” but rather he becomes the one who says, “I think.” He ascends to his fully conscious self-awareness. The consciousness soul develops, while in the age from the middle of the 8th century BC to the beginning of the 15th century the mind soul had developed. Look it up, all the concepts we have today, including the concepts of evolution, the concepts of inheritance and so on, all the concepts, all the ideas we have, they come from the time before the 15th century. We have not acquired any new concepts. Today, as a humanities scholar, one feels how difficult it is to form words, even in an elementary way, when one is no longer satisfied with what the words actually express according to the concepts that were developed up to the 15th century. We are living on the shadows of the old concepts and have indeed been able to enter into the outer nature in a wonderful way in the scientific age by holding on to the shadows of earlier concepts.

It is remarkable when one looks at certain personalities from this point of view. In the course of the 19th century, a thinker emerged who has not been sufficiently appreciated. I have tried to describe his nature in the third chapter of my book 'Von Seelenrätseln': Franz Brentano. He is, I would say, the most characteristic of a whole series. One can study many such personalities. Franz Brentano becomes acquainted with the newer natural science. He takes in the scientific facts as a matter of course, along with the concepts. But at the same time, he comes from a pious family, has a pious upbringing, and wants to come to terms with the scientific concepts. He cannot help but ask himself: What about these concepts that live in me when I grasp the scientific facts? I am talking about heredity, about development, about metamorphosis, what about these concepts? And he is led to his extraordinarily ingenious treatise on Aristotle, in that he orients himself to Aristotle, thus having to find his way back to the period that began in the 8th century BC and ended in the first third of the 15th century. And if we want to understand the peculiar concepts that prevail in our time period, then we must always return to these previous time periods.

Franz Brentano once gave a lecture on jurisprudence. In this lecture on jurisprudence he wanted to make clear how man, as a soul and spiritual being, relates to the external world. He wanted to have a concept for this relationship of man to the external world; he wanted to be able to say to himself in other words: How does an idea relate to the external world? He resorted to the term “intentional,” which he found developed by the scholastics of the Middle Ages as a concept of the period that preceded ours. And so we must always go back with our concepts. It is a delusion to believe that concepts arose after the 15th century. We live in a shadow world of concepts, not in a world of conceptual reality. The period before 1400 is the age in which the conceptual reality, the concept, the intellectual as a real factor within, was formed. We have overcome this since the 15th century. We have replaced it with self-awareness. This was still in the background for the Greeks; it had something shadowy for them. They were primarily inhabited by the intellectual, but it lived as a real thing, as I have described.

I would say that humanity is educated, as it were, through the inner working of spiritual forces on these intellectual abilities. And this education lasts from the 8th century BC to the 15th century. And if you ask for the middle of this period, you will find: the 4th century AD is the middle. That is when the decision is made. Until then, it goes up, until then the power that drives the mind into the soul, so to speak, impels man. Then this power ebbs away, and gradually the mind becomes shadowy. And with the foundation of Constantine, one can see this change taking place from living in the full reality with the mind, as one lived with the old images in the full reality, so that one was no different from the external world. But already in man lives also the striving back to the going out from the world, in that old myth pictures are interwoven as with sober reason in the constant foundation. In such reversals one sees what lives in the evolution of mankind.

And now we can ask ourselves: did that which lived as reason, which then lived in Roman sobriety, which basically reduced all gods to mere external symbols for concepts of the state and the like, or for natural phenomena, , was there not something in what emerged, in what developed, something like a backward reaching effect of the Hebrew element, which had been completely cut off from outer nature and brought the inner being from earlier times? I would like to say that this backward movement, by clinging to the old pictorial quality, the Chaldean-Egyptian pictorial quality, to the unpictorial quality of the mystical contemplation of the All-One, was realized in the south of Europe, in the north of Africa, in the Near East. One had to enter this region, not to develop it convulsively, but to be able to fully experience the intellect within it. It was the preparation for the intellect, and one cannot understand this age if one does not grasp the interweaving of this mysticism at the end of antiquity, this mysticism that accompanied the fall of the Roman Empire and the rise of the intellect.

But just look at this entire development. In the south, the most educated part of the population convulsively moved towards the supersensory, towards the imageless, towards merging with the soul in the All-One, in order to arrive at understanding. There, the further development of understanding, even in language, was fueled by the dead language of Latin. But the whole thing had arisen one-sidedly. The whole thing had come about because humanity in the south had, as it were, raised itself above nature, and this raising above nature had already been prepared for in a social phenomenon. You cannot conceive of this whole process as anything other than a population of the upper classes emerging on the broad basis of a slave population, because only these upper classes can develop such a social milieu that Plotinism becomes possible, that this non-sensual, supersensual, this exclusion from the natural, becomes a basic disposition of the soul. But then the intellect can only absorb this, one might say, with this soul-spirituality distilled out of the fullness of humanity. It developed in southern Europe, it was not permeated by a sufficiently intense power to sustain the robust Roman Empire, it was permeated by the power that Egyptian hermits could generate, but which could not sustain the robust Roman Empire. The Roman Empire could only be inspired by this remoteness from the world, could only educate the mind, but could only be carried by the upper ten thousand, who were socially supported. The people could not grasp it, not all of humanity. So the return to nature had to be made again. Constantine wanted to start a return journey. He started the return journey to Constantinople. But that was only done with the intellect. Another return journey was started. This return journey consisted of the path that had to be taken by the Romans - even if I am now presenting it somewhat from the other side - to the peoples who brought them fresh blood and nature, to the Germanic peoples coming down from the north. There was robustness there, and reason could be absorbed with the blood, with the natural. Caesar already fought against Pompey with Germanic hordes. All the victories of the Roman imperial period were won with Germanic mercenary hordes. And alongside the, I would say, abstract act of founding Constantinople, there is the other, concrete act of Constantine, where he defeated Maxentius with Germanic-British, Germanic-Gallic and purely Germanic people.

The abstract element that had been approached could have been created by the state of mind of the Egyptian hermits, the state of mind of those who withdrew to Monte Cassino, but it was not enough to carry the robust world history. What had been left behind at an earlier stage had to intervene. The peoples who descended had remained behind by about a whole period. They still had the freshness that had already existed in an earlier, higher flowering, but had at least still been freshly lived in the 12th, 13th, 14th centuries BC in Greece and the Near East. The inner soul power, willpower and emotionality that lived there was carried in the Germanic element to Romanism. And now a people with its whole humanity took up what had been developed in the south at an abstract level. And in this taking up lies the possibility of bringing realism into it again, of bringing reality into that which had become uninstinctive, unreal and could therefore only lead to the downfall of the Roman Empire. Intensive power, reality was brought into the process of human evolution. This prepared the way for what led the human being who had come to understanding, that is, to his inwardness and then to the consciousness soul, in which he had only the shadow of understanding, back to what he had lost from mind: to nature. The rise of the consciousness soul is connected with the burgeoning of the view of nature. We will talk about how to visualize this in more detail tomorrow.

Yesterday I undertook to give you a sort of report on the events that took place in Stuttgart. I went on to say that I would like to convey something of the substance of the lectures I delivered there. So I will do that today, and tomorrow try to add further comment supplementing yesterday's report.

The first lecture on Tuesday was conceived as a response to a quite definite need that had developed and made itself clearly felt during the discussions of Sunday, Monday and Tuesday; they have been described to you at least from the standpoint of the mood that prevailed there. The need I refer to was for a survey of the essentials of community building. Community building by human beings working in anthroposophy has recently played an important role in the Society. Young people in particular—but other, older ones as well—entered the Society with a keen longing to meet others in it with whom they could have a type of experience that life does not afford the single individual in today's social order. To say this is to call attention to a thoroughly understandable longing felt by many people of our time.

As a result of the dawning of the age of consciousness, old social ties have lost their purely human content and their purely human strength. People always used to grow into some particular community. They did not become hermits; they grew into some quite specific community or other. They grew into the community of a family, a profession, a certain rank. Recently they have been growing into the communities we call social classes, and so on.

These various communities have always carried certain responsibilities for the individual that he could not have carried for himself.

One of the strongest bonds felt by men of modern times has been that of class. The old social groupings: those of rank, of nationality, even of race—have given way to a sense of belonging to a certain class. This has recently developed to a point where the members of a given class—the so-called higher classes or aristocracy, the bourgeoisie, the proletariat—make common cause. Thus communities based on class have transcended national and even racial and other such loyalties, and a good many of the elements witnessed in modern international social life can be ascribed to these class communities.

But the age of the consciousness soul, which began early in the fifteenth century and has come increasingly to the fore, has recently been making itself felt in human souls with growing urgency and vehemence. This has made human beings feel that they can no longer find in class communities any elements that could carry them into something beyond merely individual existence. On the one hand, modern man has a strong sense of individuality and cannot tolerate any interference with his life of individual thought and feeling. He wants to be recognized as a personality. That goes back to certain primal causes. If I may again resort to the terminology I used yesterday, I would say that since the end of Kali Yuga—or, in other words, since this century began—something has been stirring in contemporary souls, no matter how unconsciously, that could be expressed in the words, “I want to be a distinct individual.” Of course, not everybody could formulate it thus. It shows itself in many kinds of discontent and psychic instability. But underlying them is the desire to be a distinct personality.

The truth is, however, that no one can get along on earth without other human beings. Historic ties and bonds like those that unite the proletariat in a sense of class belonging, for example, do not supply anything that on the one hand can satisfy the urge to be a distinct individual and on the other unite individuals with their fellowmen. Modern man wants the purely human element in himself to relate him to the purely human element in others. He does indeed want social ties, but he wants them to have an individual character like that experienced in personal friendships.

An endless amount of what goes on between human beings in contemporary life can be traced to a craving for such human communities. It was quite evident a while ago when a group of younger people came to me wanting to bring about a renewal of Christianity. It was their belief that such a renewal could be achieved only by making the Christ impulse very much alive in the sense that anthroposophy has demonstrated. This longing felt by younger theologians, some of whom were just completing their training and were therefore about to assume pastoral duties, others of whom were still studying, was the element that gave birth to the latest offshoot of our Society, the Movement for Religious Renewal.

Now quite a variety of things had to be done for this Movement for Religious Renewal. It was of first concern to bring the Christ impulse to life in a way suited to the present. To do this meant taking very seriously indeed the fact I have so often stressed: that the Christ not only spoke to human souls at the beginning of the Christian era but has carried out the promise that he made when he said, “I will be with you always, unto the very end of the earth.” This means that he can always be heard whenever a soul desires it, that a continuing Christ revelation is taking place. There had to be an ongoing evolution from the written Gospels to immediately living revelation of the Christ impulse. This was one aspect of the task of religious renewal.

The other was one that I had to characterize at once by saying that religious renewal must bring communities into being, that it must build religious communities. Once a community has equipped an individual with knowledge, he can do something with it by himself. But that direct experience of the spiritual world, which is not based on thought but rather on feeling and is religious by nature, this experience of the spiritual world as divine can only be found by forming communities. So a healthy building of community must, I said, go hand in hand with the healthy development of religious life.

The personalities who undertook the launching of this Movement for Religious Renewal were, at the outset, all Protestant theologians. Their attention could be called to the fact that it was just the Protestant denominations that had recently been tending to lay increasing emphasis on sermons, to the neglect of ritual. But preaching has an atomizing effect on communities. The sermon, which is intended to convey knowledge of the spiritual world, challenges the individual soul to form its own opinions. This fact is reflected in the particularly pronounced modern antagonism to the credo, the confession of beliefs, in an age when everyone wants to confess only to his own. This has led to an atomization, a blowing apart of the congregation, with a resultant focusing of the religious element on the individual.

This would gradually bring about the dissolution of the soul elements of the social order if there were not to be a renewed possibility of building true community. But true community building can only be the product of a cultus derived from fresh revelations of the spiritual world. So the cultus now in use in the Movement for Religious Renewal was introduced. It takes mankind's historical evolution fully into account, and thus represents in many of its single details as well as in its overall aspects a carrying forward of the historical element. But its every aspect also bears the imprint of fresh revelations, which the spiritual world can only now begin to make to man's higher consciousness.

The cultus unites those who come together at its celebration. It creates community, and Dr. Rittelmeyer said quite rightly, in the course of the Stuttgart deliberations, that in the community building power of the cultus the Movement for Religious Renewal presents a great danger—perhaps a very grave one—to the Anthroposophical Society. What was he pointing to when he said this? He was calling attention to the fact that many a person approaches the Society with the longing to find a link with others in a free community experience. Such communal life with the religious coloration that the cultus gives it can be attained, and people with such a longing for community life can satisfy it in the Movement for Religious Renewal. If the Society is not to be endangered, it must therefore also make a point of nurturing a community building element.

Now this called attention to a fact of the greatest importance in this most recent phase of the Society's development. It pointed out that anthroposophists must acquire an understanding of community building. An answer must be found to the question whether the community building that is being achieved in the Movement for Religious Renewal is the only kind there is at present, or whether there are other possibilities of attaining the same goal in the Anthroposophical Society.

This question can obviously only be answered by studying the nature of community building.

But that impulse to build community, which modern man feels and the cultus can satisfy, is not the only one that moves him, strong though it is; there is still another. Every human being of the present feels both kinds of longings, and it is most desirable that each and every one should have his need met by providing community building elements not only in the Movement for Religious Renewal but in the Anthroposophical Society as well.

When one is discussing something, one naturally has to clothe it in idea form. But what I am about to present in that form really lives at the feeling level in people of our time. Ideas are a device for making things clear. But what I want to talk about now is something that modern man experiences purely as feeling.

The first kind of community building that we encounter the moment we set out on earthly life is one that we take quite for granted and seldom think about or weigh in feeling. That is the community built by language. We learn to speak our mother-tongue as little children, and this mother-tongue provides us with an especially strong community building element because it comes into the child's experience and is absorbed by him at a time when his etheric body is still wholly integrated with the rest of his organism and as yet quite undifferentiated. This means that the mother-tongue grows completely at one with his entire being. But it is also an element that groups of human beings share in common. People feel united by a common language, and if you remember something I have often mentioned, the fact that a spiritual being is embodied in a language, that the genius of language is not the abstraction learned men consider it but a real spiritual being, you will sense how a community based on a shared language rests on the fact that its members feel the presence of a real genius of speech. They feel sheltered beneath the wings of a real spiritual being. That is the case wherever community is built.

All community building eventuates in a higher being descending from the world of the spirit to reign over and unite people who have come together in a common cause.

But there is another, individual element eminently capable of creating community that can make its appearance when a group foregathers. A common tongue unites people because what one is saying can live in those who are listening to him; they thus share a common content. But now let us imagine that a number of individuals who spent their childhood and early schooldays together find an occasion of the sort that could and indeed often does present itself to meet again some thirty years later. This little group of forty- or fifty-year-olds, every one of whom spent his childhood in the same school and the same region, begins to talk of common experiences as children and young people. Something special comes alive in them that makes for quite a different kind of community than that created by a common tongue. When members of a group speaking the same language come, in the course of meeting and talking, to feel that they understand one another, their sense of belonging together is relatively superficial compared with what one feels when one's soul-depths are stirred by entertaining common memories. Every word has a special coloring, a special flavor, because it takes one back to a shared youth and childhood. What unites people in such moments of communal experience reaches deeper levels of their soul life. One feels related in deeper layers of one's being to those with whom one comes together on this basis.

What is this basis of relationship? It consists of memories—memories of communal experiences of earlier days. One feels oneself transported to a vanished world where one once lived in company with these others with whom one is thus re-united.

This is to describe an earthly situation that aptly illustrates the nature of the cultus. For what is intended with the cultus? Whether its medium be words or actions, it projects into the physical world, in an entirely different sense than our natural surroundings do, an image of the super-sensible, the spiritual world. Every plant, every process in external nature is, of course, also an image of something spiritual, but not in the direct sense that a rightly presented verbal or ceremonial facet of the cultus is. The words and actions of the cultus convey the super-sensible world in all its immediacy. The cultus is based on speaking words in the physical world in a way that makes the super-sensible world immediately present in them, on performing actions in a way that conveys forces of the super-sensible world. A cultus ritual is one in which something happens that is not limited to what the eyes see when they look physically at ritualistic acts; the fact is rather that forces of a spiritual, super-sensible nature permeate ordinary physical forces. A super-sensible event takes place in the physical act that pictures it.

Man is thus directly united with the spiritual world by means of the physically perceptible words and actions of the cultus. Rightly presented, its words and actions bring to our experience on the physical plane a world that corresponds to the pre-earthly one from which we human beings have descended. In just the same sense in which forty- or fifty-year-olds who have met again feel themselves transported back into the world they shared in childhood does a person who joins others at the celebration of a genuine cultus feel himself transported back into a world he shared with them before they descended to the earth. He is not aware of this; it remains a subconscious experience, but it penetrates his feeling life all the more deeply for that very reason. The cultus is designed with this intent. It is designed with a view to giving man a real experience of something that is a memory, an image of his pre-earthly life, of his existence before he descended to the earth. The members of congregations based on a cultus feel especially keenly what, for purposes of illustration, I have just described as taking place when a group comes together in later life and exchanges memories of childhood: They feel transported into a world where they lived together in the super-sensible. This accounts for the binding ties created by a cultus-based community, and it has always been the reason why it did so. Where it is a matter of a religious life that does not have an atomizing effect because of its stress on preaching but instead emphasizes the cultus, the cultus will lead to the forming of a true community or congregation. No religious life can be maintained without the community building element. Thus a community based in this sense on common memories of the super-sensible is a community of sacraments as well.

But no form of sacrament- or cultus-based community that remains standing where it is today can meet the needs of modern human beings. To be sure, it may be acceptable to many people. But cultus-based congregations would not achieve their full potential or—more important still—reach their real goal if they were to remain nothing more than communities united by common memories of super-sensible experience. This has created an increasing need for introducing sermons into the cultus. The trouble is that the atomizing tendency of sermons as these are presently conceived by the Protestant denominations has become very marked, because the real needs arising from the consciousness soul development of this Fifth Post-Atlantean epoch have not been taken into account. The concept of preaching in the older confessions is still based on the needs of the Fourth Post-Atlantean period. In these older churches, sermons conform to the world view that prevailed during the period of intellectual soul development. They are no longer suited to the modern consciousness. That is why the Protestant churches have gone over to a form of presentation that makes its appeal more to human opinion, to conscious human understanding.

There is every good reason for doing this, of course. On the other hand, no really right way of doing it has yet been found. A sermon contained within the cultus is a misfit; it leads away from the cultus in a cognitive direction. But this problem has not been well recognized in the form preaching has taken in the course of man's ongoing evolution. You will see this immediately when I remind you of a certain fact. You will see how little there is left when we omit sermons of more recent times that do not take a Biblical text. In most cases, Sunday sermons as well as those delivered on special occasions take some quotation from the Bible for their text because fresh, living revelation such as is also available in the present is rejected. Historical tradition remains the only source resorted to. In other words, a more individual form of sermon is being sought, but the key to it has not been found. Thus sermons eventuate in mere opinion, personal opinion, with atomizing effect.

Now if the recently established Movement for Religious Renewal, built as it is in all essentials on an anthroposophical foundation, reckons with fresh, ongoing revelation, with a living spiritual experience of the super-sensible world, then it will be just the sermon factor that will bring it to recognize its need for something further. This something is the same thing that makes fresh, ongoing, living knowledge of the spiritual world possible, namely, anthroposophical spiritual science. I might express it by saying that sermons will always be the windows through which the Movement for Religious Renewal will have to receive what an ongoing, living Anthroposophical Society must give it. But as I said when I spoke of the Movement for Religious Renewal at the last lecture I gave over there in the still intact Goetheanum, if the Movement for Religious Renewal is to grow, the Anthroposophical Society will have to stand by it in the liveliest possible way, with all the living life of anthroposophy flowing to it from a number of human beings as the channel. The Movement for Religious Renewal would soon go dry if it were not to have at least some people standing by it in whom anthroposophical cognition is a really living element.

But as I said, many individuals are presently entering the Society, seeking anthroposophy not just in the abstract but in the community belonging that satisfies a yearning of the age of consciousness. It might be suggested that the Society too should adopt a cultus. It could do this, of course, but that would take it outside its proper sphere. I will therefore now go on to discuss the specifically anthroposophical way of building community.

Modern life definitely has other community building elements to offer besides that based on common memories of pre-natal experience of the super-sensible world. The element I have in mind is one that is needed by the present in a form especially adapted to the age of consciousness.

In this connection I must point out something that goes entirely unnoticed by most human beings of our time.

There has, to be sure, always been talk of idealism. But when idealism is mentioned nowadays, such talk amounts to little more than hollow phrases, even in the mouths of the well-meaning. For ours is a time when intellectual elements and forces have come especially strongly to the fore throughout the entire civilized world, with the result that there is no understanding for what a whole human being is. The longing for that understanding is indeed there, particularly in the case of modern youth. But the very indefiniteness of the form in which youth conceives it shows that something lives in human souls today that has not declared itself at all distinctly; it is still undifferentiated, and it will not become the less naive for being differentiated.

Now please note the following. Imagine yourselves back in times when religious streams were rising and inundating humankind. You will find that in those bygone periods of human evolution this and that proclamation from the spiritual world was being greeted by many people with enormous enthusiasm. Indeed, it would have been completely impossible for the confessions extant today to find the strength to carry people if, at the time of these proclamations, souls had not felt a much greater affinity for revelations from the spiritual world than is felt today. Observing people nowadays, one simply cannot imagine them being carried away by anything in the nature of a proclamation of religious truths such as used to take place in earlier ages. Of course, sects do form, but there is a philistine quality about them in great contrast to the fiery response of human souls to earlier proclamations. One no longer finds the same inner warmth of soul toward things of the spirit. It suffered a rapid diminution in the last third of the nineteenth century. Granted, discontent still drives people to listen to this or that, and to join one or another church. But the positive warmth that used to live in human souls and was solely responsible for enabling individuals to put their whole selves at the service of the spirit has been replaced by a certain cool or even cold attitude. This coolness is manifest in human souls today when they speak of ideals and idealism. For nowadays the matter of chief concern is something that still has a long way to go to its fulfillment, that still has a long waiting period before it, but that as expectation is already very much alive in many human souls today. I can characterize it for you in the following way.

Let us take two states of consciousness familiar to everybody, and imagine a dreaming person and someone in a state of ordinary waking consciousness.

What is the situation of the dreamer? It is the same as that of a sleeping person. For though we may speak of dreamless sleep, the fact is that sleepers are always dreaming, though their dreams may be so faint as to go unnoticed.

What, I repeat, is the dreamer's situation? He is living in his own dream-picture world. As he lives in it he frequently finds it a good deal more vivid and gripping—this much can certainly be said—than his everyday waking experience. But he is experiencing it in complete isolation. It is his purely personal experience. Two people may be sleeping in one and the same room, yet be experiencing two wholly different worlds in their dream consciousness. They cannot share each other's experience. Each has his own, and the most they can do is tell one another about it afterwards.

When a person wakes and exchanges his dream consciousness for that of everyday, he has the same sense perception of his surroundings that those about him have. They begin to share a communal scene. A person wakes to a shared world when he leaves dreams behind and enters a day-waking state of consciousness. What wakes him out of the one consciousness into the other? It is light and sound and the natural environment that rouse him to the ordinary day-waking state, and other people are in the same category for him. One wakes up from dreams by the natural aspects of one's fellowmen, by what they are saying, by the way they clothe their thoughts and feelings in the language they use. One is awakened by the way other people naturally behave. Everything in one's natural environment wakes one to normal day consciousness. In all previous ages people woke up from the dream state to day-waking consciousness. And these same surroundings provided a person with the gate through which, if he was so minded, he entered spiritual realms.

Then a new element made its appearance in human life with the awakening and development of the consciousness soul. This calls for a second kind of awakening, one for which the human race will feel a growing need: an awakening at hand of the souls and spirits of other human beings. In ordinary waking life one awakens only in meeting another's natural aspects. But a person who has become an independent, distinct individual in the age of consciousness wants to wake up in the encounter with the soul and spirit of his fellowman. He wants to awaken to his soul and spirit, to approach him in a way that startles his own soul awake in the same sense that light and sound and other such environmental elements startle one out of dreaming.

This has been felt as an absolutely basic need since the beginning of the twentieth century, and it will grow increasingly urgent. It is a need that will be apparent throughout the twentieth century, despite the time's chaotic, tumultuous nature, which will affect every phase of life and civilization. Human beings will feel this need—the need to be brought to wake up more fully in the encounter with the other person than one can wake up in regard to the merely natural surroundings. Dream life wakes up into wakeful day consciousness in the encounter with the natural environment. Wakeful day consciousness wakes up to a higher consciousness in the encounter with the soul and spirit of our fellowman. Man must become more to his fellowman than he used to be: he must become his awakener. People must come closer to one another than they used to do, each becoming an awakener of everyone he meets. Modern human beings entering life today have stored up far too much karma not to feel a destined connection with every individual they encounter. In earlier ages, souls were younger and had not formed so many karmic ties. Now it has become necessary to be awakened not just by nature but by the human beings with whom we are karmically connected and whom we want to seek.

So, in addition to the need to recall one's super-sensible home, which the cultus meets, we have the further need to be awakened to the soul-spiritual element by other human beings, and the feeling impulse that can bring this about is that of the newer idealism. When the ideal ceases to be a mere abstraction and becomes livingly reunited with man's soul and spirit, it can be expressed in the words, “I want to wake up in the encounter with my fellowman.”

This is the feeling that, vague though it is, is developing in youth today, “I want to be awakened by my fellowman,” and this is the particular form in which community can be nurtured in the Anthroposophical Society. It is the most natural development imaginable for when people come together for a communal experience of what anthroposophy can reveal of the super-sensible, the experience is quite a different one from any that the individual could have alone. The fact that one wakes up in the encounter with the soul of the other during the time spent in his company creates an atmosphere that, while it may not lead one into the super-sensible world in exactly the way described in Knowledge of the Higher Worlds, furthers one's understanding of the ideas that anthroposophical spiritual science brings us from super-sensible realms.

There is a different understanding of things among people who share a common idealistic life based on mutual communication of an anthroposophical content, whether by reading aloud or in some other way. Through experiencing the super-sensible together, one human soul is awakened most intensively in the encounter with another human soul. It wakes the soul to higher insight, and this frame of mind creates a situation that causes a real communal being to descend in a group of people gathered for the purpose of mutually communicating and experiencing anthroposophical ideas. Just as the genius of a language lives in that language and spreads its wings over those who speak it, so do those who experience anthroposophical ideas together in the right, idealistic frame of mind live in the shelter of the wings of a higher being.

Now what takes place as a result?

If this line (Dr. Steiner draws on the blackboard) represents the demarcation between the super-sensible and the sense world, we have, here above it, the processes and beings of the higher world experienced in the cultus; they are projected by the words and ritualistic acts of the cultus into the physical world here below the line. In the case of an anthroposophical group, experience on the physical plane is lifted by the strength of its genuine, spiritualized idealism into the spiritual world. The cultus brings the super-sensible down into the physical world with its words and actions. The anthroposophical group raises the thoughts and feelings of the assembled individuals into the super-sensible, and when an anthroposophical content is experienced in the right frame of mind by a group of human beings whose souls wake up in the encounter with each other, the soul is lifted in reality into a spirit community. It is only a question of this awareness really being present. Where it exists and groups of this kind make their appearance in the Anthroposophical Society, there we have in this reversed cultus, as I shall call it, in this polar opposite of the cultus, a most potent community building element. If I were to speak pictorially, I would put it thus: the community of the cultus seeks to draw the angels of heaven down to the place where the cultus is being celebrated, so that they may be present in the congregation, whereas the anthroposophical community seeks to lift human souls into super-sensible realms so that they may enter the company of angels. In both cases that is what creates community.

But if anthroposophy is to serve man as a real means of entering the spiritual world, it may not be mere theory and abstraction. We must do more than just talk about spiritual beings; we must look for the opportunities nearest at hand to enter their company. The work of an anthroposophical group does not consist in a number of people merely discussing anthroposophical ideas. Its members should feel so linked with one another that human soul wakes up in the encounter with human soul and all are lifted into the spiritual world, into the company of spiritual beings, though it need not be a question of beholding them. We do not have to see them to have this experience. This is the strength-giving element that can emerge from groups that have come into being within the Society through the right practice of community building. Some of the fine things that really do exist in the Society must become more common; that is what new members have been missing. They have looked for them, but have not found them. What they have encountered has instead been some such statement as, “If you want to be a real anthroposophist you must believe in reincarnation and the etheric body,” and so on.

I have often pointed out that there are two ways of reading a book like my Theosophy. One is to read, “Man consists of physical body, etheric body, astral body, etc., and lives repeated earth lives and has a karma, etc.” A reader of this kind is taking in concepts. They are, of course, rather different concepts than one finds elsewhere, but the mental process that is going on is in many respects identical with what takes place when one studies a cookbook. My point was exactly that the process is the important thing, not the absorption of ideas. It makes no difference whether you are reading, “Put butter into a frying pan, add flour, stir; add the beaten eggs, etc.,” or, “There is physical matter, etheric forces, astral forces, and they interpenetrate each other.” It is all one from the standpoint of the soul process involved whether butter, eggs and flour are being mixed at a stove or the human entelechy is conceived as a mixture of physical, etheric and astral bodies. But one can also read Theosophy in such a manner as to realize that it contains concepts that stand in the same relation to the world of ordinary physical concepts as the latter does to the dream world. They belong to a world to which one has to awaken out of the ordinary physical realm in just the way one wakes out of one's dream world into the physical. It is the attitude one has in reading that gives things the right coloring. That attitude can, of course, be brought to life in present-day human beings in a variety of ways. They are all described and there to choose from in Knowledge of the Higher Worlds. But modern man also needs to go through the transitional phase—one not to be confused with actually beholding higher worlds—of waking up in the encounter with the soul-spiritual aspect of his fellowman to the point of living into the spiritual world just as he awakes from dreams into the physical world through the stimulus of light and sound, etc.

We must rise to an understanding of this matter. We have to come to understand what anthroposophy ought to be within the Anthroposophical Society. It should be a path to the spirit. When it becomes that, community building will be the outcome.

But anthroposophy must really be applied to life. That is the essential thing, my dear friends. How essential it is can be illustrated by an example close at hand. After we had had many smaller meetings with a varying number of people there in Stuttgart and had debated what should be done to consolidate the Society, I came together with the young people. I am not referring to the meeting I reported on yesterday, which was held later; this was a prior meeting, but also one held at night. These particular young people were all students. Well, first there was some talk about the best way to arrange things so that the Society would function properly, and so on. But after awhile the conversation shifted to anthroposophy itself. We got right into its very essence because these young men and women felt the need to enquire into the form studies ought to take in future, how the problem of doctoral dissertations should be handled, and other such questions. It was not possible to answer them superficially; we had to plunge right into anthroposophy. In other words, we began with philistine considerations and immediately got into questions of anthroposophy and its application, such as, “How does one go about writing a doctoral dissertation as an anthroposophist? How does one pursue a subject like chemistry?” Anthroposophy proved itself life-oriented, for deliberations such as these led over into it quite of themselves.

The point is that anthroposophy should never remain abstract learning. Matters can, of course, be so arranged that people are summoned to a meeting called for the purpose of deciding how the Society should be set up, with a conversation about anthroposophy as a further item on the agenda. This would be a superficial approach. I am not suggesting it, but rather a much more inward one that would lead over quite of itself from a consideration of everyday problems to the insight that anthroposophy should be called upon to help solve them. One sees the quickening effect it has on life in just such a case as the one cited, where people were discussing the re-shaping of the Society only to end up, quite as a matter of organic necessity, in a discussion of how the anthroposophist and the scientific philistine must conceive the development of the embryo from their respective standpoints. We must make a practice of this rather than of a system of double-entry bookkeeping that sets down such philistine entries on one page as “Anthroposophical Society,” “Union for a Free Spiritual Life,” and so on. Real life should be going on without a lot of theory and abstractions and a dragging in of supposedly anthroposophical sayings such as “In anthroposophy man must find his way to man,” and so on. Abstractions of this kind must not be allowed to play a role. Instead, a concrete anthroposophical approach should lead straight to the core of every matter of concern. When that happens, one seldom hears the phrase, “That is anthroposophical, or un-anthroposophical.” Indeed, in such cases the word “anthroposophy” is seldom spoken. We need to guard against fanatical talk.

My dear friends, this is not a superficial matter, as you will see. At the last Congress in Vienna I had to give twelve lectures on a wide range of subjects, and I set myself the task of never once mentioning the word “anthroposophy.” And I succeeded! You will not discover the word “anthroposophy” or “anthroposophical” in a single one of the twelve lectures given last June in Vienna. The experiment was a success. Surely one can make a person's acquaintance without having any special interest in whether his name is Mueller and what his title is. One just takes him as he is. If we take anthroposophy livingly, just as it is, without paying much attention to what its name is, this will be a good course for us to adopt.

We will speak further about these things tomorrow, and I will then give you something more in the way of a report.

[ 2 ] My first acquaintance with Nietzsche's writings belongs to the year 1889. Previous to that I had never read a line of his. Upon the substance of my ideas as these find expression in The Philosophy of Spiritual Activity, Nietzsche's thought had not the least influence. I read what he had written with the feeling of being drawn on by the style which he had developed out of his relation to life. I felt that his soul was a being that was impelled by reason of inheritance and attraction to give attention to everything which the spiritual life of his age had brought forth, but which always felt within: “What has this spiritual life to do with me? There must be another world in which I can live; so much does life in this world jar upon me.” This feeling made him a spiritually incensed critic of his time; but a critic who was by his own criticism reduced to illness – who had to experience illness and could only dream of health – of his own health. At first he sought for means to make his dream of health the content of his own life; and thus he sought with Richard Wagner, with Schopenhauer, with modern positivism to dream as if he wished to make the dream in his soul into a reality. One day he discovered that he had only dreamed. Then he began with every power belonging to his spirit to seek for realities – realities which must lie “somewhere or other.” He found no roads to these realities, but only yearnings. Then these yearnings became to him realities. He dreamed again, but the mighty power of his soul created out of these dreams realities of the inner man which, without that heaviness which had so long characterized the ideas of humanity, floated within him in a mood of soul joyful but resting upon foundations contrary to the spirit of the age, the “Zeitgeist.”

[ 3 ] It was thus that I viewed Nietzsche. The freely floating weightless character of his ideas attracted me. I found that this free-floating element in him had brought to maturity many thoughts that bore a resemblance to those which had shaped themselves in me by ways quite unlike those of Nietzsche's mind.

[ 4 ] Thus it was possible for me to write in 1895 in the preface to my book Nietzsche, ein Kämpfer gegen seine Zeit.¹ “As early as 1886 in my little volume, The Theory of Knowledge in Goethe's World-Conception, the same sentiment is expressed” – that is, the same as appears in certain works of Nietzsche. But what attracted me particularly was that one could read Nietzsche without coming upon anything which strove to make the reader a “dependant” of Nietzsche's. One could gladly experience without reserve his spiritual illumination; in this experience one felt oneself to be wholly free; for one had the impression that his words began to laugh if one had attributed to them the intention of being assented to, as is the case when one reads Haeckel or Spencer.

[ 5 ] Thus I ventured to explain my relationship to Nietzsche in the book mentioned above by using the words which he himself had used in his book on Schopenhauer: “I belong among those readers of Nietzsche, who, after having read their first page from him, know for a certainty that they will read every page and listen to every word which he has ever uttered. My confidence in him continued from that time on ... I understood him as if he had written for me, in order to express me intelligibly, but immodestly, foolishly.” [ 6 ] Shortly before I began the actual writing of that book, Nietzsche's sister, Elizabeth Förster-Nietzsche, appeared one day at the Goethe and Schiller Institute. She was taking the preliminary steps toward the establishment of a Nietzsche Institute, and wished to learn how the Goethe and Schiller Institute was managed. Soon afterward there came to Weimar the editor of Nietzsche's works, Fritz Koegel, and I made his acquaintance.

[ 7 ] Later I got into a serious disagreement with Frau Elizabeth Förster-Nietzsche. Her emotional and lovable spirit claimed at that time my deepest sympathy. I suffered inexpressibly by reason of the disagreement. A complicated situation had brought this to pass; I was compelled to defend myself against accusations; I know that it was all necessary, that the happy hours I was permitted to spend among the Nietzsche archives in Naumburg and Weimar should now lie under a veil of bitter memories; yet I am grateful to Frau Förster-Nietzsche for having taken me, on the first of many visits I made to her, into the chamber of Friedrich Nietzsche. There he lay on a lounge enveloped in darkness, with his beautiful forehead-artist's and thinker's forehead in one. It was early afternoon. Those eyes which in their blindness yet revealed the soul, now merely mirrored a reflection of the surroundings which could find no longer any way to reach the soul. One stood there and Nietzsche knew it not. And yet one could have believed, looking upon that brow permeated by the spirit, that this was the expression of a soul which had all the forenoon long been shaping thoughts within, and which now would fain rest a while. An inner shudder which seized my soul may have signified that this also underwent a change in sympathy with the genius whose gaze was directed toward me and yet failed to rest upon me. The passivity of my gaze so long fixed won in return a comprehension of his own gaze: his longing always in vain to enable the soul-forces of the eye to work.

[ 8 ] And so there appeared before my soul the soul of Nietzsche, hovering above his head, boundless in its spiritual light; surrendered wholly to the spiritual worlds, longing after its environment but failing to discover it; and yet chained to the body, which would have to do with the soul only so long as the soul longed for this present world. Nietzsche's soul was still there, but only from without could it hold to the body, that body which so long as the soul remained within it had offered resistance to the full unfolding of its light.

[ 9 ] I had ere this read the Nietzsche who had written; now I perceived the Nietzsche who bore within his body ideas drawn from widely extended spiritual regions – ideas which still sparkled in their beauty even though they had lost on the way their primal illuminating powers. A soul which from previous earthly lives bore rich wealth of light, but which could not in this life cause all its light to shine. I had admired what Nietzsche wrote; but now I saw a luminous form behind that which I had admired.

[ 10 ] In my thoughts I could only stammer over what I then beheld; and this stammering is in effect my book, Nietzsche as the Adversary of His Age. That the book is no more than a stammering conceals what is none the less true, that the form of Nietzsche I beheld inspired the book.

[ 11 ] Frau Förster-Nietzsche then requested me to set Nietzsche's library in order. In this way I was enabled to spend several weeks in the Nietzsche archives at Naumburg. In this way also I formed an intimate friendship with Fritz Koegel. It was a beautiful task which placed before my eyes the books in which Nietzsche himself had read. His spirit lived in the impressions which these volumes made upon me – a volume of Emerson's filled throughout with marginal comments showing all the signs of an absorbing study; Guyau's writing bearing the same indications; books containing violent critical comments from his hand – a great number of marginal comments in which one could see his ideas in germinal form.

[ 12 ] A penetrating conception of Nietzsche's final creative period shone clearly before me as I read his marginal comments on Eugen Dühring's chief philosophical work. Dühring there develops the thought that one can conceive the cosmos at a single moment as a combination of elementary parts. Thus the history of the world would be the series of all such possible combinations. When once these should have been formed, then the first would have to return, and the whole series would be repeated. If anything thus exists in reality, it must have occurred innumerable times in the past, and must occur again innumerable times in future. Thus we should arrive at the conception of the eternal repetition of similar states of the cosmos. Dühring rejects this thought as an impossibility Nietzsche reads this; he receives from it an impression, which works further in the depths of his soul and finally take form within him as “the return of the similar,” which, together with the idea of the “superman,” dominates his final creative period.

[ 13 ] I was profoundly impressed – indeed shocked – by the impression which I received from thus following Nietzsche in his reading. For I saw what an opposition there was between the character of Nietzsche's spirit and that of his contemporaries. Dühring, the extreme positivist, who rejects everything which is not the result of a system of reasoning directed with cold and mathematical regularity, considers “the eternal repetition of the similar” as an absurdity, and sets up the idea only to show its impossibility; but Nietzsche must take this up as his solution of the world-riddle, as an intuition , arising from the depths of his own soul.

[ 14 ] Thus Nietzsche stands in absolute opposition to much which pressed in upon him as the content of the thought and feeling of his age. This driving pressure he so receives that it pains him deeply, and it is in grief, in inexpressible sorrow of spirit, that he shapes the content of his own soul. This was the tragedy of his creative work.

This reached its climax while he was sketching the outlines for his last work, Willen zur Macht, eine Umwertung aller Werte.² Nietzsche was impelled to bring up in purely spiritual fashion everything which he thought or experienced in the depth of his soul. To create a world-concept from the spiritual events in which the soul itself participates – this was the tendency of his thought. But the positivistic world conception of his age, the age of natural science, swept in upon him. In this conception there was nothing but the purely materialistic world, void of spirit. What remained of the spiritual way of thought in the conception was only the remains of ancient ways of thinking, and these no longer found him. Nietzsche's unlimited sense for truth would expunge all this. In this way he came to think as an extreme positivist. A spiritual world behind the material became to him a lie. But he could create only out of his own soul – so create that true creation seemed to him to have meaning only when it holds before itself in idea the content of the spiritual world. Yet this content he rejected. The natural-scientific world-content had so firmly gripped his soul he would create this as if in spiritual fashion. Lyrically, in dionysiac rush of soul, does his mind soar aloft in Zarathustra. In wonderful fashion does the spiritual hover there, but it is a wonderful spiritual dream woven out of the stuff of material reality. The spirit strews this about in its effort to escape because it does not find itself but can only live in a seeming reality in that dream reflected from the material.

[ 15 ] In my own mind I dwelt much during those Weimar days in the contemplation of Nietzsche's type of mind. In my own spiritual experience this type of mind had also its place. My spiritual experience could enter sympathetically into Nietzsche's struggles, into his tragedy. What had this to do with the positivistic forms in which Nietzsche proclaimed the conclusions of his thought?

[ 16 ] Others looked upon me as a “Nietzschean,” merely because I could unreservedly admire what was entirely opposed to my own way of thinking. I was impressed by the way in which Nietzsche's mind revealed itself; in just this aspect I felt myself close to him, for in the content of his thought he was close to no one; as to the experience of the spiritual way of thought he felt himself isolated both from men and from his age.

[ 17 ] For a long time I was in frequent intercourse with the editor of Nietzsche's works, Fritz Koegel. We discussed in detail many things pertaining to the publication of Nietzsche's works. I never had any official relation to the Nietzsche archives or the publication of his works. When Frau Förster Nietzsche wished to offer me such a relationship, this led to a conflict with Fritz Koegel which at once rendered it impossible that I should have any share in the Nietzsche archives.

[ 18 ] My connection with the Nietzsche archives constituted a very stimulating episode in my life at Weimar, and the final rupture of this relationship caused me deep regret.

[ 19 ] Out of the various activities in connection with Nietzsche, there remained with me a view of his personality – that of one whose fate it was to share tragically in the life of the age of natural science covering the latter half of the nineteenth century and finally to be shattered by his impact with that age. He sought in that age, but nothing could he find. As to myself, I was only confirmed by my experience with him in the conviction that all seeking for reality in the data of natural science would be vain except as it directed its view, not within these data, but through them into the world of spirit.

[ 20 ] It was thus that Nietzsche's work brought the problem of natural science before my mind in a new form. Goethe and Nietzsche stood in perspective before me. Goethe's strong sense for reality directed him toward the essential being and processes of nature. He desired to remain within nature He restricted himself to pure perceptions of the plant, animal, and human forms. But, while he kept his mind moving among these forms, he came everywhere upon spirit. For within the material he found everywhere dominant the spirit. All the way to the actual perception of the spirit living and controlling he would not advance. A spiritual sort of natural science was what he constructed, but he paused before arriving at the knowledge of pure spirit lest he should lose his hold upon reality.

[ 21 ] Nietzsche proceeded from the vision of the spiritual after the manner of myths. Apollo and Dionysos were spiritual forms which he experienced in vital fashion. The history of the human spiritual seemed to him to have been a history of co-operation and also of conflict between Dionysos and Apollo. But he got only as far as the mythical conception of such spiritual forms. He did not press forward to the perception of real spiritual being. Beginning with the spiritual in myth, he made a path for himself to nature. In Nietzsche's thought Apollo had to represent the material after the manner of natural science; Dionysos had to be conceived as symbolizing the forces of nature. But thus was Apollo's beauty dimmed; thus was the world-emotion of Dionysos paralysed into the regularity of natural law.

[ 22 ] Goethe found the spirit in the reality of nature; Nietzsche lost the spirit-myth in the dream of nature in which he lived.

[ 23 ] I stood between these two opposites. The experiences of soul through which I had passed in writing my book Nietzsche as the Adversary of His Age could at first make no advance; on the contrary, in the last period of my life in Weimar, Goethe became once more dominant in my reflections. I wished to indicate the road by which the life of humanity had expressed itself in philosophy up to the time of Goethe, in order to conceive the philosophy of Goethe as proceeding out of this life. This endeavour I made in the book Goethes Weltanschauung³ which was published in 1897. [ 24 ] In this book it was my purpose to bring to light how Goethe, wherever he directed his eyes to the understanding of nature, saw shining forth everywhere the spiritual; but I did not touch upon the manner in which Goethe related himself to spirit as such. My purpose was to characterize that part of Goethe's philosophy which expressed itself vitally in a spiritual view of nature.

[ 25 ] Nietzsche's ideas of the “eternal repetition” and of “supermen” remained long in my mind. For in these was reflected that which a personality must feel concerning the evolution and essential being of humanity when this personality is kept back from grasping the spiritual world by the restricted thought in the philosophy of nature characterizing the end of the nineteenth century. Nietzsche perceived the evolution of humanity in such a way that whatever happened at any moment has already happened innumerable times in precisely the same form, and will happen again innumerable times in future. The atomistic conception of the cosmos makes the present moment seem a certain definite combination of the smallest entities; this must be followed by another, and this in turn by yet another – until, when all possible combinations have been formed, the first must again appear. A human life with all its individual details has been present innumerable times; it will return with all its details in innumerable times.

[ 26 ] The “repeated earth-lives” of humanity shone darkly in Nietzsche's subconsciousness. These lead the individual human life through human evolution to life-stages at which overruling destiny causes men to pass, not to a repetition of the earth-life, but by ways spiritually determined to a traversing in many forms through the course of the world. Nietzsche was fettered by the natural-scientific conception. What this conception could make of repeated earth-lives – this exercised a fascination upon his mind. This he vitally experienced; for he felt his own life to be a tragedy filled with the bitterest experiences, weighed down by grief. To live such a life countless times – this was what he dwelt upon instead of the liberating experience which is to follow upon such a tragedy in the further unfolding of future lives.

[ 27 ] Nietzsche felt also that in the man who is living through one earthly existence another man is revealed, a superman, who is able to form but a fragment of his whole life in a bodily existence on earth. The natural-scientific conception of evolution caused him to view this superman, not as the spirit dominant within the sense-physical, but as that which is shaping itself through a merely natural process of evolution. As man has evolved out of the animal, so will the “superman” evolve out of man. The natural scientific view drew Nietzsche's eyes away from the spiritual man to the natural man, and dazzled him with the thought of a higher “natural man.”

[ 28 ] What Nietzsche had experienced in this way of thought was present in the utmost vividness in my mind during the summer of 1896. At that time Fritz Koegel gave me his collection of Nietzsche's aphorisms concerning the “eternal repetition” to look through. The opinions I formed at that time of this process of Nietzsche's thought were expressed in an article published in 1900 in the Magazin für Literatur. Certain statements occurring in that article fix definitely my reactions at that time to Nietzsche and to natural science. I will transcribe those thoughts of mine here, freed from the polemics with which they were there associated.

[ 29 ] “There is no doubt that Nietzsche wrote these single aphorisms in a series without any order ... I still maintain the conviction I then expressed, that Nietzsche grasped this idea when reading Eugen Dühring's Kursus der Philosophie als streng Wissenschaftlicher Weltanschauung und Lebensgestaltung⁴ (Leipzig, 1875) and under the influence of this book. On page 84 of this work the thought is quite clearly expressed; but it is there as energetically opposed as Nietzsche defends it. This book is in Nietzsche's library. It was read very eagerly by Nietzsche, as is evident from numerous pencil marks on the margins ... Dühring says: ‘The profound’ logical basis of all conscious life demands in the strongest sense of the word an inexhaustibleness of forms. Is this endlessness, by virtue of which ever new forms will appear, a possibility? The mere number of the parts and of the force elements would in itself preclude the unending multiplication of combinations but for the fact that the perpetual medium of space and time promises a limitlessness in variations. Moreover, of that which can be counted only a limited number of combinations is possible. But from that which cannot according to its nature be conceived as enumerable it must be possible for a limitless number of states and relationships to come to pass. This limitlessness, which we are considering with reference to the destiny of forms in the universe, is compatible with any sort of change and even with intervals of approximation to fixity or precise repetitions (italics are mine) but not with the cessation of all variation. Whoever would cherish the conception of an existence which contradicts the primal state of things ought to reflect that the evolution in time has but a single true tendency, and that causality is always in line with this tendency. It is easier to abandon the distinction than to maintain it, and it then requires but little effort to leap over the chasm and imagine the end as analogous with the beginning. But we ought to guard against such superficial haste; for the once given existence of the universe is not merely an unimportant episode between two states of night, but rather the sole firm and illuminated ground from which we may infer the past and forecast the future ... ‘Dühring feels also that an everlasting repetition of states holds no incentive for living.’ He says: ‘Now it is self-evident that the principle of an incentive for living is incompatible with the eternal repetition of the same form ...’”

[ 30 ] Nietzsche was forced by the logic of the natural-scientific conception to a conclusion from which Dühring turned back because of mathematical considerations and the repellent prospect which these represented for human life.

[ 31 ] To quote further from my article: “... if we set up the postulate that with the material parts and the force-elements a limited number of combinations is possible, then we have the Nietzschean ideal of the ‘return of the similar. Nothing less than a defence of a contradictory idea taken from Dühring's view of the matter occurs in Aphorism 203 (Vol. XII in Koegel's edition, and Aphorism in Horneffer's work, Nietzsche's Lehre von der ewigen Wiederkunft.⁵ The amount of the all-force is definite, not something endless: we must beware of such prodigality in conceptions! Accordingly the number of stages, modifications, combinations, and evolutions of this force, though vast and practically immeasurable, is yet always definite and not endless: that is, the force is eternally the same and eternally active – even to this very moment already an endlessness has passed, which means that all possible evolutions must already have occurred. Therefore, the momentary evolution must be a repetition, and likewise that which brought it forth and that which arises from it, and so on both forwards and backwards! Everything has been innumerable times insofar as the sum total of the stages of all forces is repeated ...’ And Nietzsche's feeling in regard to these thoughts is precisely the opposite of that which Dühring experienced. To Nietzsche this thought is the loftiest formula in which life can be affirmed. Aphorism 43 (in Horneffer; 234 in Koegel's edition) runs: ‘Future history will ever more combat this thought, and never believe it, for according to its nature it must die forever! Only he remains who considers his existence capable of endless repetitions: among such, however, a state is possible to which no Utopian has ever attained.’ It can be proven that many of Nietzsche's thoughts originated in a manner similar to that of the eternal repetition. Nietzsche formed an idea opposite to any idea then present before him. At length this same tendency led to the production of his masterpiece, Umwertung aller Werte.”⁶

[ 32 ] It was then clear to me that in certain of his thoughts which strove to reach the world of spirit Nietzsche was a prisoner of his conception of nature. For this reason I was strongly opposed to the mystical interpretation of his thought of repetition. I agreed with Peter Gast, who wrote in his edition of Nietzsche's work: “The doctrine – to be understood in a purely mechanical sense – of limitedness and consequent repetition in cosmic molecular combinations.” Nietzsche believed that a lofty thought must be brought up from the foundations of natural science. That was the way in which he had to sorrow because of his age.

[ 33 ] Thus in my glimpse of Nietzsche's soul in 1896 there appeared before me what one who looked toward the spirit had to suffer from the conception of nature prevailing at the end of the nineteenth century.

• 1. Nietzsche as the Adversary of His Age.
• 2. The Will to Power, a Transvaluation of all Values.
• 3. Goethe's World-Conception.
• 4. The Course of Philosophy as a Strictly Scientific World-Conception and Shaping of Life
• 5. Nietzsche's Doctrine of the Eternal Repetition.
• 6. The Will to Power, a Transvaluation of all Values.

We have seen how Schiller tried, in each one of his later plays, to solve the problem of the dramatic. There is something sublime in observing how, after every success—and the success was considerable (he was recognised by the best men of his time, even though there was not a complete absence of hostility)—he tried with each new play to climb to greater heights. All the later plays, Tell, the Bride of Messina, the Maid of Orleans, Demetrius, are simply efforts to attain to the problem of the dramatic and the tragic in a new form. He never rested satisfied in a belief that he had exhausted psychology. In Maria Stuart we have seen him treating the problem of destiny, creating a situation complete in itself in which only the characters have to unfold themselves. In the Maid of Orleans, he dug still deeper into the human soul. He plunged into the depths of human psychology and set out the problem, in the sense that Hebbel meant, when he said that tragedy must have some relation to the irrational. Thus, in the Maid of Orleans we have the effects of dark soul forces: the Maid is almost like a sleep-walker, under the influence of what we may call the demonic and is carried forward by it. She is to stand far above humanity, and only because she is a maid, has she the right to pass through the ranks of her enemies, for her country's sake, like a destroying angel.

In the Bride of Messina, Schiller tries to get a still higher conception of the drama and to reach back to the primal drama—that drama, which came even before Aeschylus and was not merely art but also an integral constituent of a truth which included religion, science and art; that Dionysos-drama which put the suffering, dying and resurgent god on the stage as representative of all humanity. In such cases the action was not what we should nowadays call poetry. It was the world-drama that was set before man's eyes, the truth in beautiful and artistic form; it was meant to elevate man and fortify him religiously. Thus the Mystery drama contained, for the spectators, what developed later, in separate form, as religion, art and philosophy.

This line of thought which Friedrich Nietzsche developed in his Birth of Tragedy from the Spirit of Music, in which he regarded the primal drama as the higher form, was already alive in Schiller. Schiller's idea of raising the beautiful to higher levels by re-introducing the musical element, was taken up again by Wagner and received monumental expression in his musical dramas: Wagner harked back to the myth and chose music, so as to express himself, not in everyday but in elevated language. The direction which art followed in the Wagner circle was indicated by Schiller. In his short introduction to the Bride of Messina he gives it plastic and pregnant expression. True art must give a freedom of the spirit in the living play of all its forces. That shows what there was in Schiller.

We have seen how Schiller's spirit climbed upward by help of Goethe. He himself called Goethe's mind intuitive, his own symbolical; and this a significant saying.

Schiller always thought of men fundamentally as representatives of a type; he thought of them in a sort of symphony. We can see the drama growing out of a sort of musical mood, and hence comes that symphony of human characters, acting and suffering. So it became necessary to make single traits into symbols of great human experience. Hence Schiller became the poet of idealism: he used experience to bring the ideals to earth and to clothe them in his characters. The problem of the human I, the question how man works in his environment, was, for him, the central point.

In the Bride of Messina, he wanted to produce the Greek tragedy of destiny in a new form. There must be something in the human soul which makes men take their decisions not reasonably—else they would act more intelligently—there must be something dark in them, something like the “daimon” of Socrates. That must be working from the spiritual world. It is this something which the reason cannot grasp, which Schiller allows to play into his tragedy; and the way in which he does it shows him as quite a modern. The action begins with two dreams: The Duke of Messina dreams of a flame which destroys two laurel bushes. The dream is interpreted by an Arabian astrologist as meaning that the daughter, born to him, will bring destruction on his sons; and he orders her death. But the Duchess has dreamed at the same time of a child by whose side an eagle and a lion lie nestled together; her dream also is interpreted; a Christian monk tells her that her daughter will unite the two disputing brothers in love for herself; and so she saves the child.

In this way the dark and undetermined enters at the very beginning of the action. It is a fine point that the first dream should be interpreted by an Arabian, the second by a Christian; but Schiller does not take sides. If we take out all that is mystical and dreamlike, there remains only the quarrel of the brothers; and this rational action is still dramatic. The stroke of genius and of special art is that each element is a whole; even without the mystical the action is a unity. Thus Schiller has put into this with skill and art something which goes beyond human consciousness.—In this way he had reached a still higher answer to his question.

He uses the same human psychology in Tell. I am not going to analyse the drama, only to show what Schiller was to the Nineteenth Century and what he will still be to us. It is not to no purpose that he sets Tell apart from the general structure of the drama:

“Yet, what you do—leave me apart from your councils. I cannot ponder long, or choose. But if you need my too-determined deed, then summon Tell and he will not fail you.” He acts, not like the others, under the impulse of the idea of freedom, but from purely personal feeling, offended paternal sense. Two lines run together, the one which concerns Tell alone, the other felt by the whole Swiss people. Schiller wanted to show how things do not run, in man, always along the one line. We can see the same thing in Hebbel's Judith where her country's needs fall together with her wounded woman's feelings; the poet requires something which grows immediately from out of the human heart.

Schiller has no use for the merely moral or the merely material; the moral must descend and become a personal passion. Man only becomes free when he controls his personal feeling in such a way that it unites with the universal. He worked, step by step, on the completion of his psychology, and his idealism becomes more and more clarified. That is the magic which lives in Schiller's plays. His deep aesthetic studies were not in vain; not in vain his absorption in these problems.

Now all the writings in the Nineteenth Century of men like Vischer, Hartmann, Fechner, etc., important and true as they may be, always put the beautiful outside man. But Schiller always studied what went on within the human soul, how the beautiful acts upon it. For that reason, we are moved so deeply and intimately by what he says, and we can read his prose works with delight again and again. It would be a worthy way of celebrating the Schiller anniversary if these writings were published and read far and wide; they would contribute much to deepening the human spirit in an artistic and moral direction. We might also make a selection for purposes of education from his Aesthetic Letters; and a wholly new attitude would come into our pedagogic system. If we are to understand Schiller's plays, we must breathe the fine air of real education that lies in his aesthetic works.

If we want further insight into the way in which Schiller penetrated deeper and deeper into the human heart, we can get in by a study of the—unfortunately uncompleted—Demetrius. This might have become a play than which even Shakespeare could not have written anything more powerful and affecting. Many attempts have been made to complete the work but no one has proved equal to the task.

The wholly tragic conflict—though there is plenty of action, such as that for instance in the Polish Parliament—is centred entirely in the ego; that is the significant thing. We cannot say that our senses, perceptions and feelings are our ego; we are what we are, because the thinking and feeling of the world around us, press upon us. This Demetrius has grown up without himself knowing what his ego is. During a significant action for which he is to be executed, a certain token is found on his person. It appears that the inheritance of the throne of the Czars is his. Everything points in this one direction, and he cannot but believe that he is the heir to the Russian throne. He is thus driven to a definite configuration of the ego; threads, spun without, drive him onward. The movement is victorious; Demetrius develops the character of a Czar. But then, when his ego is concordant with the world around him, he learns that he has been mistaken; he is not the true heir. He is no longer the person as which he had found himself. He stands in the presence of his mother, who honours him; but so strong is the voice of nature that she cannot recognise him as son—while he has become that which he had imagined to himself. He can no longer throw it from himself; yet the preconditions of this ego fall from him.

Here is an infinitely tragic conflict. All is centred on a personality which is drawn with infinite art, and which we may believe “will not lord it over slaves.” The external also was added with all the skill of which only Schiller was capable. Thus Sapieha, Demetrius' opponent, indicates prophetically the character of Demetrius. Here also the symmetry is striven after which is achieved in the Wallenstein. The drama was never finished; death intervened. There is something tragic in Schiller's death; all the hopes that were centred on him found expression in the letters and words of his contemporaries. Deeply affected by the loss of one from whom so much more was hoped, men like W. v. Humboldt, for instance, allowed their feelings to find utterance:

“He was snatched from the world in the ripe maturity of his spiritual powers; there is infinitely much more he might have accomplished. For many years more he might have enjoyed the bliss of poetic creation.”

That is the tone which makes his death tragic—for in the ordinary course of things death does not bear this irrational quality. In such mood Goethe found for his dead friend the following words in his Epilogue to Schiller's Glocke:

Und hinter ihm in wesenlosem Scheme
Lag, was uns alle bändigt, das Gemeine.

Behind him lay in unessential feint
What holds us all in bondage, the common trivial.

This mighty strain of idealism can be seen continuing through the Nineteenth Century. Men began to realise that Schiller's spirit was sublime enough to work as consolation and example to his people in all their struggles.

This continued activity of Schiller's idealism in the spiritual quality of Germany was described effectively by C. Gutzkow in his speech during the Schiller celebrations at Dresden on 10th November 1859:

“Here lies the secret of our love for Schiller. He lifts up our hearts; he gives us courage for action, a never-failing help which the nation finds in every circumstance of its life. Our memories of Schiller arouse in us courage and gladness. Deep, rich, intimate and delightful Goethe may charm us all in his creation which reminds us of home manners and custom, is like ivy which welds itself to the past, sadly and dreamily. But in Schiller everything lies in the future, the waving of flags or crowning with the laurel. For this reason, it is that we celebrate the hundredth anniversary of his name, ringing and echoing like a blow on a shield of bronze. All honour to the poet of action, the bulwark of the German fatherland.”

[ 1 ] The inner life of man assumes another form from that of ordinary consciousness when it enters upon imaginative knowledge. His relationship to the world is also changed. This change is brought about by the concentration of all the powers of the soul on a presentation-complex which can easily be seen in its entirety. This last condition is necessary to avoid any kind of unconscious process playing a part in the meditation; for in this everything must come to pass only within the psychic and spiritual spheres. The man who thinks out a mathematical problem can be fairly certain that he is employing only psychic-spiritual forces. Unconscious memories, influenced by feeling or will, will not enter into it. It must be the same with Meditation. If we take for it a thought which is brought up out of memory, we cannot know how much at the same time we introduce into the consciousness from the physical, or instinctive, or unconsciously psychical, and cause it to react in the soul on the presentation during meditation. It is, therefore, best to choose for a subject of meditation something which one knows for certain to be quite new to the soul. If we seek advice on this point from an experienced spiritual investigator, he will lay particular stress on this. He will recommend a subject which is perfectly simple and which quite certainly cannot have occurred to us before. It is of no importance that the subject should even correspond with some known fact taken from the world of the senses. We can take as an idea something pictorial, but not necessarily representing a picture of the outer world, e.g., ‘In Light lives streaming Wisdom’. It depends on the power of reposeful meditation with such an image-presentation. The spiritual and psychic powers are strengthened by such a calm meditation just as the muscles are strengthened by performing a piece of work. The meditation can be short at a time, but it must be repeated over a long period to be successful. With one person success can be attained after a few weeks, with another only after years, according to natural predisposition. The man who wishes to be a true Spiritual Investigator must do such exercises systematically and intensively. The first result of meditation in the way here indicated is that the man who practises it has through his inner life a greater control over the statements of a Spiritual Investigator than the man of ordinary healthy intellect, though the latter, if sufficiently unfettered and unprejudiced, is also quite capable of such control.

[ 2 ] Meditation must call to its aid the exercise in character strengthening, inner truthfulness, calmness of soul, self-possession and deliberation. For only then, when it is thoroughly imbued with these qualities, will the soul gradually imprint on the whole human organization what in meditation appears as a process.

[ 3 ] When success is reached by means of such exercises, we find ourselves in the etheric organism. The thought-experience receives a new form. We experience the thoughts not only in the abstract form as before, but in such a way that one feels the power in them. Thoughts of former experience can only be thoughts, they have no power to stimulate action. Whereas the thoughts we now have, have as much power as the powers of growth which accompany man from childhood to maturity, and just for this reason it is necessary to carry out meditation in the right way. For if unconscious forces intervene in it, if it is not an act of complete and deliberate thoughtfulness, and done in self-possession taking a purely psychic and spiritual course, impulses are developed which step in as do the natural powers of growth in our own human organism. This must in no wise occur. Our own physical and etheric organism must remain completely untouched by meditation. The right kind of meditation enables us to live with the newly-developed power of thought-content quite outside our own physical and etheric organism. We have the etheric experience; and our organism itself attains to a personal experience of a relationship with a relative objectivity. We look at it (our organism) and in the form of thought it radiates back what we experience in the ether. [ 4 ] This experience is healthy if we arrive at the condition in which we can with complete freedom of choice alternate between an existence in the ether and one in our physical body. The condition is not right if there is something which forces us into the etheric existence. We must be able to be in ourselves and outside ourselves in accordance with perfectly free orientation.

[ 5 ] The first experience which we can win through such an inner labour is a review of the course of our own past life on earth. We see it as it has progressed by means of the powers of growth from childhood upwards. We see it in thought-pictures which are condensed into powers of growth. They are not simply remembered scenes of our own life which we have before us. They are pictures of an etheric course of events, which have happened in our own existence, without having been taken into the ordinary consciousness. That which the consciousness and memory hold is only the abstract accompanying appearance of the real course. It is, as it were, a surface wave which is in its shape the result of something deeper.

[ 6 ] In the process of viewing this progress the working of the etheric Cosmos on man is brought out. We can experience this work as the subject-matter of Philosophy. It is wisdom, not in the abstract form of the conception, but rather in the form of the working of the etheric in the Cosmos.

[ 7 ] In ordinary consciousness it is only the young child who has not yet learnt to speak who is in the same relationship to the Cosmos as the man who uses his imagination correctly. The child has not yet separated the powers of thought from the general (etheric) powers of growth. This happens only when he learns to speak. Then the powers of abstract thought are separated from the universal powers of growth which alone were previously present. In the course of his later life man has these powers of abstract thought, but they are part of his physical organism, and are not taken up into his etheric being. He cannot, therefore, bring his relationship to the etheric world into his consciousness. He can learn to do this , through Imagination.

[ 8 ] A quite small child is an unconscious philosopher; the ‘imaginative philosopher’ is again a small child, but wakened to full consciousness.

[ 9 ] Through the exercise of ‘Inspiration’ a new capacity is added to those already developed, namely, the capacity to obliterate from the consciousness pictures which have been dwelt upon in meditation. It must be clearly emphasized that here the capacity must be developed again to obliterate when one likes pictures which have previously been taken up in meditation by one's freewill. It is not enough to obliterate presentations which have not been implanted in the consciousness by free choice. It requires a greater psychic effort to abolish pictures which have been created in meditation than to extinguish those which have entered into the consciousness in another way. And we need this greater effort to advance in supersensible knowledge.

[ 10 ] On such lines we achieve a wakeful, but quite empty soul-life; we remain in conscious wakefulness. If this condition is experienced in full thoughtfulness the soul becomes filled with spiritual facts, as through the senses it is filled with physical. And this is the condition of ‘Inspiration’. We live an inner life in the Cosmos just as we live an inner life in the physical organism. But we are aware that we are experiencing the cosmic life, that the spiritual things and processes of the Cosmos are being revealed to us as our own inner soul-life. Now the possibility must have remained of always momentarily exchanging this inner experience of the Cosmos with the condition of ordinary consciousness. For then we can always relate what we experience in Inspiration to something we experience in ordinary consciousness. We see in the Cosmos that is perceived by the senses a reproduction of what we have spiritually experienced. The process may be compared with that by which one compares a new experience in life with a memory-picture which rises in the consciousness. The spiritual outlook which we have won is like the new experience, and the physical view of the Cosmos like the memory-picture.

[ 11 ] This spiritual outlook, thus attained, differs from the imaginative. In the latter we have general pictures of an etheric occurrence; in the former, pictures appear of spiritual beings who live and move in this etheric occurrence. What we know in the physical world as Sun and Moon, Planets and Fixed Stars, these we find again as Cosmic beings; and our own psychic-spiritual experience appears enclosed in the orbit of these cosmic essences. The physical organism of man now becomes intelligible for the first time, for not only all that his senses take in Contributes to its shape and life, but also the beings who work creatively in the affairs of the sense-world. Everything which is thus experienced through inspiration remains completely shut out from the ordinary consciousness. Man would only be conscious of it if he experienced the process of breathing in the same way as he experienced the process of observation. The cosmic disposition between man and world remains hidden for ordinary consciousness. The Yoga-philosophy seeks the road to a Cosmology whereby the process of breathing is transformed into a process of observation. Modern western man should not imitate that. In the course of human evolution he has entered upon an organization which for him excludes such Yoga-exercises. He would never through them get quite away from his organism, and so would not satisfy the requirement to leave untouched his physical and etheric organism. Such practices corresponded with a period of evolution which has gone by. But what was attained by them had to be gained in the same way as has just been described for inspired knowledge; the method, that is, of experiencing in a state of full consciousness what in past times man had to experience in waking dreams.

[ 12 ] If the Philosopher is a child with fully-developed consciousness, the Cosmologist must become in a fully conscious way a man of past ages, in which the Spirit of the Cosmos could still be seen by means of natural faculties.

[ 13 ] In ‘Intuition’ man is completely translated—through the exercises of the Will described last time—together with his consciousness into the objective world of the cosmic, spiritual beings. He attains a condition of experience which alone on earth the first men had. They were in as close a connection with the inwardness of their cosmic surroundings as they were with the processes of their own bodies. And these processes were not completely unconscious as with modern man. They were reflected in the soul. Man felt in the soul his growth, and the chemical changes of his body, as in waking dream-pictures. And this experience enabled him to feel also the processes of his cosmic circumstances with their spiritual inwardness as in a dream. He had dreamlike intuition of which we find to-day only an echo in some people specially inclined to it. The world around him was, in the consciousness of primitive man, both material and spiritual; and what he experienced then in a semi-dream state was for him religious revelation, a direct continuation of the other aspects of his life. These experiences in the spirit world, of which primitive man was only half conscious, remain completely unknown to modern man. The man with supersensible, intuitive knowledge brings them into his full consciousness, and so in a new way he is transported back to the condition of primitive man, who still derived the religious content from his world-consciousness.

[ 14 ] As the Philosopher resembles the fully-conscious child, and the Cosmologist the fully-conscious man of a past middle human period, so the man with religious cognition in a modern sense resembles primitive man, except that he experiences the spiritual world in his soul, not as in a dream, but with full consciousness.

Dear attendees!

As always before these performances, I would like to take the liberty of saying a few words today, first about our eurythmic art, for those of the honored audience who were not present at earlier performances.

Goethe said of his artistic sensibilities: When man is placed at the summit of nature, he feels himself to be a whole nature, bringing forth a higher nature from within himself by extracting order, measure, harmony and meaning from all phenomena and ultimately rising to the production of the work of art. It is out of this spirit, out of true Goetheanism, that our eurythmic art was born. I do not wish to give you a theoretical discussion in these few words, for it is self-evident that something truly artistic needs no explanation but must commend itself and be understood directly in the act of presentation. But the way in which an attempt is being made here to create an art form must be discussed in order to be understood.

They will show all kinds of movements performed by people and groups of people. You will see the way individuals within the groups relate to one another. All the movements that appear are born out of the human organism and the interaction between people. They are not contrived or arbitrary in any way, but are a real, silent language.

The development of this art is based on a deeper - to use Goethe's expression - [sensual-transcendental insight into the human being and its connection with the world. With such a sensory-supersensory insight into the human being, one can recognize which lawful movements the human larynx and its neighboring organs carry out when a person reveals the sounding, audible language or singing of himself. It is precisely those things to which we do not pay attention when we listen to spoken language, the internal movement and especially the movement patterns, that have been studied here according to Goethe's principle of metamorphosis, according to which what is formed or takes place in one organ system can be transferred to other organ systems or to the whole organism. According to this deeply significant law of Goethe's metamorphosis, what otherwise underlies movements or the potential for movement is quite naturally transferred to human speech, [via] the movements of the limbs of the human being in the world. And this is precisely how the possibility arises that the sight of such a mute language must have an artistic effect. For what is the artistic in human beings actually based on? It is based on the fact that we receive impressions of the life of nature and of human beings without the abstract imagination, or imagination at all, mixing into these impressions.

In ordinary language – even when expressed poetically – two elements of the human organism are embodied: on the one hand, the element of thought, which in more advanced, civilized language has already taken on a strongly conventional character, and on the other hand, the more subconscious will element, the emotional element, is at the root of it. If one can eliminate the thought element from speech, which crystallizes into the tone of the heard language and thus does not allow the heard language to be completely artistic, then one achieves something that can be believed to be particularly artistic. And so all the movements of speech are transferred to the human limbs; but only the will element is incorporated. The human being as a whole expresses itself, not through sharp gestures as in other dance or similar arts, but the human being as a whole expresses itself in a lawful way.

Therefore, there is nothing arbitrary, nothing merely pantomime or mimic in this eurythmy. If two people or groups of people in completely different places express one and the same piece of poetry or one and the same piece of music through this formal language of eurythmy, there is no more individuality in the two different performances than there is in the performance of one and the same Beethoven sonata by two different pianists. All arbitrariness is avoided. There are inner laws in the sequence of movements that could not be otherwise, because they are derived from the essence of nature itself. Just as the harmony and melody of music have an inner lawfulness, so here everything that is revealed in the movements has an inner, musical lawfulness. We are dealing here with a visible musical art.

Thus you will find many things presented in two ways, either at the same time through music and eurythmy or through recitation and eurythmy. In this, recitation must return to its old, good element, where it is not cultivated only for its prosaic, literal content, as it is today, but for the rhythmic, the measured quality of the sound, which is what actually constitutes the artistry of the poem. For what is felt today as poetry is not, in the first instance, the actual artistry of the poetry, but the prose content of the poem. It is the formal, the rhythmic, the metrical that underlies it, and an inner lawfulness of the essence of the world is revealed.

In the second part, we will present Christmas plays today and tomorrow, today a Paradise Play.

We resumed these plays several years ago. I can say that I myself have a very close connection with the revival of the plays in our family. It is now almost forty years since I became acquainted with these plays through one of the men who has rendered the greatest service to their collection, through my revered friend and teacher Karl Julius Schröer. Schröer was one of the first to collect these games together with Weinhold, Schröer in particular. While Weinhold collected them in Silesia, Karl Julius Schröer collected them in the Oberufer region near Pressburg [Bratislava], where Germans had advanced towards the parts of European territories where other languages were spoken as a result of emigration from more western European areas.

The Hungarian countryside is permeated by old German colonists: in Transylvania, where the Saxons settled, in the Banat, where the Swabians came from the areas around Lake Constance, in Alsace, in what is now southern Württemberg, in northern Switzerland – numerous colonists moved into the areas of northwestern Hungary. And they brought with them those Christmas plays, those Bible plays, which were performed in their original form in the German motherland until the 16th century, and later only remained in a few places, fairly unnoticed by the educated world. In the colonies, especially in the Oberufer region, near the island of Schütt, near Pressburg, the practice of playing these Christmas games in a dignified manner every year around Christmas time has become established and was preserved until the forties, fifties and even sixties of the last century. And when they began to disappear from the scene, Karl Julius Schröer collected these Christmas games in the Hungarian region of Oberufer.

It is extremely interesting to observe these Christmas plays. They provide cultural-historical evidence of the way in which Christianity was actually introduced in Europe in centuries past, and how it affected the entire spiritual life of the people. Schröer had still observed it himself, and we often talked about these things, and he told me with what dignity, with what inner participation the people celebrated these Christmas games. They were well preserved by particularly select farmers in the village concerned, by particularly respected people. They were passed down from father to son, from son to grandson, and were held sacred; they were not easily shared with outsiders. It took a great deal of effort for Karl Julius Schröer to get them out. But, as I said, it was already the dawn of this play for the German colonists in Hungary.

When October, the harvest season, approached, the person who was considered the master of the arts in these farming and working-class areas – these were mostly extremely poor communities even back then, these German communities in Hungary – he gathered the local boys he considered most worthy, and he rehearsed these Christmas plays with them. The dignity with which this was done may be gathered from the fact that, under strict disciplinary laws, those who were allowed to participate were not allowed to leave during the entire period of the play. This is expressly prescribed for those who were allowed to participate: that they are not allowed to go to the pub or indulge in any other debauchery during the entire time. During the whole time, that meant a lot: it was immediately after the grape harvest was over that one was not allowed to get drunk. Anyone who somehow violated these rules was immediately dismissed.

All the roles were played by young men. The old custom of not allowing women to participate in comedy plays, including sacred comedies, was still in place, although the educated world had long since abandoned it. However, it was still preserved and noticeable at these festival plays. And from this one can see how ancient and sacred customs have been preserved in the performance of these plays. So tomorrow, for example, we will perform a play for you, a pastoral play, in which the Rhine is mentioned, from which one can see how these plays were originally, at least as late as the sixteenth century, were performed near Lake Constance. These things take us back, I would say, to the sixth century, so that we have before us the living out of Christian life as if it were happening right in front of us.

To present something like this, I would say, as a directly revealing story to the contemporary world, that is what we would like to make our task. Now that everything that is cultural life has become so sober, so dry and so abstract, now is the time to go back to such things, which, in directly vivid imagery, by raising the old into the present, transport us back into the becoming, into the development of humanity.

Of course, since we are not dealing with trained actors, I would ask you to receive this performance, as well as the eurythmy performance itself, as one of our modest attempts. We ourselves believe that what our eurythmy art has become today is only a beginning. It is indeed a supreme artistic aspiration to apply the human being as an instrument in art, not the violin, not the piano, not the trumpet, but the human being. Especially when you consider how all the laws of nature are somehow in action in the speaking human being, then you will know how to appreciate the ideal on which eurythmy is based. But it is only just beginning. We are our own harshest critics, and so I ask you to please be very indulgent as you take it all in.

It should also be mentioned that the eurythmy performance will include not only individual pieces but also the Norwegian “Dream Song of Olaf Ästeson”. It comes from the oldest Nordic folk myth that can be expressed artistically; it was rediscovered when, alongside the Statsmäl [Riksmäl], the Landsmäl of the old Norwegian language, the popular Norwegian language, was cultivated. This dream song, this Traumlied, gave the impression of genuine Norwegian folklore, and with the help of friends in high places, I tried to express in our present language that which leads back to ancient European-Nordic times in this poem.

I would like to say that this “Dream Song” expresses a very popular worldview, a worldview that is particularly loved in those cultures that have developed on the one hand in the particularly shaped way of life in Norway and in the influence of the neighboring cultures. I would say that here, too, we can see into the depths of human feeling – especially in the way that the relationship between Nordic, clairvoyant paganism and the Christianity that was spreading there flows into one another here in the 'Dream Song'. What has emerged from the confluence of these two world currents, taken up as an elementary, original folklore and its worldviews, is actually enshrouded in mystery in this “Dream Song of Olaf Åsteson”.