The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Two souls reside, alas, within my breast,
And each one from the other would be parted.
The one holds fast, in sturdy lust for love,
With clutching organs clinging to the world;
The other strongly rises from the gloom
To lofty fields of ancient heritage.

Faust I, Scene 2, lines 1112-1117.

[ 1 ] In these words Goethe expresses a characteristic feature which is deeply rooted in human nature. Man is not organized as a self-consistent unity. He always demands more than the world, of its own accord, gives him. Nature has endowed us with needs; among them are some that she leaves to our own activity to satisfy. Abundant as are the gifts she has bestowed upon us, still more abundant are our desires. We seem born to be dissatisfied. And our thirst for knowledge is but a special instance of this dissatisfaction. We look twice at a tree. The first time we see its branches at rest, the second time in motion. We are not satisfied with this observation. Why, we ask, does the tree appear to us now at rest, now in motion? Every glance at Nature evokes in us a multitude of questions. Every phenomenon we meet sets us a new problem. Every experience is a riddle. We see that from the egg there emerges a creature like the mother animal, and we ask the reason for the likeness. We observe a living being grow and develop to a certain degree of perfection, and we seek the underlying conditions for this experience. Nowhere are we satisfied with what Nature spreads out before our senses. Everywhere we seek what we call the explanation of the facts.

[ 2 ] The something more which we seek in things, over and above what is immediately given to us in them, splits our whole being into two parts. We become conscious of our antithesis to the world. We confront the world as independent beings. The universe appears to us in two opposite parts: I and World.

[ 3 ] We erect this barrier between ourselves and the world as soon as consciousness first dawns in us. But we never cease to feel that, in spite of all, we belong to the world, that there is a connecting link between it and us, and that we are beings within, and not without, the universe.

[ 4 ] This feeling makes us strive to bridge over this antithesis, and in this bridging lies ultimately the whole spiritual striving of mankind. The history of our spiritual life is a continuing search for the unity between ourselves and the world. Religion, art and science follow, one and all, this aim. The religious believer seeks in the revelation which God grants him the solution to the universal riddle which his I, dissatisfied with the world of mere appearance, sets before him. The artist seeks to embody in his material the ideas that are in his I, in order to reconcile what lives in him with the world outside. He too feels dissatisfied with the world of mere appearance and seeks to mould into it that something more which his I, transcending it, contains. The thinker seeks the laws of phenomena, and strives to penetrate by thinking what he experiences by observing. Only when we have made the world-content into our thought-content do we again find the unity out of which we had separated ourselves. We shall see later that this goal can be reached only if the task of the research scientist is conceived at a much deeper level than is often the case. The whole situation I have described here presents itself to us on the stage of history in the conflict between the one-world theory, or monism, and the two-world theory, or dualism.

Dualism pays attention only to the separation between I and World which the consciousness of man has brought about. All its efforts consist in a vain struggle to reconcile these opposites, which it calls now spirit and matter, now subject and object, now thinking and appearance. It feels that there must be a bridge between the two worlds but is not in a position to find it. In that man is aware of himself as “I”, he cannot but think of this “I” as being on the side of the spirit; and in contrasting this “I” with the world, he is bound to put on the world's side the realm of percepts given to the senses, that is, the world of matter. In doing so, man puts himself right into the middle of this antithesis of spirit and matter. He is the more compelled to do so because his own body belongs to the material world. Thus the “I”, or Ego, belongs to the realm of spirit as a part of it; the material objects and events which are perceived by the senses belong to the “World”. All the riddles which relate to spirit and matter, man must inevitably rediscover in the fundamental riddle of his own nature.

Monism pays attention only to the unity and tries either to deny or to slur over the opposites, present though they are. Neither of these two points of view can satisfy us, for they do not do justice to the facts. Dualism sees in spirit (I) and matter (World) two fundamentally different entities, and cannot, therefore, understand how they can interact with one another. How should spirit be aware of what goes on in matter, seeing that the essential nature of matter is quite alien to spirit? Or how in these circumstances should spirit act upon matter, so as to translate its intentions into actions? The most ingenious and the most absurd hypotheses have been propounded to answer these questions. Up to the present, however, monism is not in a much better position. It has tried three different ways of meeting the difficulty. Either it denies spirit and becomes materialism; or it denies matter in order to seek its salvation in spiritualism;¹ or it asserts that even in the simplest entities in the world, spirit and matter are indissolubly bound together so that there is no need to marvel at the appearance in man of these two modes of existence, seeing that they are never found apart.

[ 5 ] Materialism can never offer a satisfactory explanation of the world. For every attempt at an explanation must begin with the formation of thoughts about the phenomena of the world. Materialism thus begins with the thought of matter or material processes. But, in doing so, it is already confronted by two different sets of facts: the material world, and the thoughts about it. The materialist seeks to make these latter intelligible by regarding them as purely material processes. He believes that thinking takes place in the brain, much in the same way that digestion takes place in the animal organs. Just as he attributes mechanical and organic effects to matter, so he credits matter in certain circumstances with the capacity to think. He overlooks that, in doing so, he is merely shifting the problem from one place to another. He ascribes the power of thinking to matter instead of to himself. And thus he is back again at his starting point. How does matter come to think about its own nature? Why is it not simply satisfied with itself and content just to exist? The materialist has turned his attention away from the definite subject, his own I, and has arrived at an image of something quite vague and indefinite. Here the old riddle meets him again. The materialistic conception cannot solve the problem; it can only shift it from one place to another.

[ 6 ] What of the spiritualistic theory? The genuine spiritualist denies to matter all independent existence and regards it merely as a product of spirit. But when he tries to use this theory to solve the riddle of his own human nature, he finds himself driven into a corner. Over against the “I” or Ego, which can be ranged on the side of spirit, there stands directly the world of the senses. No spiritual approach to it seems open. Only with the help of material processes can it be perceived and experienced by the “I”. Such material processes the “I” does not discover in itself so long as it regards its own nature as exclusively spiritual. In what it achieves spiritually by its own effort, the sense-perceptible world is never to be found. It seems as if the “I” had to concede that the world would be a closed book to it unless it could establish a non-spiritual relation to the world. Similarly, when it comes to action, we have to translate our purposes into realities with the help of material things and forces. We are, therefore, referred back to the outer world. The most extreme spiritualist—or rather, the thinker who through his absolute idealism appears as extreme spiritualist—is Johann Gottlieb Fichte. He attempts to derive the whole edifice of the world from the “I”. What he has actually accomplished is a magnificent thought-picture of the world, without any content of experience. As little as it is possible for the materialist to argue the spirit away, just as little is it possible for the spiritualist to argue away the outer world of matter.

[ 7 ] When man reflects upon the “I”, he perceives in the first instance the work of this “I” in the conceptual elaboration of the world of ideas. Hence a world-conception that inclines towards spiritualism may feel tempted, in looking at man's own essential nature, to acknowledge nothing of spirit except this world of ideas. In this way spiritualism becomes one-sided idealism. Instead of going on to penetrate through the world of ideas to the spiritual world, idealism identifies the spiritual world with the world of ideas itself. As a result, it is compelled to remain fixed with its world-outlook in the circle of activity of the Ego, as if bewitched.

[ 8 ] A curious variant of idealism is to be found in the view which Friedrich Albert Lange has put forward in his widely read History of Materialism. He holds that the materialists are quite right in declaring all phenomena, including our thinking, to be the product of purely material processes, but, conversely, matter and its processes are for him themselves the product of our thinking.

The senses give us only the effects of things, not true copies, much less the things themselves. But among these mere effects we must include the senses themselves together with the brain and the molecular vibrations which we assume to go on there.

That is, our thinking is produced by the material processes, and these by the thinking of our I. Lange's philosophy is thus nothing more than the story, in philosophical terms, of the intrepid Baron Münchhausen, who holds himself up in the air by his own pigtail.

[ 9 ] The third form of monism is the one which finds even in the simplest entity (the atom) both matter and spirit already united. But nothing is gained by this either, except that the question, which really originates in our consciousness, is shifted to another place. How comes it that the simple entity manifests itself in a two-fold manner, if it is an indivisible unity?

[ 10 ] Against all these theories we must urge the fact that we meet with the basic and primary opposition first in our own consciousness. It is we ourselves who break away from the bosom of Nature and contrast ourselves as “I” with the “World”. Goethe has given classic expression to this in his essay Nature, although his manner may at first sight be considered quite unscientific: “Living in the midst of her (Nature) we are strangers to her. Ceaselessly she speaks to us, yet betrays none of her secrets.” But Goethe knows the reverse side too: “Men are all in her and she in all.”

[ 11 ] However true it may be that we have estranged ourselves from Nature, it is none the less true that we feel we are in her and belong to her. It can be only her own working which pulsates also in us.

[ 12 ] We must find the way back to her again. A simple reflection can point this way out to us. We have, it is true, torn ourselves away from Nature, but we must none the less have taken something of her with us into our own being. This element of Nature in us we must seek out, and then we shall find the connection with her once more. Dualism fails to do this. It considers human inwardness as a spiritual entity utterly alien to Nature, and then attempts somehow to hitch it on to Nature. No wonder that it cannot find the connecting link. We can find Nature outside us only if we have first learned to know her within us. What is akin to her within us must be our guide. This marks out our path of enquiry. We shall attempt no speculations concerning the interaction of Nature and spirit. Rather shall we probe into the depths of our own being, to find there those elements which we saved in our flight from Nature.

[ 13 ] Investigation of our own being must give us the answer to the riddle. We must reach a point where we can say to ourselves, “Here we are no longer merely ‘I’, here is something which is more than ‘I’.”

[ 14 ] I am well aware that many who have read thus far will not find my discussion “scientific”, as this term is used today. To this I can only reply that I have so far been concerned not with scientific results of any kind, but with the simple description of what every one of us experiences in his own consciousness. The inclusion of a few phrases about attempts to reconcile man's consciousness and the world serves solely to elucidate the actual facts. I have therefore made no attempt to use the various expressions “I”, “Spirit”, “World”, “Nature”, in the precise way that is usual in psychology and philosophy. The ordinary consciousness is unaware of the sharp distinctions made by the sciences, and my purpose so far has been solely to record the facts of everyday experience. I am concerned, not with the way in which science, so far, has interpreted consciousness, but with the way in which we experience it in every moment of our lives.

• 1. The author refers to philosophical “spiritualism” as opposed to philosophical “materialism”. See reference to Fichte that follows.—Translator's Footnote.

[From the chapter “World of Thought, Personality, Peoplehood”] The thoughts that a person is able to form about reality easily come to fill his entire mental life. He believes that they give him a light that shines into all the secrets of the world. If he finds that someone has different thoughts from his own, he speaks of a different world view. He believes that the other person's thoughts contradict his own and that they therefore cannot exist alongside his own.

However, by judging in this way, one usually confuses two things that need to be kept separate by anyone who wants to gain insight into the true reasons why thinkers' ideas about reality differ so widely. This paper is based on the view that, when one looks more closely at the ideas that are believed to belong to different worldviews,

In the way that one speaks of the diversity of the worldviews of thinkers, two different causes of this diversity are lumped together, resulting in a confusion of concepts. A thinker can have thoughts about reality that differ from those of another, like the image of a tree photographed from one direction is different from that of the same tree photographed from another.

If one seeks to recognize how the forces of nationality are effective in the thinkers of a [people], then one will be able to find significant examples in such personalities as they have appeared in Planck, Troxler, 1. H. Fichte and others described in this writing. For the purpose of such a consideration is to find those popular instincts that also work in other branches of popular activity, and that drive their peculiarity into the world of thought in such thinkers. These forces often have no influence on the opinions that are then formed about the course and value of worldviews and that are expressed in the writing of history; and so it happens that thinkers rooted in the soil of their nation are often not only lonely during their lifetime, but that their thoughts are also lonely for posterity. The most effective forces of a people reveal themselves in their achievements; and the strength of the recognition, even the recognition of these forces, does not necessarily correspond to what has been achieved. If one says in response: yes, but this thinker, who is supposed to be so rooted in the people, has not had a great effect, one does not see how the forces at work in him are precisely those that continue to have an effect, that are indestructible. If we want to know the driving forces of a tree, we must not see how one branch affects another, but how the forces present in the trunk are manifested in the individual branch. It is not a matter of focusing on how this or that thinker has influenced these opinions, but rather on what forces of the folk-soul are at work in a personality.

It is important to see: this or that trait is national and it shows in the idiosyncrasy of this or that thinker.

How the national character works in the thinker.

If one seeks to recognize how the forces of national character are effective in the thinkers of a nation, /bricht ab]

Planck, like Troxler and some of the other personalities described here, has remained without a more far-reaching effect of the kind that is expressed in the recognition of contemporaries, in the dissemination of views and the like. But if one wants to identify thinkers in whom the essence of nationality lives, then he belongs among them. For what has become thought in him sprouts from the impulses of nationality. In his thoughts, it is precisely those impulses of the people that are often unconsciously at work, but which underlie the activity and achievements of the people.

What is expressed in all truly popular activity and achievement in the most diverse fields; what lives in the most diverse forms: in the case of such a thinker, it becomes a world of ideas. Materialism is not overcome by rejecting the view of a series of thinkers in the second half of the nineteenth century who considered all spiritual experiences to be a mere material effect, but by engaging in thinking about the spiritual in the sense that one thinks about nature in a natural way. What this means can already be seen from the preceding remarks in this essay, but it will be shown in particular in the final considerations intended as 'outlooks'.

A deepening of insight into the soul of a people can never lead to an underestimation of the essence and value of other peoples; it cannot indulge in such feelings as are today felt by many towards the German people.

The author of this writing hopes that it will be seen from it how far removed from him any appreciative immersion in the spiritual idiosyncrasy of a national character is from any misunderstanding and misrepresentation of the essence and value of other national characters. It would be unnecessary to say this at any other time; today it is necessary in view of the feelings that are now being expressed by many sides towards German nature.

The author of this essay hopes that it will be seen that his view, that a deeper understanding of the psychological characteristics of one nationality should not lead to a misunderstanding and misinterpretation of the nature and value of other nationalities, is apparent from it. It would be unnecessary to say this at other times. Today it is necessary.

[On the chapter 'Images from Austria's Intellectual Life': Robert Hamerling and 'Homunculus'

In his satirical poem “Homunculus”, Hamerling shows, so to speak, what would become of human life if what is merely presented as scientific theory were to be realized in reality. The human being who lives without a soul because he thinks in a spirit-shy way is the “homunculus”. In our time, this “homunculism” is having a wide impact. There is even talk of how homo sapiens of a bygone age is being transformed entirely into homo oeconomicus. This is /bricht ab]

Hamerling is looking for a worldview that incorporates a spiritual way of thinking into the purely scientific world of thought.

What would life be like if man were really what a world view presents him as being, one that only takes into account the sensory world? One could ask the question: what would a world order have to look like if it were a reality, one that a world view presents, one that only forms its ideas from the reality of the senses. If, therefore, the purely scientific mode of thought wants to be, so to speak, [breaks off]

In his satirical poem “Homunculus”, Hamerling portrays a person who is only what the world view takes him to be, which draws its ideas only from the sensory world.

The world of the scientific way of thinking is the world that man perceives in reality; but it is presented without anything by which it could make itself perceptible to any being.

What this way of thinking conceives as light and sound does not shine or resound. One only knows from life that one has gained the representations of this way of thinking from what shines and resounds, and therefore lives in the belief that what is imagined also shines and resounds.

When Mach speaks of sensation, he is pointing to that which is felt; but in thinking the object of the sensation, he must separate it from the ego. He does not realize that by doing so, he is thinking something that can no longer be felt. He also shows this by the fact that the concept of the ego completely dissipates. That he actually loses the “I” completely. It becomes a mythical concept. Because he does not consciously think of his world of feeling as imperceptible, it throws the perceiving ego out of his thinking. Thus Mach's view in particular becomes proof of what has been explained here.

Hamerling, however, is only standing before the experience of the seeing consciousness with a presentiment. This sees in the material of the brain the conditions for the soul entities to recognize themselves in their mirror image through the ordinary consciousness. Matter can never be the bearer of thought, but it can be the bearer of the images of consciousness of the creative thinking. The latter experiences itself in the vision of consciousness in its essence independent of matter and regards the material activity of the brain as spiritual activity becoming a real image.

With this thought, however, Hamerling is only intuitively approaching the point of view of the observing consciousness. To want to derive the thought in the human brain from the activity of the material atoms certainly remains a futile and foolish undertaking for all time. For it is no better than wanting to derive the mirror image of a person from the activity of the mirror.

But what ordinary consciousness knows as thoughts is only the reflection, brought about by the brain, of the living, thinking essence of the soul. One cannot say of this reflection that something in the processes of the brain is essentially the same as it. When the observing consciousness experiences itself in the essential nature of thoughts, then it also beholds in them the reality that underlies the brain. The brain is related to this reality as an image is to the essence that it visualizes.

Enhanced consciousness is not developed from ordinary consciousness through bodily (physiological) processes, as ordinary waking consciousness develops from dream consciousness. The intensification is a completely soul-spiritual experience that cannot have anything to do with bodily processes. When awakening from dream into waking consciousness, one is dealing with a changing attitude of the body; when awakening from ordinary consciousness to spirit-perceiving consciousness, one is dealing with a changing attitude of spiritual-soul experiences.

But the image-form of the thought in ordinary consciousness is also for the seeing consciousness a reflection of the essential being that is experienced in the soul. And when the soul, living and cognizant, becomes aware of itself in the observing consciousness, it knows itself to be in a reality within which the material substance of the brain is not essentially the same as the thoughts of the ordinary consciousness, but it is the same as the spiritual substance with which the thoughts reveal themselves. In the observing consciousness, the soul knows itself to be in the spiritual substance that the brain forms out of the creative spiritual substance. But what Hamerling describes in his Atomics of the Will would only correspond to this creative spiritual essence if he knew himself as living in the consciousness of vision and was striving to visualize the spiritual experience with his description.

That is the world in which the soul knows itself to be one with what [breaks off]

[To the chapter: “Images from the Thought Life of Austria”: Josef Misson]

Misson cannot be considered a thinker among those described in this writing. But if one considers what must have gone on in his soul life, it gives an understanding of the special coloring of the ideas of Austrian thinkers. But what lives in the constitution of his soul sheds light on Austrian thinkers. The thoughts of Schelling, Hegel and Planck can be vividly dissected like the limbs of a thought organism, so that each thought always grows out of the other; a popular element can be seen in this way of growing out of one another. The thoughts of Austrian thinkers stand like isolated plants on a spiritual ground from which they all grow in the same way, with each one less arising from the other. Therefore they do not so much bear the immediate popular character in their form, but more in their fundamental mood. Such a fundamental mood is, however, held back in the thinker; in a personality like Mission it appears as a yearning for the popular. — In Schröer, in Fercher, in Carneri, Hamerling it lives as the fundamental mood of their thoughts, while their content reveals less of it.

[On the chapter 'Images from the Thought Life of Austria': Oriental-Indian Mysticism]

A kind of counter-image to the purely scientific way of thinking is Oriental-Indian mysticism. The former does not reach the spirit because it loses itself in observing the senses; the latter does not enter into reality with its spiritual experience because it does not want to awaken from ordinary consciousness to the heightened consciousness meant here, but rather dampens ordinary consciousness, thereby falling into a dream-like recognition. She believes she is recognizing the spiritual by leaving the reality that is immediately present to her. But it is part of the real spiritual that this reality arises from it. Therefore, if one weaves as a knower in a spiritual world that has stripped away this reality, then this imagined spiritual world lacks what is in truth in the real spiritual world. This oriental-Indian mysticism also claims to overcome the “I” of ordinary consciousness. In truth, it only falls back to a level of consciousness that has not yet reached the “I”. The awakened consciousness meant in this writing goes beyond the level of consciousness at which the “I” has been attained. Ancient Indian mysticism is a kind of counter-image to the scientific way of thinking. If the former paints a world that is imperceptible, the latter paints a world in which life is lived spiritually, but nothing is to be perceived. The cognizant person does not seek to awaken from sensory reality to a heightened consciousness through the power of soul experiences, but withdraws from all reality in order to be alone with cognition. He believes that he has overcome reality, while he has only withdrawn his consciousness from it, and in a sense left it standing outside itself with all its difficulties and riddles. The knower also believes that he has become free of the “I” and, in a selfless devotion to the spiritual world, is one with it. In reality, he has only obscured the experience of the “I” for his consciousness and unconsciously lives entirely in the “I”. Instead of awakening from the ordinary consciousness of self, he falls back into a dreamy consciousness. He thinks he has solved the riddles of existence, when in fact he has only turned his soul's gaze away from them. He has the pleasant feeling of knowledge because he no longer feels the riddle of knowledge weighing on him. One can have to say all this to oneself and still have no less admiration and understanding for the magnificent creation of the Bhagavad-Gita or other products of this mysticism than someone to whom the above only gives the impression that it must have been written by someone who simply has no sense for the sublimity of these creations. One should not believe that only the unconditional follower of a world view can fully appreciate it. I write this here, knowing that I have no less appreciation for Indian mysticism and no less experience with it than any of its followers.

Preliminary note: Walter Johannes Stein's lecture was not written down. The questions from the participants were submitted in writing.

Question: How is it that the color perception on the right and left is of different intensities?

Rudolf Steiner: This is connected with the fact that the entire vitality in the human being is different on the left and right. We are not at all organized in such a way that the human being functions the same on both sides - the left-handed person and the right-handed person, if I may say so. That which lives in our consciousness is actually always an intermediate state between that which lives through the left-handed person and that which lives through the right-handed person, and the extreme states, the lopsidedness and so on, are just radical formations of that which is actually already present in every person by nature. The difference in intensity stems from the fact that we, as symmetrical human beings, live and function with the two [dis]symmetrical parts in varying degrees of intensity.

The next question was: What is the significance of the warmth points? To what extent can the warmth points be regarded as organs of warmth perception, of general inner and outer perception?

In general, however, something comes into consideration that would be extremely difficult to explain in brief. I would have to give you a whole lecture about it. What is referred to here as heat points, they do not actually serve like the sense organs, but they serve to spread the sensations of warmth as such throughout our organization, so that we identify ourselves with the warmth within us.

This spreading is actually essentially there to perceive us in the sensation of warmth as a unified being, as we must generally hold that we as human beings are organized in such a way that we also stand out from our animal nature through our sensory organization. Our animal nature is actually organized in the way our sensory physiologists usually describe it. In contrast, our human senses are formed in such a way that the orientation towards the I is already inherent in the individual sensory activities. The I is basically a resultant of the twelve partial effects that come together from our various senses. We should not actually say, if we formulate the facts precisely, that we perceive through the eye. Perception as such is much more rooted in a process that lies further back. What actually takes place through the eye is the activation of the process of perception in our entire ego process – it is the same with the other senses – so that we are distinguished from animals by the fact that our senses are already oriented towards the ego. This can also be demonstrated externally by the fact that the further down the animal scale we go, the more dissimilar, and to some extent more complicated, the senses become in comparison to our human senses.

The next question: How are the biogenetic and phylogenetic processes to be understood?

This will become very clear once we start to properly study embryology and a reasonably conducted embryology will then also lead to a reasonable interpretation of phylogeny. Present-day embryology is actually a very one-sided science; it actually only considers the development of the ovum in its complexity. However, it attaches very little importance to the decadent organs, to that which disappears in the developed embryo, i.e. to what disappears, such as the amniotic sac, the allantois, the chorion and so on. These things regress, while that which then becomes the visible human organs develops forward. The mistake that is made today is that one actually only looks at the evolutionary processes, not the involutionary processes, not that which develops in the opposite sense as a result of the other evolving. If embryology is ever studied in such a way that the organs that develop in the opposite direction, that then fall away, are also considered, then it will be possible to properly observe the transformations of form in phylogeny as well, and then it will become clear that what has been presented to you schematically today can be characterized as the real summary of everything that can be well traced phylogenetically.

Today, the empirical sciences have a wealth of material available, but this rich material is by no means exploited in a rational sense. There is, so to speak, a great deal of chaos in this rich material, and as a result, the facts on which this more schematic presentation is based are still hidden from the observations of comparative anatomy, comparative physiology, and comparative biology in general. The relationships that have been indicated here, for example, the transformation, the metamorphosis of the sense of taste into the sense of sight, is something that can already be read today between the lines of the usual physiological descriptions. This can already be proven. Likewise, the process can be observed phylogenetically in the animal series: If we go back to lower-formed eyes, which, however, already have the organization of the eyes of higher animals and humans, we will find that this metamorphosis of the taste organ into the organ of vision can actually be demonstrated if we just want to see impartially.

Another question: What does the kidney actually perceive and what role does the adrenal gland play in this?

Well, the perception we are dealing with here is, of course, very much in the subconscious. When we speak of “renal perception”, we are actually dealing with an analogous use of the word. After all, the point is that we can go into this process of perception without thinking of it in the same crude way as the external senses. The perception in question can be characterized as follows:

Let us say that a person perceives with their sense of hearing. They perceive in the way that has been described to you here today: they perceive outwardly, and this perception takes place in the conscious mind. A perception that we can describe as the opposite pole of auditory perception, we would have to characterize as being conveyed to the region of rhythmic activity. Certain processes that take place in human metabolism have to be conveyed to the region of rhythmic activity, these processes, the metabolic processes, are in a certain way conveyed to the rhythmic processes by something analogous to perception, just as, for example, the external vibrational processes are conveyed to the brain by the perception of sound.

It is only possible to connect a clear concept with these things if one can imagine that inner vitality as it is in the three-part human being. What is in the metabolic human being, for example, must be conveyed for the rhythmic human being. The rhythmic person can only be in harmony with the metabolic person through mediation, and this mediation is provided by kidney activity. The strength of the secretion, the quality of the secretion, forms the mediation, so to speak. In this way, the kidney creates a reagent for the rhythmic person in relation to the metabolic person.

Of course, these things can only be characterized superficially. They lead into such profound things of the human organization that they are hardly suitable for a brief answer to a question.

The question was also asked about the nature of the secretion. What is meant by secretion here?

Surely, one can only use the word “seclusion” in this case if one means the following: when we speak of the sense of warmth, we are dealing with the perception of something in the external world that is present in the same way in ourselves, so that, as it were - as was also mentioned in today's lecture - only the difference in level is actually perceived between the external warmth and the internal warmth. And it is indeed the case that, basically, the same process is taking place as with the thermometer, only externalized.

With sound perceptions, it is the case that we not only penetrate into something that we also carry within us, it is the case that we not only penetrate into something that is, so to speak, a common medium in which we are inside and the object is inside, but in the case of sound perception, we penetrate into something that is inherent in the object. We can certainly say, for example, that every metal has its own sound. So in a sense we penetrate into the interior of an object in a weaker way than we penetrate into the interior of another person when we listen to how he speaks and how he reveals his inner self to us. We do not penetrate into something that is common to both us and him – only the mediations are common, but not the content. Thus we penetrate out of ourselves by penetrating into the object through the perception of sound.

This can be characterized by the fact that, while ascending from the sense of sight to the sense of warmth, we still live in something that is a common medium for what is perceived and for ourselves, but that something separates when we go from the sense of sight to the sense of hearing. There is also an intensification in this, because we not only perceive a sound, but we perceive an inner mental process.

Thus, in the sense of sound, a further differentiation can be perceived. And one cannot arrive at a schematization, if I may say so, or a classification of the senses, other than by considering this activity of the human being from the inside out, this absorption, this ever-increasing absorption in the sense of sound. Only in this way can one arrive at an objective classification of the senses. Precisely because this has not been done, it has been overlooked that one really must proceed from the sense of hearing to the sense of sound, and from the sense of sound in turn to the sense of concept. For it is an absolute nonsense to speak of perceiving, let us say, what the other person puts into language as his soul content, with the sense of hearing. To separate these two senses, the sense of sound and the sense of tone, leads only to a failure to understand anything about these things in the world.

It is therefore a matter of actually setting a boundary where such a boundary is given by the objects, and of seeing this separation, which is not yet present in the sense of warmth. What is actually perceived by the subject himself first occurs in the sense of sound, and then increasingly in the other senses, in the sense of sound and so on, or even in the sense of self. Everything is thrown into confusion. In this theory, which we can hear today, it is actually the case that the perception of the other self should come about through me approaching the other person and seeing a nose, two eyes, hair and so on, and then say to myself through a half-unconscious conclusion: I also have a nose, two eyes, hair; what he has, I also have, therefore what I see will have an I like I have.

This unconscious conclusion is what we see at work today. It is often called “empathy” or something similar, as chattering psychologists, for example Lipps, have said. We find this unconscious conclusion at work everywhere, and we do not notice how direct the process is that lies in the fact that I actually perceive the ego of the other person.

Some people who study such things, such as Scheler, have indeed become aware of how immediate this perception of the self of the other is and how fundamentally, radically different this perception of the self of the other is from all the processes that lead me to the inner experiences, which I then summarize into the overall state of the inner life.

I believe that what has been mentioned is a radical process that proceeds in many ways and intervenes in the inner life, while the human being's perception of the self is on the same level as other sensory perceptions, except that here we are entering the realm for which humanity is not yet predisposed today. I would like to say, to speak of organs in the way we speak here of the organ of the sense of self, that would hardly be easy to understand today in the context of our psychology or physiology - which, as I mentioned earlier, has even led to the development of an analytical psychology, a so-called “psychoanalysis” - that would hardly be easy to understand today in the context of these complexities.

But at least the pure fact must be presented to the world today: that I-perception is something other than the summarizing, the synthetic summarizing of those processes that then lead to the confirmation of the fact of the inner I of the subject.

The next question: what processes are involved in dowsing?

With regard to the divining rod, it must be carefully noted that, when the corresponding phenomena occur, there is an intensified sensory process for which, however, the whole human being is the mediator. We are not dealing with inner mechanical or magnetic processes or the like, but with the intensity of the person, which is then expressed in what is transmitted through the person to the divining rod.

The facts of the matter are such that one can indeed point out how people who really have no inclination to engage in spiritual science are quite seriously forced to deal with such a problem, such as that of the divining rod, both physically and physiologically.

I still remember – although I do not want to speak here in favor or against something in this direction – how a Viennese researcher blew the whistle on Hansen – after all, most of the nonsense that Hansen did with hypnotism at the time – and how this same researcher is now forced to seriously deal with the phenomena of dowsing. I need only recall that in fact experiments in locating springs and the like with the help of the divining rod have even played a certain role during this war, so that in fact here in this field exact research is beginning. But this research does not want to consider the fact that we are not dealing here with processes that have been separated from the human being, but with processes that are based on the fact that the human being is involved in the entire process, so to speak. This is confirmed, for example, by the fact that the movements of the rod vary greatly depending on whether one or the other person is using it. We are dealing with something in whose reactions the intervention of the human being plays a role.

These questions are such that if we wanted to answer them exhaustively, we would need the whole night to do so, and that cannot be expected of us.

An important question of life will be treated from the point of view of Theosophy, a question that points to the highest heights of life and plays into our daily lives, which must occupy us always and forever.

We must first come to an understanding of Theosophy. It has only recently emerged in our spiritual life and is only now receiving a mission for humanity. And so we first want to discuss its nature and way of thinking. It wants to penetrate the spiritual world in a form that corresponds to today's longing, wants to teach that behind everything perceptible there are spiritual causes, wants to penetrate to these causes through real knowledge, which can be placed alongside the scientific knowledge of the present.

There are many prejudices among those who have only a superficial knowledge of it, and many misunderstandings. First of all, there is the misunderstanding that it could cause someone to doubt the beliefs they hold, as if Theosophy were a new religion. This is a mistake. It will never mislead anyone with regard to their religious creed. It will only lead people who are misled by materialistic science to religion. Thus, it will become clear to those who delve deeper that Theosophy makes one more deeply religious. Another misunderstanding is that Theosophy wants to transplant a Buddhist, Indian worldview into Europe. This is a mistake, something like that cannot be transplanted. Theosophy has the task of deepening European spiritual life, and to do that it must take into account the roots from which it has developed over the centuries.

And now the causes, the sources: where does Theosophy draw from what we want to discuss today? It is based on an honest recognition of what we call “development”. However, it does not say: we only recognize the external and its development – like materialistic science – but we admit that the human being is vividly involved in development. This development progresses, the human being will always develop further, indeed, the human being can not only observe this development, he can also promote it because he is a self-aware being. Just as a seed develops and a plant grows out of it, so too is a soul not only what it appears to be on the outside – you also cannot tell from a seed what forces lie dormant in it, what kind of plant can develop from it – so too does the human soul contain forces that can be developed, and Theosophy shows by the living example that something completely different can become out of the souls.

Today we ask about the hidden sources of life and death, and the answer of materialistic science is: We cannot know anything about it. But the theosophist says: Certainly, as man is now, his knowledge has these limits, and he cannot know about them, but these limits can be expanded through development, and then he can know about them.

If this limit is to be exceeded by development, then new organs must first develop. Theosophy now shows the way in which new forces and new organs can come to life in us; it shows the way in which the soul can become an instrument for higher development. Just as the microscope and telescope have assisted the sense organs in increasing our knowledge of the external world and have become the instruments for this kind of scientific knowledge, so the soul can also become an instrument of spiritual science. A scientist considers this to be fantasy and denies that something like this is possible. Fichte, the great philosopher, once said: Imagine a gathering of many blind people, among whom are a few sighted people who talk to the blind about color and light. Will the blind be able to understand and believe these words? But if one were given the gift of sight, light and color would shine for him where there was darkness before. Our perception of the world around us depends on the organs we possess. New organs can open up new worlds, just as the microscope and the telescope have shown people new worlds.

And so spiritual science speaks of the spiritual world. The fact that man develops the organs contained in him in a germinal form and becomes familiar with higher worlds, the fact that this is possible, is how one can judge the whole of spiritual science. Because only experience counts. The experience in spiritual worlds is there; spiritual research is being done and the results of this research become the content of theosophy.

Of course, only those who have experienced enlightenment can research, just as only those who have done the necessary studies can do microscopic research. But the spiritual researcher's research is comprehensible to people when it is communicated in the usual way. And these communications are valuable to [them], even if not every soul immediately reaches a higher level of development. Every person can listen to these messages and ask themselves whether life provides evidence for what the researcher says, whether it proves to be true in life.

So let us talk about life and death and hear what the researcher says and what life says. The researcher says: To understand this great mystery, we must first understand the nature of man. We are dealing with a four-part entity. The first link is the physical body. Theosophy is completely on scientific ground when considering this. The physical body is one with nature. But only after death does it appear to us on its own, and then it follows its physical laws and forces and dissolves. Now, theosophy says: something else must be sought in order to understand the whole person; this cannot be the whole person. This other thing, which prevents the physical body from disintegrating during our lifetime, is a force, a second body that we call the life body or etheric body. This life body permeates the physical body. The researcher now sees this life body; it is therefore an experience. Man has this life body in common with all of nature, with plants and animals.

Let us imagine a human being. A part of space is filled with the physical body, and within that is the life body. But something else lives in this filled space that is very close to the human being. There lives something that he knows as lust and suffering, as joy and pain and passion. That lives there, and he cannot grasp it, cannot see it, but it is there, and the seer sees it as the astral body. Man has this in common with the animal world.

Now the fourth part, which makes man the crown of creation: every thing has a name given to it from outside. We call these names of things, of persons; these names sound to our ears from the outside. Now there is a name that cannot be used in this way, that only a mouth can pronounce, the mouth of the one person whose essence is to be described: we only say “I” about ourselves - each one for himself. We say “I” about no one else. And this little word describes the very core that we have in common with no other being on earth. No animal has an ego. This ego, which can only be heard in every single soul, has been called the “divine substance” by all deep worldviews. This fourth part of the human being is therefore its divine core. But just as a drop of water is not a sea, such a divine core is not a god.

But in this fourth link there is something that is of the same substance as that which the world lives and weaves through, this fourth link, through which man stands out above everything - every sensible poet has spoken wonderfully about this fourth link, for example Jean Paul, when he recognized as a child: “I am a I.” - If we know this, we can understand much of the riddles of life.

Furthermore, the juxtaposition of waking and sleeping on the one hand and life and death on the other is significant and profound. What does waking and sleeping mean? The waking person stands before us in such a way that his four limbs are interwoven and work together. When a person falls asleep, the outer world, the soul world, sinks into an indeterminate darkness. The I and the astral body detach themselves from the lower limbs and live in a spiritual world during sleep.

Why does man know nothing of this life in the spiritual world? Because he has no organs in his astral body and all his perceptions can only be made through his physical organs. And these cannot be applied in the spiritual world. To acquire such organs of the astral body, intimate soul processes are needed. My writing 'How to Know Higher Worlds' talks about this. But once the astral body has formed organs, it also possesses them during sleep. The eye was created by the light; in the same way, the soul can also create organs for itself through exercises, and we call a person with such higher organs a seer.

During the night, the human being draws the strength to be able to live at all. While awake, the astral body, which is completely immersed in the physical and etheric, gives its own powers to these. Now it has to replenish what it has used up, and it can only do so in the spiritual and astral worlds. The etheric body, which is the creator of the physical body, also needs a replacement for its powers. But it cannot leave the physical body as long as the physical body lives in the physical world. Now there is a law that was formulated many years ago by an Italian, Francesco Redi: “Living things come only from living things.” This seems obvious to us. At that time, however, it was not obvious, because it was believed that earthworms came from mud. Francesco Redi was considered a scientific heretic. Today, Theosophy says: spiritual things only come from spiritual things. Now the same thing happens as when Francesco Redi contradicted the common belief based on his more precise observation. Today's scientists think we are fools and fantasists. But theosophical belief that the soul-spiritual comes only from soul-spiritual will one day be as self-evident as Francesco Redi's view has become today. But for us, strength, confidence and consolation may arise from it. More precise observation proved the superstition, and only inaccurate observation can say that man comes only from his parents. No, the soul-spiritual comes only from soul-spiritual. And with that, the realization of re-embodiment is connected. That which lives in us as soul-spiritual is the repetition of soul-spiritual that was there before, and at the same time is the cause of what is to come. The two higher members thus work their way into the human being, and that gives abilities. But this happens in a very special way because it is of soul and spiritual origin.

While the two higher members leave the etheric body and physical body when falling asleep, at death the separation is extended to the etheric body as well, and only the physical body remains behind. Now accept something with the same faith that you have in scientific researchers. When the physical body is released at death, the memory tableau of the human soul comes to the fore, because the etheric body is the carrier of memory, and this power now works intensely without influencing the coarse physical substance; a similar thing can happen when someone is about to drown or in the event of a nervous shock.

This memory tableau of the whole life lasts only a short time, then the etheric body leaves the astral body, and only a summary of the acquired abilities of the past life joins the astral body and remains for eternity. This is followed by the time of purification, during which the soul relives the life again and gets to know every suffering it has caused to other people as an obstacle to development and feels it as its own suffering, and thereby receives the impulse to make amends. After that, the ego, now connected to the life fruits of the ether body and the impulses for reparation of the astral body, enters devachan, the kingdom of heaven, and dwells there for a long time until the will to enter reality becomes so powerful that a new embodiment occurs. [Gap in the text basis]

The world is interwoven with spirit – only from spirit can we create spirit. Human wisdom can be found out there in nature. Just as wasps make paper, swallows build walls, and bees build – we absorb spirit from the outside, we are fertilized by this spirit, we are always absorbing. Just as the whole life of a plant is concentrated in its blossoms and comes to fruition in its fruit, and just as so many plants die while producing seeds, developing germs for new plants, the same happens throughout life in humans. The soul of the human being unites with the spirit of the world, what has been brought from the past is like a scaffolding. The eternal self begins to connect with the outside world and becomes new. Gradually the scaffolding will lose its significance, the soul-spiritual contracts more and more and now ascends to a higher level. But the new needs the new, the old must fall away. The body, which is the result of the earlier, must fall. Nature in its spirituality has invented death in order to have much life. A necessity for development is the death of man – animal and plant death are something else. And so death becomes something that guarantees us the opportunity for development.

Under this condition, much that was previously dark is understood, including the Old and New Testaments, these supreme books of humanity. — Eating from the tree of life is forbidden to man, because otherwise he would have to stop in his development.

Death is only a transformation of the human form; external science cannot comprehend death because it eludes the external organs as it destroys them. But working on the astral body can create psychic organs, and the experiences of the seer are then the same as those of death:

Tell it to no one, only to the wise,
Because the masses immediately mock,
I will praise the living,
That longs for death by flames.

And so long as you do not have that,
This dying and becoming!
If you are only a gloomy guest
On the dark earth.

Theosophical knowledge, however, transforms human hearts; love revives in them, that love that is not only preached but is lived. Generalized expressions are nothing. We must penetrate step by step, seeking the spirit and understanding what it reveals. Man ascends ever higher—his life is eternal and is subject to the law of karma. This is not exactly translated by the law of cause and effect, when all experience is conditioned by previous ones.

You might ask: if this conditionality exists, why do you help one another? — Because we foresee the effect for the future, that is why human help is so consoling, and because we know that it has an eternal effect, that is why we must provide it wherever we can. We will be able to help a small number of people if we are an ordinary person. But a higher being will be able to help many people, and His love, which was revealed at Calvary, shows us the way we should go to become helpers to the many.

But the secret of death becomes for us the key of life, because the perishable must fall, so that the eternal can grow and develop to ever greater heights.

Nowhere in life is there a greater need for a spiritual understanding of existence than in the face of a growing child, for anyone who has an open mind. For even if it is of infinite importance for all life and being to see through the world of the senses to the spiritual foundations of existence, it appears to be something quite special to help the still hidden spirit to its full free existence in relation to the growing child, regardless of the relationship we have with him. The child stands before us, enveloped in the material existence of his future. We know that this future is to be brought out of the material, we know that out of the material the spirit is to unfold, we are faced with the task of nurturing and caring for the spirit within the outer appearance of the senses. And if material knowledge can lead us into error with regard to our world view, we know that we will actually stray from our path when it comes to our duty to save humanity if we have no sense of the hidden spirit of the growing child. Spiritual science enables us to free the spirit from material shells.

Earlier I was allowed to speak about education, today we should be more concerned with what the child is. We should be concerned with what the child's relationship is to his future, to a full, human existence. For from such knowledge we will learn how to properly support the growing child.

It is an important question: how should we relate to the child in the past if we want to find the right path for future development?

In today's world, which is steeped in material ideas, heredity and descent play a major role. If we have an intuitive sense of how the child's qualities are passed on, first to the parents and then to the ancestors, we understand how scientific thinking about heredity has blossomed magnificently. But spiritual science will show that we cannot get by with this in relation to the important relationship between man, woman and child. Those who have the task of educating the child see how the talents and abilities, what we summarize as individual, prove to be a new mystery. Those who take their task seriously feel like a new puzzle solver in the face of each individual child's individuality.

Heredity and individuality are part of our subject. Heredity is something that has grown out of contemporary scientific ideas. These are based much less on comprehensive observation of human life than on the nature of plants and animals. Not a single word of criticism is to be said against the positive achievements of scientific research in this field. Much remains to be done in this area. But research is insufficient with regard to the human being. If one observes the individual characteristics of the human being, and first of all the purely physical ones, inherited like those of animals, one falls into abstractions. One arrives at poor concepts for the human being, whereas one arrives at extremely fruitful concepts for the animalistic. We must bear in mind the tremendous difference between humans and animals, that the concepts gained in the lower realms are not sufficient for human life. In the case of humans, we have four elements of their being and so on. The human soul and what flows from the I is independent of the two elements of physical and etheric body. If we consider that in the plant kingdom we are only dealing with the physical and etheric bodies, and in the animal kingdom with these and the astral body, that the astral body is completely devoted to the physical body, while in humans the astral body is influenced by the ego, then we will understand that we cannot transfer the concepts from the other kingdoms to humans.

There is a very simple train of thought to make this clear. The great difference between humans and animals, if we disregard everything occult, appears to us through purely logical consideration. In the case of animals, our interest is equally divided between grandfather, father, son and grandson, and what mainly interests us is the generic. Our interest in the individuality is far below our interest in the species. The species aspect far outweighs the individual. That is why animals have no biography. Only humans have a biography because, in the case of humans, the sentence applies that, in certain respects, they are their own species. Just as we are strongly interested in the species in the case of animals, we must be just as interested in the individual in the case of humans. Some dog owners will say that humans differ from animals only in degrees, and that anyone who observes an animal could also write a biography of their dog. Of course, there are transfers from one to the other. You can also write the biography of a steel spring. But in the true sense, only humans have one, and even the most insignificant ones.

Something else is connected with the fact of the biography. We see how the animal is born and has reached perfection shortly after birth, how it performs certain actions because these actions are related to heredity. Because humans are individuals, we see that we are justified in bringing out the very individuality in each person through education, which corresponds to the development of the animal, which passes through the species.

This leads us to the spiritual-scientific fact that the animal has only three bodies and the human being has the fourth in addition. When we see that movements and impulses, joy and pain, emanate from the animal body, we say that the astral body is connected to the lower bodies and receives their peculiarities through inheritance. This is shown by the similarity of the physiognomy and the individual limbs. The etheric body is the shaper of the images of the physical body. Both receive their structure through their descent.

Because the human being is an individuality, and thus has an underlying ego, the impulses of the ego express themselves in the astral body. When the astral body has inner impulses, there are things in the human being that cannot be understood if one assumes mere inheritance. Objections can easily be raised from the point of view of observation (the Bach and Bernoulli families).

Such things appear as if human inheritance existed, but in a more spiritualized, higher form than in plants and animals. One goes further and shows that in such a case the significant genius can be traced backwards. The genius is a summation of the qualities of his ancestors. — A strange conclusion, because this last genius is not inherited. From one logic, one should not be particularly surprised that a descendant, even if he is a genius, shows certain characteristics of his ancestors; but it is actually only a matter of having a correct understanding of this inheritance. With a plant, one will not be particularly surprised if it turns out differently in different soils.

But no one doubts that it was not the soil that made the plant, but the seed that was planted in the soil. So there is no need to be surprised when you come back wet from the water. To want to prove inheritance by the fact that genius appears at the end of a generation is proof that it does not continue to be inherited. People do not notice the illogicality.

We only see what we want to see. For the educator who stands before the developing child, there is no need for proof that something very individual is released from within, in addition to the inherited traits. When we see this individuality being released, we have to ask ourselves: where does this individuality come from? Materialism has a superstitious chapter on this in its findings. Here, materialism goes against all its assumptions. It would not have been a miracle if 300 years ago it had been said that the individual comes out of nothing, out of the sum of the ancestral line. 300 years ago, people believed that fish could form out of mud. Then an Italian naturalist said: “The living cannot arise from the seemingly dead.” Today, all of natural science shares Haeckel's belief that ‘the living can only arise from the living.’ But when Redi expressed this, it was considered heresy, and he only narrowly escaped the fate of Giordano Bruno.

Today it is no longer fashionable to burn such heretics; they are seen as backward people. Materialism does not burn, it uses other inquisitorial means. For spiritual science, the following applies: spiritual can only arise from spiritual. No combination of physical causes can explain the individual without appealing to a miracle. The materialist is superstitious when it comes to the spiritual. Spiritual science is firmly grounded in the fact that spiritual arises from spiritual. We trace individuality back to spiritual.

Here we are confronted with the comprehensive law that spiritual science presents us with. What appears to us as a species in the lower ranks appears to us in relation to humans as repeated lives on earth. What a person acquires in this life is the basis for their development in the following lives. Thus we see true individuality permeating many earthly lives as a spiritual unity. If we put the whole human individual together, we find that the physical and etheric bodies lie in the line of inheritance, but that the I and the astral body can be traced back to earlier earth lives and the spiritual. If we bring this before our spiritual eyes, it can give us a satisfactory explanation for the fact that the human being standing before us as a child appears to us as a combination of inheritance and embodiments.

How do we explain such phenomena of inheritance? We have to admit that the child was there long before the physical characteristics that can be inherited could be thought of. Just as there is attraction and repulsion in the physical life, there is this force between the sheaths given by man and woman.

A child is not drawn to every pair of parents, but to where it fits. Much finer characteristics than the face are inherited, but these are precisely what attract the individual. Man has not only the outer but also the inner physiognomy. The child must be driven by the bond of attraction to that embodiment which the outer instruments give to his talents. The incarnating human individuality chooses its parents. The organ of mathematical thinking is not the brain, but the three semicircular canals in the ear, which are perpendicular to each other in the three directions of space and which, when injured, impair the sense of orientation. Painting is based on the very specific structure of the eye.

There is no contradiction between heredity and re-embodiment. Men and women only inherit the physical. The child is born into a pair of parents, as it is born out of them. We see the plant absorbing the characteristic features of the soil. The child springs forth from the soil of its descent and displays everything that is in the father and mother. We also see the individual germinal, which is only sunk into this soil as a true individuality, which is a closed entity, going through various incarnations. We remember Schopenhauer: by man and woman seeking each other, the offspring are already at work.

He often had penetrating flashes of inspiration that are extremely apt, but which are only fully understood when illuminated by spiritual science. The will of the developing life already lies in the individuality of love between man and woman, and in the looks with which the lovers meet, lies the child striving into existence. But spiritual science only illuminates it in the right way. What do we see in the individuality, in the I and the astral body? What is it that plays a part in the love between man and woman, that constitutes the feeling of pleasure in each individual case? The reflex, the mirror image of the individuality that wants to enter into life. The descending individuality announces itself in feeling. The feeling of love is given to the child's individuality by father and mother.

Such things cannot be proved, but they are true for those who feel and see through to the truth. There is no proof for the law of reincarnation, it must be an experience of the inner life. In the feelings between man and woman we see the descending individuality flooding in. The child foreshadows the man and the woman. Love and desire are only emanations of the astral. The physical and etheric bodies of man and woman compose the child. The child stimulates the astral body between man and woman, and the result is the play of love sensations.

Now some may say: How can you come to terms with the actual mother and father feeling? They arise again in their child. The love that exists between parents and children appears in a higher splendor. From the child's side it played before conception. The child was drawn to its still spiritualized love, which played before the first atom of the physical came into being. The child loves the parents it seeks out, and its love casts a shadow into the act of love. Love appears to us even more refined, spiritualized.

When we look at things this way, the inheritance system becomes much more understandable. If there is feminine in the man and masculine in the woman, then we will understand that the qualities of the daughters come from the father and those of the sons from the mother. People who have a particularly strong soul often get it from their mother. We have four characteristics, from which a great combination of characteristics arises. We will not say such strange things: we need not be surprised that women now have these or those characteristics. These people always forget that women also had a father. It puts a spiritual and physical aspect in a completely different light. There must be an important consequence when we take this awareness into life. We will not only look at physical inheritance, but at individuality, which must be sacred to us, something we must redeem from its shells. Such an outlook will transform itself into a completely different and higher respect and appreciation of the enigmatic individuality, which is to be unravelled. We will not only learn to respect the freedom of adults, but also of children's individuality. Spiritual science leads us to feelings, sensations and practical creativity in the face of life's tasks. Spiritual science sees the creative spirit behind the physical, sees matter as the effect of past spirituality.

Spiritual science sees the spirit, which is still veiled, shaping itself into the future as its helper. Our knowledge leads us into the spiritual creation of the past. This leads us to an appreciation of the evolving entities. Only by respecting the freedom of the developing human being can we ensure human progress into the future. With many a sentence, Goethe captured the great circumstances that are repeated in everyday life. We look back into the past and see the creative spirit. The great yesterday of the world becomes apparent to us through knowledge, and in this way we attain respect and appreciation for the spirit that first wants to become.

If yesterday is clear and open to you,
you will be strong in today,
so you can hope for tomorrow,
which will be no less happy.

Dear attendees!

You have requested that I speak about the Gospel of John in its context with the other three Gospels in this series. That is to say: you have come to the conclusion that the way of thinking of the theosophical worldview encompasses much that can contribute to our understanding of Christianity. These lectures will show that this is the case and that the Gospels, especially the Gospel of John, have a special mission to people in our time. They will show in particular how Christianity has gradually developed from distant periods of time, how it has a long future ahead of it, and how Theosophy, through the insights it is called to reveal, opens up another area for research on the Gospels.

Indeed, when we consider the attitude of the leaders of the modern spiritual movement towards the Gospels, we cannot characterize it as anything other than increasingly hostile. This could also be explained if no other sources than those known so far had appeared.

What then do the Gospels have to offer to the person who approaches them? They are supposed to give him an illumination, an explanation of the great event that has taken place in the development of mankind: the Christ-event. But if the modern man approaches the Gospels for this purpose, he will not find a satisfactory account of this event. Instead of one account, he finds four, and finds differences and contradictions in the gospels. For example, Matthew and Luke tell [the childhood story of Jesus in different ways].

And so people say: that doesn't match, that can't be right; and so our present-day criticism tries to show that [a gap in the transcript].

It is well known how, under the influence of the view just stated, the authority of the Gospels is gradually waning, and how people increasingly believe that they can extract some kind of common basis from the four Gospels, and how, in certain radical circles, they are even inclined to reject the whole thing. The gospel that speaks most deeply to our hearts has fared particularly badly. It is said that in the first three gospels, a historical core can be found. But the Gospel of John is so different from the others that it must be believed to have been written much later and is without significance. In other circles, the Synoptics are attributed a certain historical significance, but it is thought that the Gospel of John is a kind of hymn through which the first Christians wanted to express their faith in Christ.

On the surface, we could pose a historical question: Did the people of the first centuries of Christianity have the Gospels in their hands, did they really study them? The answer is: the Gospels were not read or studied as widely as they have been in the last few centuries, not even in the Middle Ages. It was only with the invention of printing that it became possible for everyone to read the words of the Gospel.

If we go back to earlier centuries, we find that only a few people had access to the Gospels, and that these few were the most learned and knowledgeable people: the leaders and teachers. But these, oddly enough, took no offense at the contradictions that arose between the individual Gospels. And if we want to describe the prevailing sentiment that these differences caused, it was a deep gratitude that there were not just one document, but four. It was only when the gospel became more popular that the contradictions were found; only then did people understand how to take offense at them.

Could it be that in the first centuries after Christ, these learned and highly developed connoisseurs of Christianity had so little insight, reason and understanding that they would be grateful for the contradictions? No, it cannot be so. There must be another explanation for this significant fact.

If we try to look into the souls of the first confessors of Christianity, we must find that they felt that the Christ mystery was something that man cannot readily understand, and so they told each other that it was good that four narrators described what they understood of the same. If, for example, we photograph this lectern from this side, someone can also photograph it from the opposite side; you have two photographs of it. In the same way, you can photograph the lectern from the other two sides. So you have four pictures of the lectern. Those who put together a complete picture from these four pictures can say that they know what the lectern looks like.

In this way, four personalities have described the great Christ event to us, and one must take these four pictures together. In this way, one can gradually elevate oneself to a complete understanding of the event.

Now the question arises: How can there be four different records? What does each gospel want to say about the great Christ event? Each gospel starts from the premise that this event cannot be grasped with external knowledge, and that it is necessary to look at it from the point of view of an initiate, of one who has been initiated. Each gospel is written from the point of view of the seer.

Now in pre-Christian times there were four types of initiation, four types of seership. And only by bearing in mind that there were four types of initiation can one understand that each Gospel was written on the basis of a particular initiation.

What then is an initiate? He is a man whose powers of knowledge are not limited to the outer world, and who has developed his spiritual organs to such an extent that he can see into the spiritual worlds.

Now, we can only develop in a person what is present in him in the form of abilities. We distinguish three basic powers in man: the power of thinking, the power of feeling, and the power of willing. In ordinary human life, these three powers are developed only to a certain degree. In an initiate, they were greatly expanded through the so-called mysteries. However, since it was found that in one and the same person all three powers could only be developed equally to a certain degree, those to be initiated were divided into three classes, depending on their abilities, in which only one of the three powers was particularly developed. Thus it was said in the Egyptian, Persian and Greek mysteries: We train certain people in such a way that the power of thinking becomes particularly strong / gap in the transcript] to the point of seership [gap in the transcript] in other people, the power of will [gap in the transcript].

Thus in ancient times there were three groups of initiates:

the initiates of thinking – the “sages”,
the initiates of feeling – the “therapists” or “healers”,
the initiates of will – the “magicians”.

These initiations were one-sided, but precisely because of that, an initiate could develop the highest powers in his field by renouncing the other powers. The wise man had a broad view of the world, he could explore the spiritual world and knew its laws; the therapist healed people; not through external means, but with the help of his spiritual and psychic powers; and the magician ruled the physical world and knew its laws.

To connect these three categories of initiates, a fourth category was formed. These were those in whom the personality was not so highly developed, but in whom all three powers worked together in harmony: the harmonious people. When something important had to be decided, one always listened to them.

There is a deep secret here. What was the opinion of those who had come less far in terms of the individual powers? In the ancient mystery schools it was known that everything can be found in nature. The wasps have long since invented paper, because their nest is real paper. So the wasp contains the wisdom that man later achieved. There is also wisdom in man, and that is how he becomes master over the forces of nature. But there is more of the divine in the less initiated than in the more initiated. The initiated “man” was the fourth class of initiates.

These four categories of initiates are found in the four Gospels. Each initiate can now explore the great fact from a certain point of view: the sage - John - from one side of the Christ event; the magician - Mark - from another side; and the healer - Luke - from yet another side. The harmonious man Matthew has an overview of the whole. Wisdom extends far beyond, high above everything that man can achieve. That is why John's symbol is the eagle, flying high above earthly events. And the healer, what powers does this person want to develop? Not external means, but [he worked] as a psychic healer [developing] the powers of self-sacrificing love. A person becomes a healer to the extent that he sheds selfishness and is able to sacrifice himself for others: the ability to sacrifice is the essence of the healer in the psychic realm. When a person is developed to the point of giving everything for another, he is a healer. Thus the Evangelist Luke. Hence the tradition that the Gospel of Luke was written by a physician. Hence the symbol of Luke: the sacrificial bull, that is, the personality of the self-sacrificing human being. Finally, the magician strives to develop the powers of will, according to the Evangelist Mark; his symbol is the lion. Therefore, the lion is added to the writer of the Gospel of Mark. Where these three powers work together in harmony, there we have the human being. The human being is added to the Gospel of Matthew as a symbol.

That is why the followers of Christianity were so grateful that there were four gospels.

What is the Christ event? It is the confluence of all previous philosophies and religious movements of humankind. In Palestine, all earlier movements of humankind came together; and depending on the type of initiation of one or the other evangelist, they found expression in the Gospels.

What were the main currents of spiritual life in the pre-Christian era? First of all, there was a current that had reached a powerful development and conclusion shortly before Christ: the ancient wisdom of the holy rishis in India. They taught a wisdom that existed before our physical world was present: the primal tradition of human tradition, the ancient memory of a wisdom from which the world flowed. According to this “ancient wisdom,” the rishis said to themselves: What lives in me is only a symbol of the ancient wisdom that has created these images out of itself; everything we see is only an image of ancient wisdom, of primeval spirituality, a looking back at the divine world; the outer world is only an illusion, maya; human beings are called upon to descend into the physical world.

From this cultural movement, one could learn to sacrifice the sensual and give everything to gain wisdom. In the person of Gautama Buddha, six centuries before Christ, this spiritual movement found its culmination and conclusion. What Buddha could give to humanity was to be incorporated into the Palestine event, in order to flow on from there. This is described in the Gospel of the Healer, the Gospel of Luke.

In the ancient – not historical – Persian culture, we find a completely opposite cultural current, represented by Zarathustra or Zoroaster. This is best understood in the following way: the Indian said, “Illusion is the outer world.” Zarathustra pointed out to people that this world is not worthless. “This world, he said, is the outer expression of a spirit. Look up at the sun, for example. The warmth that flows from the sun is its physical reality. The sun is the benefactress of the whole earth. But as the human being stands before us and behind him stands the spirit, the aura, so behind the body of the sun stands the solar aura, the great aura, the great spirit, Ahura-Mazdao, Ormuzd. Behind everything physical is the spirit of the sun. The physical is therefore not an illusion, not Maya, but an expression of the divine. The task of man is nothing more than to unravel the spiritual from this physical.>

“I will speak,” said Zarathustra, “of that which is supreme in the world, and no longer shall the evil forces have power to proclaim untruth. I will speak of him who is everywhere in the world, of Ahura-Mazdao will I speak. He who does not listen to my words will experience evil when the cycle of earth development] is fulfilled.

This school of thought, which one should work with joy on the physical plane, has been incorporated into Christianity and continues to flow there. It contains a whole cosmology and is described by Mark.

The third current that has flowed into Christianity is the one that was prepared by the ancient Hebrew people. What, then, is the ancient Hebrew people's share of the whole culture? What did these people have to give?

Just as individuals grow, so do nations through a gradual and continuous development. The four elements of the human being have come into being in a very complicated way. When the child leaves the mother's womb, only its physical birth takes place. But not all of its bodies are ready. Up to the age of seven, it is, so to speak, enclosed in its etheric womb. At the change of teeth, that is, in the seventh year, its etheric birth takes place. At fourteen, when the etheric body is fully formed, the astral birth takes place, and only after the astral body has reached full maturity at twenty-one does the fourth body, the ego, emerge. - In the same way, the evolution of individual peoples takes place.

Thus we distinguish three great periods among the Hebrews: the first from Abraham to David; the second from David to the Babylonian captivity; and the third from the latter period to the time of Jesus, when the ego emerged, as it does at the age of twenty-one in an individual human being. Jesus inherited his physical body from this people, which is described in detail in the Gospel of Matthew.

Those who have a complete knowledge and understanding of Christianity also know the pre-Christian spiritual currents that Christianity has absorbed and the results of which it contains. Buddha did not cease to be effective when he died in ancient India six hundred years before our era, and so Zarathustra was also willing to let his share of development flow into Christianity.

Each gospel corresponds to a side of the human being. Thus Matthew mainly describes the physical side of the Christ event, Mark the etheric, Luke the astral, and John the side that falls under the ego.

John's Gospel is a great study of the spiritual human being; arising from the deepest initiation, this gospel is like a sun above the other gospels, the great message of the spiritual human being to humanity. Luke's Gospel is a mighty portrayal of the life of man in the world of the senses - in the world of feeling - in sacrificial service; Mark's Gospel is a tremendous cosmology; and Matthew's Gospel is a philosophy of history.

Thus the four gospels flow together, and so Buddha and Zarathustra and ancient Hebraism and ancient Egypt come to reappear in Christianity. And so it is precisely from Theosophy that we will glean what external research has lost: the truth of the gospels. Theosophy is here to reconquer the Gospels and show us that Christianity is not at the end, but at the beginning of its journey. Theosophy will be an instrument to bring the hidden treasures of Christianity back into the light.

Notes from the lecture

People who live in abstract concepts and have no particular inclination to engage with spiritual life in its reality very often talk about there being a transitional period here or there when discussing the process of human development. The spiritual researcher cannot be so generous with the words “we live in a transitional period”. Those who really observe spiritual life must know that such times of transition come, and those where the course of development proceeds more evenly. In this sense, we can indeed say that we live in a spiritual transition period. Some of what takes place in it will be the subject of our consideration today.

Every development, whether it be the evolution of the individual between birth and death or the evolution of the planets, always has currents within it; it does not proceed in a straight line. Even in the life of the individual we must distinguish between two currents. In the education of the child you can already find one of these currents. This is described in the booklet 'The Education of the Child from the Point of View of Spiritual Science' and also in the second part of 'Occult Science, an Outline of the Principles of the Science of the Spirit', which has just been published. Actually, the human being experiences several births. First, the physical birth. Only what we call the physical body is born. Until then, it was enveloped in the physical mother's body. This first state lasts until the age of seven. Until then, he is surrounded by the etheric sheath. Now, until about sexual maturity, the human being also frees himself from this sheath, and then the astral body is born. At the age of twenty-one, the I is born.

If we observe this development, we can say that it takes place in every human being according to certain laws. Certain rules can be followed, which are given in that little book, “The Education of the Child from the Point of View of Spiritual Science”, and it is beneficial if they are followed. But now we come to what is individual for each person: this is an inner current that runs parallel to the first current. The second current proceeds within the first. This second current includes everything from previous lives, from one's own experiences. The difference between the outer and inner currents of development can be recognized in every person, especially in people with significant character traits.

Petöfi is a Hungarian poet. His fellow countrymen saw something very special in him. His Hungarian identity is expressed in his lyrical poems. You get to know Magyar will, feeling and thinking from them. If you look into this in more detail, you learn that his name was not Petöfi at all, but that his father was Serbian and his mother Croatian. There was nothing Magyar in him. What was not Hungarian built up in him: that was the external development. Then there is the inner development, which reflects what is there from previous lives: Hungarian in essence.

Another example is the German painter Asmus Carstens. He had an overwhelming urge to paint. If you have the opportunity to see the things he created, you will say: These are the things of someone who can't paint at all. But his individuality is in his pictures. He wanted to learn painting from a famous painter, but when the painter went out, he was supposed to operate the coach box. He didn't want that and left. He then went to a wine merchant to learn his trade and had to wash barrels. He then came to Copenhagen. There he was not accepted at the academy because he was too old. He never learned how to paint, had no sense of color, but what he did create has become something significant in art. This is an example of such cases, where there is such a special urge from previous lives, but the outer development is not favorable for it.

We must apply such results of spiritual research in life if we want to approach life correctly, otherwise life could prove that we would have missed something. For example: some individuality enters life. It is predestined to accomplish something. But we fail to educate their bodies properly. In the seventeenth or eighteenth year, when crises occur, it becomes apparent that the coverings are not properly formed: the astral body is not formed with the instincts and desires; the etheric body is not formed with the corresponding skills and habits. Then the outer and inner development do not coincide. In milder cases, people lose their inner balance; but a complete disruption of the soul life can also occur. If something like this happens in the crisis years, it is due to nothing more than the non-harmonization of the various currents.

We must supply the human ego with concepts and understanding for life: habits for the etheric body, concepts for the astral body. What comes over from the previous life must develop freely.

In the great evolution of humanity, we can see how the two currents of development merge. The souls that are now embodied here were previously embodied in the other epochs: in the Greco-Latin, Egyptian, Persian, Indian. The world was different when your souls looked up at the venerable pyramids. If the earth were always the same, then the incarnations would serve no purpose. They make sense because something different occurs each time.

Now it could be that one or two or three lives would not have been properly utilized, for example in the Egyptian-Babylonian period. Then something would have been missed that could never be recovered. Inner development runs like a thread through the outer life, through what we can learn from the outer life. Thus a disharmony can also occur between the outer and inner currents of development. Now one could say: What you are telling us is somewhat distressing; it could be that we have neglected something that we can never make up for. First spiritual science brings us enlightenment, and now we can no longer make up for it. But it is not like that. Until now, people were not at all able to choose and neglect freely and independently. Only now does the time begin when souls can miss something. That is why spiritual science is only coming now, so that people can hear what they can miss, to see how people burden themselves with guilt when they miss something. That is why spiritual science is being proclaimed now, because humanity needs it now.

The human soul with its abilities was not always as it is today. In the past, people had an old, dim clairvoyance. The waking states were not as developed in ancient times as they are today. Objects were surrounded by an ether aura. Between waking and sleeping, people lived in the spiritual worlds and were there among spiritual-divine beings. In those days, people knew that spiritual worlds existed not only from hearsay but from experience. The further back we go, the more we see man in this spiritual world. The gates of this spiritual world then gradually closed on him. One can indicate such points in time quite accurately. A saying goes that nature does not make leaps. This saying is very inaccurate and inappropriate. Where a green leaf becomes a flower, there is a leap, and so it is.

Just as we can indicate the exact point of transition from green leaf to flower, so we can indicate the time when clairvoyance ceased. Of course it happened gradually, but on average it stopped at a certain time. This point in time can be indicated as 3101 BC. At that time people discarded their old clairvoyance. Before that time there was still a dim clairvoyance present, like a memory of an even older clairvoyance. In that early age people really saw clearly into the spiritual world. And there was an even earlier time when people regarded the physical as something highly insignificant. That was the golden age. This was followed by the silver age, in which people also saw into the spiritual worlds. Then came the iron age, in which people had a memory of the old clairvoyance, and then - starting in 3101 - the next age, our age, in which the gates of the spiritual world closed.

Krita Yuga is the first, the golden age; the second, 'Treta Yuga, the silver; the third, Dvapara Yuga, the bronze; the fourth, Kali Yuga, also called the dark age, beginning in the year 3101 BC. Within the dark age, we must find that which could not be anywhere else: 3000 years after the beginning of this age, we find the event of Golgotha.

Humanity could no longer ascend to the gods. Therefore, a god had to descend. This is what happened with the Christ event. The human ego could only live out itself in the Kali Yuga. Therefore, the event of Golgotha had to take place here. The destinies that can be told with earthly words were those of Christ Jesus. When initiates ascended to the spiritual world in the past, it had to be expressed in spiritual words. That is why it is not understood today. Because this God led an earthly life, it was possible to speak of Him in earthly words. That was also a time of transition. This cannot be expressed more clearly than in the words: Change your soul's disposition, for the Kingdom of Heaven has drawn near to you. The understanding, the connection with the Kingdom of Heaven, can only be found within oneself. You can no longer find it beyond your earthly self, but heaven has come right up to your self. “Blessed are they who are poor in spirit” also points to this. In the past, the spirit was given to them. Now people have become poor. They can now only find the spirit in their own self.

It is a childish notion to say that Christ or John the Baptist proclaimed a kingdom that was to return after a thousand years. It should only be hinted that we should enter the kingdom through our own self. Such a special time is here again today. It could be that this time would be slept through.

The Latin historian Tacitus does not speak of the Christians as of something significant, but rather as of a new sect. It was said in Rome that in a remote street there was a new sect whose leader was a certain Jesus. How important an aspect can be overlooked! Just as the time of the former transition was important, we are now in a transition period that may not be quite as important, but it is still important. Humanity is acquiring new abilities. These abilities must be applied to increasingly identify the Christ.

In 1899, the Kali Yuga had expired. New powers are developing in people, but not only those that can be gained in occult training, as it is written in “Occult Science”. In the coming decades, some people will say that they see people quite differently. Science will no longer be enough for them. People will gradually see the etheric body. Some people will foresee and predict this and that, connections and so on. This will gradually emerge.

Two things can now happen. Let us assume that anthroposophy had never existed, never said that it could explain something like this. Then people would say: those who see something like this are insane — and would put them in insane asylums. Or anthroposophy is lucky and finds its way into people's hearts. So we have two developmental currents again: These abilities, just described, develop in the outer human current; but our individuality must grow into these abilities. The human ego must learn to understand what it actually is that is developing.

It is not at all necessary that what is now being proclaimed by anthroposophy as prophecy should also be believed and heeded. And if it does not come to what was prophesied, then people would say: You see, it was just a fantasy. — 'But, only those people do not understand it, the development went as it should not have gone. Humanity would wither and freeze.

The Christ has only once lived in a physical body. When people in the pre-Christian era were able to see into the spiritual worlds, they were told: There is something else, a spiritual, that is not yet visible today, but a time will come when this will be seen, and then a time will come when this great spirit will live in the physical body. A person who knew about this lived in Palestine, but he did not recognize the Christ. Yet when he clairvoyantly recognized the Christ in the etheric body, he recognized that what he had known was to come had been fulfilled. Then he knew that the Christ had lived. That was the event of Damascus.

In his etheric body, the Christ can always be found by the clairvoyant consciousness. When this further development of humanity occurs, people will experience the event of Damascus. The abilities occur with the expiration of the Kali Yuga. And the ability to experience the event of Damascus occurs in the years 1930 to 1940. And if one does not go past this point in time blindly, then one will be able to speak of a coming to Christ. That is what is called in the occult schools: the return of Christ. Then an age will come that will last 2500 years. More and more people will live their way up to the Christ through the anthroposophical view. In the first half of the 20th century, the return of Christ will be able to occur. Deepened and further developed, Christianity will become that.

We may say today what was said then: Change your soul's disposition so that you may find the Kingdom of Heaven, which is drawing near! Care must be taken that this time does not pass unrecognized.

It will also work through Christ for those who pass through physical death between now and then. Those who die around 1920 will be able to understand in devachan what is happening here at that time, but only if they have acquired an understanding of it in their earthly life and have prepared themselves for it.

What has now been said will be said even more often in the next ten years, so that time will not pass unused. It must also be heard by those who are so steeped in materialism that they can only think that Christ can only reappear in a physical body. False messiahs will arise around the middle of the twentieth century who will tell people that they are Christ. And true anthroposophy will know that they are not, that only materialistic ideas are at play. So it is important for anthroposophists to know that spiritual life must be there.

We live in an important transitional epoch, we can say. Times are running fast. The Kali Yuga lasted 5000 years. The next epoch will last 2500 years.

The coming together with the Christ is what is now imminent. The Christ will not descend to humanity, but humanity will ascend to the Christ.

Translated by Anna R. Meuss

Today we are to deal with the question of the ensoulment of creatures other than man, especially the question whether animals have any kind of soul. Such things appear superfluous to one who hurries by them without attention, and yet noted men of the past have already occupied themselves with them. Cartesius (Descartes), who at the beginning of the 17th Century was a keen renewer of the philosophy which decayed in the Middle Ages, put the question. But he regarded animals as machines—beings of which one could not really speak of a real ensoulment—reflex machines.

Whoever thoughtfully regards animal life can only share this view with difficulty. We need merely to point out that many animals in our environment perform actions, and enter into relationships even among themselves, which are difficult to imagine without a soul. One example is the faithfulness of the dog. We can only with difficulty give ourselves to the thought that nothing lives in its inner being analogous to what lives in man. If we consider certain performances, can we disregard a higher, spiritual activity? Let us consider, for example, a beaver's dam. This so artistically constructed performance would denote for a man a great spiritual effort. A deep wisdom lies, for instance, in the way certain beams are adapted most exactly in the correct angle, to the fall of the water, and the prevailing conditions.

Consider the ants. In each ant heap, you meet something like a wise state order of human beings—indeed transcending that of modern man. The ants are divided into three groups: workers, males, and females. It is demonstrable that the workers are very clever, the females more stupid, and the males very stupid. Everything in the structure is elaborately organized—the way they procure everything necessary for the building and for the rearing of the young, the way they lead their foraging expeditions, etc. If all this within a human state needs a soul, then we cannot deny an ensouling to these creatures. People always satisfy themselves with “instinct,” but they never attempt to think about anything underlying this “instinct.”

We must now also consider the other side, and not overlook the radical distinction between what man performs with his soul, and the animal with its soul. As an example, we will start from a definite fact. Travelers have often noticed that if they kindled a fire because of the cold, after they left it the apes would come and warm themselves at it. They never observed, however, that an ape had fetched some wood, to keep the fire going. It cannot arrive at this combination, and that is eminently important. It can never, from its own spiritual powers, do anything new, such as stir up the fire, etc.

If we want to make clear to ourselves the animal soul, we must start with this difference from the human soul. A further difference between the animal and human soul is that you can write a biography of each human soul, but not of the animal. That is very important. If you ask yourselves about your interests in different beings, you will find that you bring the same interest to an individual man as in the case of the animals, to a whole group of similar ones. Think of a lion. You feel the same towards the lion-grandfather, father, son, grandson, etc., but this idea would appear to you nonsensical, if applied to human beings.

It says nothing when a dog owner perhaps maintains that he could write a biography of his dog. You could also write a biography of a pen, or the differences in the life of a pin and a needle. That is only an overdrawn distinction. Just as strongly as one whole animal species differs from another, does the single individual person differ from another.

One common soul lives in the entire animal group. As your ten fingers are members of your hands, so are all wolves members of the wolf group soul.

Now we must enter more exactly into the nature of the human soul, which formerly was not as individualized as it is today. At one point of human evolution, man stood far closer to the group soul. Tacitus, one hundred years after Christ, gives us a picture of the different tribal groups. All members of a group then felt themselves belonging together, naturally with gradations, for everything in human evolution is in stages. All members of a group then looked alike. The markedly individual physiognomies are the sign of this freeing of the individual souls from the group soul. You still find today, among savages, more or less the same features. We must hold fast to this fact, that the physiognomy coming to expression is the proof that the individuality works formatively on the body. This will be more and more marked among the further evolved human races. A time will come when the racial character entirely recedes. If a soul incarnates, now in this, now in that nationality, then the national distinctions vanish, and each one will always only remember himself the more his individuality has worked itself out. Formerly, when marriage only took place within the tribe, the members held together like the fingers of the hand, one revenging the wrong done to another, as if it had happened to himself, etc. This cohesion disappeared more and more; the larger, and more general, the aggregation of human beings, all the more individual became the soul and character. A medley does not arise, but the more the distinctions fall away, the more does individuality arise.

Now, in what way are the human group souls distinguished from the animal? For this we must go back far into the story of their origin.

There was a time in which man did not yet live, as now, in his various bodily sheaths and spiritual germ of his being. I mean the Lemurian Age. At that time the highest beings were a kind of human-animal, with physical, etheric, astral bodies, and the tendency to the ego, but not yet the ego itself, beings that were adapted to take up the divine germ. The soul which now lives in their inner being, had not yet left the bosom of the Godhead. It still lived in a soul-spiritual stratum. Think of a vessel of water with 1000 drops, which pass over without separation into each other, thus forming a unity. Take 1000 tiny sponges, each one of which can absorb one drop, and immerse them. Then each will be filled with one drop. You must think similarly that the human sheaths absorb the divine germ; thereby they first become individual and independent.

Now imagine that in the beginning the soul did not take up its dwelling in each single one, but that one soul distributed itself as group soul among many. What today dwells in one, then inhabited a whole tribe. Here you must grasp a new concept. Such a group soul does not die. The beautiful, significant side of death is a specific privilege of the individual human soul. If one part of the group soul dies, then it immediately replaces it, like the tentacle you cut from a polypus. Thus the group soul, which does not descend to the physical plane, feels death as the loss of one member, and birth as the growing of a similar one. It has not the privilege of death. Only when a sense being says “It is I,” death begins to enter individual life. Man struggles for and attains his higher life through death. Unless death were overcome, he could not attain through it to higher life.

The soul of the animal is to be found on the astral plane, and is connected with each single member of its group by a thread. In order to understand how animal group souls arise, you must be clear what makes man the physical being that he is. When the divine germs descended, they found the bearers very different. Many were especially developed for conflict; others were similarly formed but more developed for work, for patience, etc., so that the various bodies differed greatly in development even in external form. What today exist as lower animals, as insects, etc., had already branched off during a former incarnation of the earth, and originated by themselves. We are now concerned only with animals from the fishes upwards. When that descent occurred into the waiting bodies, which outwardly (not inwardly) stood approximately at the stage of the fish body, there were no mammals yet existing. The human being who lived then had to move forward half swimming, half floating, and for this purpose had fin-like organs. That which took place in his body on earth, took place through the indwelling human soul. Only in the course of a long evolution was this body transformed to the present god-like body.

Many things remained stationary on this long path. Since, however, the earth was meantime transformed, this standing still caused a decline in the development of the bodies. Take two brothers—the one is transformed through the different ages of life, the other remains stationary at the childhood stage. At the age of 60, however, he no longer looks like a child. Thus the present fishes have come down and look different from how they looked formerly.

Humanity developed further, and fashioned everything to the mammalian body. Everywhere, again, are those who remain stationary—decadent human beings. If you really grasp aright, you will understand that all animals have aged at the youth stage, have aged too early, have adopted fixed forms which they should have gone beyond. They have, as it were, crystallized in their whole evolution. The upward development, indeed, now brought man into a peculiar position, with reference to certain characteristics. He lost security. Monkeys in captivity soon end through tuberculosis and other illnesses. Animals cannot stand the human way of life. Even as regards nourishment, they have a certain security. If a cow goes over a meadow, she knows exactly what plants are good for her. Man has that no more. He needs insecurity in order to come to freedom of choice. The present insecurity is necessary to reach security at a higher stage. Man adapts himself to higher stages. Thus his becoming insecure is the guarantee that he becomes independent. To have remained secure denotes something that has not advanced to the point where the ego can work in the individual being. We should wonder as little about animal wisdom as about the wisdom of our own hand. The single beaver is merely the handyman of the group soul on the astral plane.

The ant stands at quite a different stage from the beaver, and much further from us, because it already separated off at a much earlier planetary condition of the earth. In its one-sided development it has advanced much further than man. Man thinks, feels, wills, in fixed connection. If I see something which pleases me I grasp at it; the idea evokes the will. Without this interaction man would be very insecure. With the Chela, will, idea, and feeling are torn asunder, and must be quite separate. For general humanity that will first be attained at the Jupiter stage of the earth. But before he experiences this, the Guardian of the Threshold meets him, and gives him clarity about the whole of his previous life.

This falling apart into threefoldness has been gone through prematurely by certain animal group souls. As a matter of fact, individual parts in the brain of the Chela are differentiated like the ants in the ant hill. The ant has undertaken that prematurely and now remains like an unripe, clever child. The beaver group soul will have to make up for what it has missed; the ant soul has lost it once and for all, and goes quite other paths.

The animal souls are human souls that have become one-sided. Oken says: “The tongue is an ink fish.” Naturally, that is not to be taken literally. The being, however, in which the characteristics of the tongue have become too prominent, remains stationary at that point. Paracelsus uttered the profound words: If we survey nature we simply see separate letters and the word they form is the human being. Imagine all the different qualities which you find together in man, allocated to different bodies, then you need a group soul. Animals are human beings which have remained stationary in the one-sided development of their characteristics.

Man became a discoverer through the loss of security. The first element which he learned to put to his service was fire. Therewith he reached the first stage of civilization which made him a productive being. He is an encyclopedia of the different animal souls.

Now you must still be clear on one point. If you go to the lower animals, you will find that they cannot directly express pain and pleasure through sound. The insects, indeed, produce noises, but they are body noises. Occult science here makes a quite decisive distinction between the sounding animals and the non-sounding ones. But, first, in man, does the inner sound become word, speech. Even the highest animals have only one-sidedly developed sounds. In a later epoch the animal group souls, not the single animals, will become human beings but quite differently constituted from the man today. Even before Theosophy, Goethe felt this and expressed it wonderfully in his “Metamorphosis of Animals”; that they (animals) are like a man laid asunder, that the entire animal kingdom looks out from out of the human form.

Thus man says to all animal beings (speaking of himself), “All this, comprised in one, art thou!”

Question: Will further cleavages come in human evolution?

Answer: Yes, and in fact that is what is called in Theosophy “going through the Crisis.” We now stand in the Fifth Root Race. The Sixth Race will see quite another race, noble and beautiful, in contrast to the thrown off, decadence which will be a race of men, horribly ugly, animal-like, sensual, vicious, far more horror-provoking than our present humanity, because these will go on developing downwards. It is shown quite clearly in the Apocalypse how the division will occur in the so-called Last Judgment. He who is quite selfless can even now become ripe for the Sixth Race. He may still indeed continue to incarnate, but only in order to help the others. Many may perhaps find that the Judgment sounds harsh, but they have, as we know, the choice. Understand me aright, not for reincarnation, but for the Sixth Race.

Question: Why do old people become mentally weak, even if the soul cannot change?

Answer: The soul, indeed, does not change. It never descends from the stage once reached. But its instrument has become weak, like a great pianist who can no longer play as he played formerly, if he has a bad instrument. You will say the soul no longer knows its own stage. Yes, the soul does not see itself as long as it is in a physical body. There is only to be found the reflection of the soul, the mirror image. Now the mirror becomes clouded or broken. Then it can no longer reflect. The Chela is really the first able to perceive his soul.

After the fourth lecture of the Easter Course for physicians and
medical students, Dornach, April 21–25, 1924.

(Rudolf Steiner said the following in response to a question about
the grasping of the fluid man by imaginative perception.)

Now, of course, you will only be able to manage here if you proceed from a comprehensive view, and not from details. One would have to investigate such questions by proceeding from more comprehensive things and especially by meditating on some of the things which I already said. If we take the connections in nature in a comprehensive way—I will only speak of things which will gradually lead to imaginative thinking—we have the drop form. One generally thinks that a drop is held together from within, but it is also possible to think that it is formed from outside or from all sides. Then one has the circumference of the universe in the surface of a drop.

Of course, in these things one should realize that the imaginative idea must be true, and that the present-day ideas which one brings with one from one's general education diverge as far as is possible from the truth.

People have this idea today that there is an infinite space which has stars scattered in it. Now, to proceed from such an idea means that one is imagining things and is brutally ignoring everything but what one has made up in thought. Just take a report which was in the paper a little while ago, and which should be taken more seriously than one thinks; they were trying to show that the cosmos is not empty after a certain distance from the earth, but that it is solid and filled with crystallized nitrogen. Things are so confused today that such a view is possible. Of course, it is untrue, but in any case, these things show one how superficial the assumptions which have been derived from observation till now are. For today someone can just decide to imagine that we live here in an empty space with a slightly condensed earth at the center with solidified nitrogen all around, and that this simulates the starry heavens for us. Of course it is nonsense but it is true that if one reads the literature today one can pick up all kinds of ideas about the way the cosmos is constituted. This report on crystallized nitrogen might just as well have been an April fool's joke, and yet many people probably believe it. One is hardly anymore foolish if one believes this report than if one believes what is generally assumed today. The thinking which is accepted today is brutally materialistic for in reality the universe acts like a hollow sphere and as if forces from the periphery were going into it everywhere. One is really dealing with formations which can only be modified and differentiated in accordance with the stars, so that it is true that we have a copy of the configuration of the stars which we see outside in us. Thus we arrive at an imagination through the idea which our head shows us.

Speaking about heads, take a look at the way a bird is constructed. One is looking at a bird's structure or skeleton in the wrong way if one simply compares it with a whole mammal or human being. You can really only compare a bird's structure with a human head, and one has to imagine that one has a modified bird formation in the human head, and that the bird has the rest of its body attached in various ways as short appendages. Birds' legs are always stunted.

Now imagine that our drop is drawn out into a cylinder. If you expand the drop into a cylinder and you imagine that the part of the head which is differentiated by the cosmos remains, except that it becomes modified in many ways, because you draw the drop out into a cylinder, you then get the human torso. In order to imagine man's torso, one has to think that the skullcap is rudimentary. The third stage is to indent the cylinder here, and then you get the limb man. What I drew here is what you would initially get at the arms. You have to imagine that you expand this to get the arms, and that the second expansion is made through the creation of a second copy from within which comes from the moon. But let us omit the arms to make it easier. So you pass over from a sphere to an expansion and then to indentations. If you get used to making images through expansion and indentations in this way you are beginning to get what you need in order to really accustom your soul to work in the imaginative sphere. For basically all organized life consists of expansion and infolding and just think how wonderful that really is.

So let us say that I imagine a sphere, and then an elongated sphere; this is an expansion in an upwards direction which is brought about by the periphery. If you think that the earth and its forces here are a counterimage of the periphery then you have the earth under the human being as that which indents him. The cosmos expands up above and the earth indents down below. Thus an image is brought from the cosmos and man is indented by the earth. You can now ask what would happen if the earth were not beneath you and the starry heavens weren't over you, and you can answer this in an imaginative way And so if you want to form imaginations you should get used to looking at the universe as a whole when you pass over from solids to fluids, and you should not just try to sort of re-educate yourselves. You should gradually think: solid, sharp contours, whereas the fluidic element is always battling solids and is trying to insert them into the flow and the stream of the entire universe. And you will then get to the point of seeing this expansion and indentation everywhere, and you will thereupon look for counterimages.

Embryologists proceed in such a way that one never really knows why things develop the way that they do. One proceeds from an egg cell and passes over into a clump of cells, and one sees how the thing suddenly folds in and becomes a gastrula. One should realize that what is really happening here is that the cosmos has the possibility of working upon the surface and that the earth can work upon the infolding process.

Take an epidermis cell near the surface. They exist everywhere. Such a cell is here near the surface. The terrestrial principle which brings about the infolding continues to work in the human being. And so these terrestrial principles continue to work everywhere. Thereby there is always a tendency to direct fluidic things in people, so that things always move along in this way and so that an indentation is pushed along; indentation—push from behind, indentation—push from behind, this goes in various directions. Now imagine that this occurs as if some kind of fluid would move forward and become rigid. Look at an organ from this point of view. You can see rigidified, solidified and infolded things everywhere in it, and on the other hand, you can see its outward bulges. Thereby you arrive at the organ's form and at a view of how forces work from various sides, and you see that all these organs are part of a unity. However, you should realize that you must proceed from a quite particular point, namely, from the plastic element. Now, you have already pointed out that one should grasp forms through modeling. But actually try to get a feeling for what happens by taking some soft, plastic material or clay with one hand and pushing it forward with the other hand. Try to observe what is happening at the same time. You get the feeling that the idea of empty space is pure nonsense. Space has different kinds of forces in it everywhere and in this way you gradually learn to understand plastic things.

Now, of course, if you want to understand man in a plastic way you must be able to go to extremes. Thus I can think of a sphere here. I imagine that the sphere becomes expanded on one side and infolded on the other. But now imagine that you go further and that you push it in so far here that you go beyond the expansion; then you get two formations. But now imagine that the formations do not just become acted upon from one side. Imagine that you make an expansion, infolding, expansion, infolding, and then another infolding from below and an expansion on the top, and if you do this three times you get a model of the forms of the two lungs. Thus you can gradually see how the whole human being is connected with such forces within, and then you can go on to the following.

This is a very important idea, and its pathological, therapeutic significance will become completely clear when the book which Dr. Wegman and I are publishing appears (Fundamentals of Therapy). There one will be able to see the connection which exists between a fully developed organ and its function. Let us take the organ's function. This is something which is kept in connection with fluids and which is fluctuating continuously—the same thing which closed the organ off produces the activity. So that you can ask: What is the movement of juices in the stomach? It is something fluid which is basically the same thing as the stomach which has become solid. If you imagine that the movement of juices has become rigidified, you have the stomach. If this were not the case, no organ could be healed. You can only work upon a fluctuating organ and not upon a solid organ.

Silica acts in the same way that the human kidney does. If I give the silica which is in equisetum to a patient I build up the phantom of a kidney in his renal region. The phantom then replaces the astral activity at this place. This presses out old kidney substances and permits some new kidney substances to form from what is in flux, just as it forms there in any case after seven to eight years. However, one accelerates the process by producing this phantom. One should realize that an organ and the activity which forms it are always present together, and that this activity always rigidifies into the organ. This is where you encounter the fluidic human being.

But then you run into something else. You have to be able to press on to the idea that if I look at the solid human being I arrive at the pictures which one sees in anatomical books. But what we see there is only ten percent of the human being. As long as I look at these firm contours in the solid man a liver is a liver, a lung is a lung and a stomach is a stomach. But if I pass over to the fluidic man I will find that this stream of juices is particularly concentrated in the liver, let us say, and that it is constructing a liver out of fluids. However, every organ always wants to become the whole human being. This tendency is present in every organ in the fluid man. So that one should realize that if one cuts a liver out it remains a liver. But if I would take out the fluids with which the liver is created they would have the tendency to become a whole human being. You have to put this into an imagination: on the one side the tendency to take on contours, and on the other side the tendency to permeate everything.

If one is serious about these things they are really as follows. The meditation formulas are the beginning, and through them you will eventually be able to tell yourselves what I am telling you here. The beginning lies everywhere in the formulas, and they are the way to get into imagination oneself. Anyone who begins to meditate has an enormous inner desire in the beginning, but after a certain point when things begin to get serious something in him revolts, because the thing gets enormously complicated.

If one does not approach meditation in an extraordinarily serious way what happens to one is like what happens to someone who looks for Lucifer but sees a picture of Ahriman instead. Then the meditation works in such a way that one gets the opposite of what one is striving for. Or someone looks for Ahriman and sees a picture of Lucifer. That is the trouble. One usually becomes impatient and doesn't stick with it. It is not a question of time but of an intense application of patience, and then five minutes on a meditation can sometimes be a very long time. But it doesn't make any difference whether one loses one's patience in five months or in five minutes. You must have patience and then you will see that you can begin to understand things, and that you can pass over from the solid man to the fluid man.

If you then go on to the aeriform man you will need a musical principle. Here you have to understand the breathing process, and if you really meditate you will become attentive to your breath. The astral, aeriform man appears. You will begin to realize that most people go through life without any real self-knowledge. One learns to feel with one's breath. One of the things which happens first if one is in the habit of thinking in a mathematical or qualitative way is that one may suddenly ask oneself: Are you three halves? One feels as if one were three halves. Why is that? It is because one's breathing is beginning to make one feel that one has a threefold lung on one side and a twofold lung on the other. In this way one can ascend to the astral, aeriform element, by experiencing the proportions of one's inner structures through air.

A way to study the ego organization is to listen exactly to one's own speech. You can also get at the ego organization in a meditative way which ascends to a real understanding, if you take the skeleton of a dog or other mammal and concentrate very hard on its rear and front parts. One part is a modification of the other part. Then you have to pass over to cosmic aspects and think that the rear form was created by moon forces and the front one by sun forces and you should imagine how the sun looks at the moon, and then you have the animal's hindquarters on the moon side and its forequarters on the sun side. Then imagine that a modification of the sun and moon occurs so that man can stand upright and you will get a transformation. Thereby, the whole thing gets shifted up one level, and you can begin to grasp the ego organization. But you have to proceed in the following way: the spatial element must disappear into the plastic element, the plastic element into the musical element and the musical element into what has meaning.

If you proceed in this way, you are moving towards comprehensive things, and this is really the healthier way, because you can get completely confused the other way. You really have to start with these principles and not with the details.

At the beginning of yesterday's lecture I pointed out how different are the impressions received by the soul when, on the one hand, it allows the well-balanced, calm, passionless, emotionless, truly wise nature of the Bhagavad Gita to work upon it, and on the other hand that which holds sway in the Epistles of St. Paul. In many respects these give the impression of being permeated by personal emotions, personal views and points of view, by a certain, for the whole collective evolution of man on earth, agitating sense of propagandism; they are even choleric, sometimes stormy. If we allow the manner in which the spiritual content of both is expressed to work upon us, we have in the Gita something so perfect, expressed in such a wonderful, artistically rounded way, that one could not well imagine a greater perfection of expression, revealed poetically and yet so philosophically. In the Epistles of St. Paul, on the other hand, we often find what one might call an awkwardness of expression, so that on account of this, which sometimes approaches clumsiness, it is extremely difficult to extract their deep meaning. Yet it is nevertheless true that that which relates to Christianity in the Epistles of St. Paul is the keynote for its development, just as the union of the world-conceptions of the East is the keynote of the Gita. In the Epistles of St. Paul we find the significant basic truths of Christianity as to the Resurrection, the significance of what is called Faith as compared with the Law, of the influence of grace, of the life of Christ in the soul or in the human consciousness, and many other things; we find all these presented in such a way that any presentation of Christianity must always be based on these Pauline Epistles. Everything in them refers to Christianity, as everything in the Gita refers to the great truths as to liberating oneself from works, to the freeing of oneself from the immediate life of action, in order to devote oneself to contemplation, to the meditation of the soul, to the upward penetration of the soul into spiritual heights, to the purification of the soul; in short, according to the meaning of the Gita, to the union with Krishna. All that has just been described makes a comparison of these two spiritual revelations extremely difficult, and anyone who merely makes an external comparison will doubtless be compelled to place the Bhagavad Gita, in its purity, calm and wisdom, higher than the Epistles of St. Paul. But what is a person who makes such an outward comparison actually doing? He is like a man who, having before him a fully grown plant, with a beautiful blossom, and beside it the seed of a plant; were to say: “When I look at the plant with its beautiful, fully-developed blossom, I see that it is much more beautiful than the insignificant, invisible seed.” Yet it might be that out of that seed lying beside the plant with the beautiful blossom, a still more beautiful plant with a still more beautiful blossom, might some day spring forth. It is really no proper comparison to compare two things to be found side by side, such as a fully-developed plant and a quite undeveloped seed; and thus it is if one compares the Bhagavad Gita with the Epistles of St. Paul. In the Bhagavad Gita we have before us something like the ripest fruit, the most wonderful and beautiful representation of a long human evolution, which had grown up during thousands of years and in the Epistles of St. Paul we have before us the germ of something completely new which must grow greater and greater, and which we can only grasp in all its full significance if we look upon it as germinal, and hold prophetically before us what it will some day become, when thousands and thousands of years of evolution shall have flowed into the future and that which is planted as a germ in the Pauline Epistles shall have grown riper and riper. Only if we bear this in mind can we make a proper comparison. It then also becomes clear that that which is some day to become great and which is first to be found in invisible form from the depths of Christianity in the Pauline Epistles, had once to pour forth in chaotic fashion from the human soul. Thus things must be represented in a different way by one who is considering the significance on the one hand of the Bhagavad Gita, and on the other of the Pauline Epistles for the whole collective evolution of man on earth, from the way they can be depicted by another person who can only judge of the complete works as regards their beauty and wisdom and inner perfection of form.

If we wish to draw a comparison between the different views of life which appear in the Bhagavad Gita and the Epistles of St. Paul, we must first inquire: What is the chief point in question? The point in question is that in all we are able to survey historically of the two views of life, what we are chiefly concerned with is the drawing down of the “ego” into the evolution of mankind. If we trace the ego through the evolution of mankind, we can say that in the pre-Christian times it was still dependent, it was still, as it were, rooted in concealed depths of the soul, it had not yet acquired the possibility of developing itself. Development of an individual character only became possible when into that ego was thrown, as it were, the impulse which we describe as the Christ-Impulse. That which since the Mystery of Golgotha may be within the human ego and which is expressed in the words of St. Paul: “Not I, but Christ in me,” that could not formerly be within it. But in the ages when there was already an approach to the Christ-Impulse—in the last thousand years before the Mystery of Golgotha—that which was about to take place through the introduction of the Christ-Impulse into the human soul was slowly prepared, particularly in such a way as that expressed in the act of Krishna. That which, after the Mystery of Golgotha, a man had to look for as the Christ-Impulse in himself, which he had to find in the Pauline sense: “Not I, but Christ in me,” that he had, before the Mystery of Golgotha, to look for outside, he had to look for it coming to him as a revelation from cosmic distances. The further we go back into the ages, the more brilliant, the more impulsive was the revelation from without. We may therefore say: In the ages before the Mystery of Golgotha, a certain revelation came to mankind like sunshine falling upon an object from without. Just as the light falls upon this object, so did the light of the spiritual sun fall from without upon the soul of man, and enlightened it. After the Mystery of Golgotha we can speak of that which works in the soul as Christ-Impulse, as the spiritual sunlight, as though we saw a self-illumined body before us radiating its light from within. If we look at it thus, the fact of the Mystery of Golgotha becomes a significant boundary line in human evolution. We can represent

the whole connection, symbolically. If we take this circle (Diagram 1) as representing the human soul, we may say that the spiritual light streams in from without from all sides into this human soul. Then comes the Mystery of Golgotha, after which the soul possesses the Christ-Impulse in itself and radiates Forth that which is contained in the Christ-Impulse (Diagram 2). Just as a drop which is illumined from all sides radiates and reflects this illumination, so does the soul appear before the Christ-Impulse. As a flame which is alight within and radiates forth its light, thus does the soul appear after the Mystery of Golgotha, if it has been able to receive the Christ-Impulse.

Bearing this in mind we can express this whole relation by means of the terms we have learnt in Sankhya philosophy. We may say: If we direct our spiritual eye to a soul which, before the Mystery of Golgotha, is irradiated from all sides by the light of the spirit, and we see the whole connection of this spirit which pours in upon the soul from all sides radiating to us in its spirituality, the whole then appears to us in what the Sankhya philosophy describes as the Sattva condition. On the other hand, if we contemplate a soul after the Mystery of Golgotha had been accomplished, looking at it from outside as it were, with the spiritual eye, it seems as though the spiritual light were hidden away in its innermost depths and as if the soul-nature concealed it. The spiritual light appears to us as though veiled by the soul-substance, that spiritual light which, since the Mystery of Golgotha, is contained in the Christ-Impulse. Do we not perceive this verified up to our own age, indeed especially in our own age, with regard to all that man experiences externally? Observe a man today, see what he has to occupy himself with as regards his external knowledge and his occupation; and try to compare with this how the Christ-Impulse lives in man, as if hidden in his inmost being, like a yet tiny, feeble flame, veiled by the rest of the soul's contents. That is Tamas as compared with the pre-Christian state, which latter, as regards the relation of soul and spirit, was the Sattva-state. What part, therefore, in this sense does the Mystery of Golgotha play in the evolution of mankind? As regards the revelation of the spirit, it transforms the Sattva into the Tamas state. By means of it mankind moves forward, but it undergoes a deep fall, one may say, not through the Mystery of Golgotha, but through itself. The Mystery of Golgotha causes the flame to grow greater and greater: but the reason the flame appears in the soul as only a very small one—whereas before a mighty light poured in on it from all sides—is that progressing human nature is sinking deeper and deeper into darkness. It is not, therefore the fault of the Mystery of Golgotha that the human soul, as regards the spirit, is in the Tamas condition, for the Mystery of Golgotha will bring it to pass in the distant future that out of the Tamas condition a Sattva condition will again come about, which will then be set aflame from within. Between the Sattva and the Tamas condition there is, according to Sankhya philosophy, the Rajas condition; and this is described as being that time in human evolution in which falls the Mystery of Golgotha. Humanity itself, as regards the manifestation of the Spirit, went along the path from light into darkness, from the Sattva into the Tamas condition, just during the thousand years which surrounded the Mystery of Golgotha.

If we look more closely into this evolution, we may say: If we take the line a-b as the time of the evolution of mankind, up to about the eighth or seventh century before the Mystery of Golgotha, all human civilisation was then in the Sattva condition.

 7th Century B.C. 15th, 16th Century A.D. A-------------------------x------------------------x-----------------------B
 Chald-Egypt. Graeco-Latin Period. Our own age. 

Then began the age in which occurred the Mystery of Golgotha, followed by our own age some fifteen or sixteen centuries after the Mystery of Golgotha. Then quite definitely begins the Tamas age, but it is a period of transition. If we wish to use our customary designations we have the first age—which, in a sense, as regards certain spiritual revelations, still belongs to the Sattva condition—occurring at the same epoch as that which we call the Chaldean-Egyptian, that which is the Rajas-condition is the Graeco-Latin, and that which is in the Tamas condition is our own age.' We know, too, that what is called the Chaldean-Egyptian age is the third of the Post-Atlantean conditions the Graeco-Latin the fourth, and our own the fifth. It was therefore necessary one might say, in accordance with the plan of the evolution of mankind, that between the third and fourth Post-Atlantean epochs there should occur a deadening, as it were, of external revelation. How was mankind really prepared for the blazing up of the Christ-Impulse? How did this preparation really occur?

If we want to make quite clear to ourselves the difference between the spiritual conditions of mankind in the third epoch of humanity—the Chaldean-Egyptian—and the following epochs, we must say: In this third age in all these countries, in Egypt as well as in Chaldea, and also in India, there still was in humanity the remains of the old clairvoyant power: that is to say, man not only saw the worlds around him with the assistance of his senses and of the understanding connected with the brain, but he could also still see the surrounding world with the organs of his etheric body, at any rate, under certain conditions, between sleeping and waking. If we wish to picture to ourselves a man of that epoch, we can only do so by saying: To those men a perception of nature and of the world such as we have through our senses and the understanding bound up with the brain was only one of the conditions which they experienced. In those conditions they gained as yet no knowledge, but merely, as it were, gazed at things and let them work, side by side in space and one after another in time. If these men wanted to acquire knowledge they had to enter a condition, not artificially produced as in our time, but occurring naturally, as if of itself, in which their deeper-lying forces, the forces of their etheric bodies, operated for producing knowledge. Out of knowledge such as this came forth all that appears as the wonderful knowledge of the Sankhya philosophy; from such a contemplation also went forth all that has come down to us in the Vedas—although that belongs to a still earlier age. Thus the man of that time acquired knowledge by putting himself or allowing himself to be put into another condition. He had so to say his everyday condition, in which he saw with his eyes, heard with his ears, and followed things with his ordinary understanding; but this seeing, hearing and understanding he only made use of when occupied in external practical business. It would never have occurred to him to make use of these capacities for the acquiring of knowledge. In order to acquire knowledge and perception he made use of what came to him in that other condition in which he brought into activity the deepest forces of his being.

We can therefore think of man in those old times as having, so to say, an everyday body, and within that everyday body his finer spiritual body, his Sunday body, if I may use such a comparison. With his everyday body he did his everyday work, and with his Sunday body—which was woven of the etheric body alone—he perceived and perfected his science. One would be justified in saying that a man of that olden time would be astonished that we in our day hew out our knowledge by means of our everyday body, and never put on our Sunday body when we wish to learn something about the world. Well, how did such a man experience all these conditions? The experiencing of these was such that when a man perceived by means of his deeper forces, when he was in that state of perception in which, for instance, he studied Sankhya philosophy, he did not then feel as does the man of today, who, when he wishes to acquire knowledge must exert his reason and think with his head. He, when he acquired knowledge, felt himself to be in his etheric body, which was certainly least developed in what today is the physical head, but was more pronounced in the other parts; man thought much more by means of the other parts of his etheric body. The etheric body of the head is the least perfect part of it. A man felt, so to say, that he thought with his etheric body; he felt himself when thinking, lifted out of his physical body; but at such moments of learning, of creative knowledge, he felt something more besides; he felt that he was in reality one with the earth. When he took off his everyday body and put on his Sunday body, he felt as though forces passed through his whole being; as though forces passed through his legs and feet and united him to the earth, just as the forces which pass through our hands and arms unite them with our body. He began to feel himself a member of the earth. On the one hand, he felt that he thought and knew in his etheric body, and on the other he felt himself no longer a separate man, but a member of the earth. He felt his being growing into the earth. Thus the whole inner manner of experiencing altered when a man drew on his Sunday body and prepared himself for knowledge. What, then, had to happen in order that this old old age—the third—should so completely cease, and the new age—the fourth—should come in? If we wish to understand what had to happen then, it would be well to try to feel our way a little into the old method of description.

A man who in that olden time experienced what I have just described, would say: “The serpent has become active within me.” His being lengthened out into the earth; he no longer felt his physical body as the really active part of him; he felt as though he stretched out a serpent-like continuation of himself into the earth and the head was that which projected out of the earth. And he felt this serpent being to be the thinker. We might draw the man's being thus: his etheric body passing into the earth, elongated into a serpent-body and, whilst outside the earth as physical man, he was stretched down into the earth during the time of perceiving and knowing, and thought with his etheric body.

“The serpent is active within me,” said he. To perceive was therefore in the olden time something like this: “I rouse the serpent within me to a state of activity; I feel my serpent-nature.” What had to happen, so that the new age should come in, that the new method of

perceiving should come about? It had to be no longer possible for those moments to occur in which man felt his being extended down into the earth through his legs and feet; besides which perception had to die out in his etheric body and pass over to the physical head. If you can rightly picture this passing over of the old perception into the new, you will say: a good expression for this transition would be: “I am wounded in the feet, but with my own body I tread under foot the head of the serpent,” that is to say, the serpent with its head ceases to be the instrument of thought. The physical body and especially the physical brain, kills the serpent, and the serpent revenges itself by taking away from one the feeling of belonging to the earth. It bites one in the heel.

At such times of transition from one form of human experience into another, that which comes, as it were, from the old epoch, comes into conflict with that which is coming in the new epoch; for these things are still really contemporaneous. The father is still in existence long after the son's life has begun; although the son is descended from the father. The attributes of the fourth epoch, the Graeco-Latin were there, but those of the third, the Egyptian-Chaldean epoch, still stirred and moved in men and in nations. These attributes naturally became intermingled in the course of evolution, but that which thus appears as the newly-arisen, and that which comes, as it were, out of the olden times, continue to live contemporaneously, but can no longer understand each other properly. The old does not understand the new. The new must protect itself against the old, must defend its life against it; that is to say, the new is there, but the ancestors with their attributes belonging to the old epoch, still work in their descendants, the ancestors who have taken no part in the new. Thus we may describe the transition from the third epoch of humanity to the fourth. There had therefore to be a hero, as we might say—a leader of humanity who, in a significant manner, first represents this process of the killing of the serpent, of being wounded by it; while he had at the same time to struggle against that which was certainly related to him, but which with its attributes still shone into the new age from the old. In the advance of mankind, one person must first experience the whole greatness of that which later all generations experience. Who was the hero who crushed the head of the serpent, who struggled against that which was important in the third epoch? Who was he who guided mankind out of the old Sattva-time into the new Tamas-time? That was Krishna-and how could this be more clearly shown than by the Eastern legend in which Krishna is represented as being a son of the Gods, a son of Mahadeva and Devaki, who entered the world surrounded by miracles (that betokens that he brings in something new), and who, if I may carry my example further, leads men to look for wisdom in their everyday body, and who crushes their Sunday body—the serpent; who has to defend himself against that which projects into the new age from his kindred. Such a one is something new, something miraculous. Hence the legend relates how the child Krishna, even at his birth, was surrounded by miracles, and that Kansa, the brother of his mother, wished to take the life of the child. In the uncle of the child Krishna we see the continuance of the old, and Krishna has to defend himself against him; for Krishna had to bring in the new, that which kills the third epoch and does away with the old conditions for the external evolution of mankind. He had to defend himself against Kansa, the inhabitant of the old Sattva age; and amongst the most remarkable of the miracles with which Krishna is surrounded, the legend relates that the mighty serpent Kali twined round him, but that he was able to tread the head of the serpent under foot, though it wounded his heel. Here we have something of which we may say the legend directly reproduces an occult fact. That is what legends do; only we ought not to seek an external explanation, but should grasp the legend aright, in the true light of knowledge, in order to understand it.

Krishna is the hero of the setting third Post-Atlantean epoch of humanity. The legend relates further that Krishna appeared at the end of the third cosmic epoch. It all corresponds when rightly understood. Krishna is therefore he who kills out the old perception, who drives it into the darkness. This he does in his external phenomena; he reduces to a state of darkness that which as Sattva-knowledge, was formerly possessed by mankind. Now, how is he represented in the Bhagavad Gita? He is there represented as giving to a single individual, as if in compensation for what he has taken away from him, guidance as to how through Yoga he can rise to that which was then lost to normal mankind. Thus to the world Krishna appears as the killer of the old Sattva-knowledge, while at the same time we see him at the end of the Gita as the Lord of Yoga, who is again to lead us up to the knowledge which had been abandoned; the knowledge belonging to the old ages, which we can only attain when we have overcome and conquered that which we now put on externally as an everyday dress; when we return once more to the old spiritual condition. That was the twofold deed of Krishna, He acted as a world-historical hero, in that he crushed the head of the serpent of the old knowledge and compelled man to re-enter the physical body, in which alone the ego could be won as free and independent ego, whereas formerly all that made man an ego streamed in from outside. Thus he was a world-wide historical Hero. Then to the individual he was the one who for the times of devotion, of meditation, of inner finding, gave back that which had at one time been lost. That it is which we meet with in such a grand form in the Gita, which at the end of our last lecture we allowed to work upon our souls, and which Arjuna meets as his own being seen externally; seen without beginning and without end—outspread over all space.

If we observe this condition more clearly we come to a place in the Gita which, if we have already been amazed at the great and mighty contents of the Gita, must infinitely extend our admiration. We come to a passage which, to the man of the present day, must certainly appear incomprehensible; wherein Krishna reveals to Arjuna the nature of the Avayata-tree, of the Fig-tree, by telling him that in this tree the roots grow upwards and the branches downwards; where Krishna further says that the single leaves of this tree are the leaves of the Veda book, which, put together, yield the Veda knowledge. That is a singular passage in the Gita. What does it signify, this pointing to the great tree of Life, whose roots have an upward direction, and the branches a downward direction, and whose leaves give the contents of the Veda? We must just transport ourselves back into the old knowledge, and try and understand how it worked. The man of today only has, so to say, his present knowledge, communicated to him through his physical organs. The old knowledge was acquired as we have just described, in the body which was still etheric, not that the whole man was etheric, but knowledge was acquired through the part of the etheric body which was within the physical body. Through this organism, through the organisation of the etheric body, the old knowledge was acquired. Just imagine vividly that you, when in the etheric body, could perceive by means of the serpent. There was something then present in the world, which to the man of the present day is no longer there. Certainly the man of today can realise much of what surrounds him when he puts himself into relation with nature; but just think of him when he is observing the world: there is one thing he does not perceive, and that is his brain. No man can see his own brain when he is observing; neither can any man see his own spine. This impossibility ceases as soon as one observes with the etheric body. A new object then appears which one does not otherwise see—one perceives one's own nervous system. Certainly it does not appear as the present-day anatomist sees it. It does not appear as it does to such a man, it appears in such a way that one feels: “Yes! There thou art, in thy etheric nature.” One then looks upwards and sees how the nerves, which go through all the organs, are collected together up there in the brain. That produces the feeling: “That is a tree of which the roots go upwards, and the branches stretch down into all the members.” That in reality is not felt as being of the same small size as we are inside our skin: it is felt as being a mighty cosmic tree. The roots stretch far out into the distances of space and the branches extend downwards. One feels oneself to be a serpent, and one sees one's nervous system objectified, one feels that it is like a tree which sends its roots far out into the distance of space and the branches of which go downwards. Remember what I have said in former lectures, that man is, in a sense, an inverted plant. All that you have learnt must be recalled and put together, in order to understand such a thing as this wonderful passage in the Bhagavad Gita. We are then astonished at the old wisdom which must today, by means of new methods, be called forth from the depths of occultism. We then experience what this tree brings to light. We experience in its leaves that which grows upon it; the Veda knowledge, which streams in on us from without.

The wonderful picture of the Gita stands out clearly before us: the tree with its roots going upwards, and its branches going downwards, with its leaves full of knowledge, and man himself as the serpent round the tree. You may perhaps have seen this picture, or have come across the picture of the Tree of Life with the serpent; everything is of significance when one considers these old things. Here we have the tree with the upward growing roots, and the downward-turning branches; one feels that it goes in an opposite direction to the Paradise-tree. That has its deep meaning: for the tree of Paradise is placed at the beginning of the other evolution, that which through the old Hebrew antiquity passes on into Christianity. Thus in this place we are given an indication of the whole nature of that old knowledge, and when Krishna distinctly says to his pupil Arjuna “Renunciation is the power which makes this tree visible to mankind,” we are shown how man returns to that old knowledge when he renounces everything acquired by him in the further course of evolution, which we described yesterday. That it is which is given as something grand and glorious by Krishna to his only individual pupil Arjuna as a payment on account, whilst he has to take it from the whole of humanity for the everyday use of civilisation. That is the being of Krishna. What then must that become which Krishna gives to his single individual pupil? It must become Sattva wisdom; and the better he is able to give him this Sattva wisdom, the wiser, clearer, calmer and more passionless will it be, but it will be an old revealed wisdom, something which approaches mankind from without in such a wonderful way in the words which the Sublime One, that is to say, Krishna Himself, speaks, and in those in which the single individual pupil makes reply. Thus Krishna becomes the Lord of Yoga, who leads us back to the ancient wisdom of mankind, and who always endeavours to overcome that, which even in the age of the Sattva, concealed the spirit from the soul, who wishes to bring before his pupil the spirit in its ancient purity, as it was before it descended into substance. Thus in the spirit only does Krishna appear to us in that mutual conversation between Krishna and his pupil to which we referred yesterday.

Thus we have brought before our souls the end of that epoch, which was the last one of the ages of the old spirituality; that spirituality that we can so follow that we see its full and complete spiritual light at its beginning, and then its descent into matter in order that man should find his ego, his independence. And when the spiritual light had descended as far as the fourth Post-Atlantean epoch, there was then a sort of reciprocal relationship, a Rajas relationship between the spirit and the more external soul-part. In this epoch occurred the Mystery of Golgotha. Could we describe this epoch as belonging to the Sattva-condition? No! For then we should not be describing just what belonged to that epoch! If anyone describes it correctly, as belonging to the Rajas-age—making use of that expression of Sankhya philosophy—he must describe it according to Rajas, not in terms of purity and clearness, but in a personal sense, as aroused to anger about this, or that, and so on. Thus would one have to describe it, and thus did St. Paul portray it, in the sense of its relation to Rajas. If you feel the throbbing of many a saying in the Epistles to the Thessalonians, to the Corinthians, or to the Romans, you will become aware of something akin to rage, something often like a personal characteristic pulsating in the Epistles of St. Paul, wrenching itself away from the Rajas-condition—that is the style and character of these Epistles. They had to appear thus; whereas the Bhagavad Gita had to come forth clear and free from the personal because it was the finest blossom of the dying epoch, which, however, gave one individual a compensation for that which was going under, and led him back into the heights of spiritual life. Krishna had to give the finest spiritual blossoms to his own pupil, because he was to kill out the old knowledge of mankind, to crush the head of the serpent. This Sattva-condition went under of itself, it was no longer there; and anyone, in the Rajas age who spoke of the Sattva-condition spoke only of that which was old. He who placed himself at the beginning of the newer age had to speak in accordance with what was decisive for that time. Personality had drawn into human nature because human nature had found the way to seek knowledge through the organs and instruments of the physical body. In the Pauline Epistles the personal element speaks; that is why a personality thunders against all that draws in as the darkness of the material; with words of wrath he thunders forth, for words of wrath often thunder forth in the Epistles of St. Paul. That is why the Epistles of St. Paul cannot be given in the strictly limited lines, in the sharply-defined, wise clearness of the Bhagavad Gita.

The Bhagavad Gita can speak in words full of wisdom because it describes how man may free himself from external activity, and raise himself in triumph to the spirit, how he may become one with Krishna. It could also describe in words full of wisdom the path of Yoga, which leads to the greatest heights of the soul. But that which came into the world as something new, the victory of the spirit over that which merely pertains to the soul within, that could at first only be described out of the Rajas-condition; and he who first described it in a manner significant for the history of mankind, does so full of enthusiasm; in such a way that one knows he took part in it himself, that he himself trembled before the revelation of the Christ-Impulse. The personal had then come to him, he was confronted for the first time with that which was to work on for thousands of years into the future, it came to him in such a way that all the forces of his soul had to take a personal part in it. Therefore he does not describe in philosophic concepts, full of wisdom, such as occur in the Bhagavad Gita, but describes what he has to describe as the resurrection of Christ as something in which man is directly and personally concerned.

Was it not to become personal experience? Was not Christianity to draw into what is most intimately personal, warm it through and through, and fill it with life? Truly he who described the Christ-Event for the first time could only do so as a personal experience. We can see how in the Gita the chief emphasis is laid upon the ascent through Yoga into spiritual heights; the rest is only touched upon in passing. Why is this? Because Krishna only gives his instructions to one particular pupil and does not concern himself with what other people outside in the world feel as to their connection with the spiritual. Therefore Krishna describes what his pupil must become, that he must grow higher and higher, and become more and more spiritual. That description leads to riper and riper conditions of the soul, and hence to more and more impressive pictures of beauty. Hence also it is the case that only at the end do we meet with the antagonism between the demoniacal and the spiritual, and it confirms the beauty of the ascent into the soul-life; only at the conclusion do we see the contrast between those who are demoniacal and those who are spiritual. All those people out of whom only the material speaks, who live in the material, who believe that all comes to an end with death, are demoniacal. But that is only mentioned by way of enlightenment, it is nothing with which the great teacher is really concerned: he is before all concerned with the spiritualising of the human soul. Yoga may only speak of that which is opposed to Yoga, as a side-issue. St. Paul is, above all, concerned with the whole of humanity, that humanity which is in fact in the oncoming age of darkness. He has to turn his attention to all that this age of darkness brings about in human life; he must contrast the dark life, common to all, with that which is the Christ-Impulse, and which is first to spring up as a tiny plant in the human soul. We can see it appearing in St. Paul as he points over and over again to all sorts of vice, all sorts of materialism, which must be combated through what he has to give. What he is able to give is at first a mere flickering in the human soul, which can only acquire power through the enthusiasm which lies behind his words, and which appears in triumphant words as the manifestation of feeling through personality. Thus the presentations of the Gita and of the Pauline Epistles are far removed from each other; in the clearness of the Gita the descriptions are impersonal, while St. Paul had to work the personal into his words. It is that which on the one hand gives the style, and tone to the Gita, and on the other to the Pauline Epistles; we meet it in both works, almost, one might, say in every line. Something can only attain artistic perfection when it has acquired the necessary ripeness; at the beginning of its development it always appears as more or less chaotic.

Why is all this so? This question is answered if we turn to the wonderful beginning of the Gita. We have already described it; we have seen the hosts of the kindred facing each other in battle, one warrior facing another, yet both conqueror and conquered are related to one another by blood. The time we are considering is that of the transition from the old blood-relationship, to which belongs the power of clairvoyance-to that of the differentiation and mingling of blood which is the characteristic of our modern times. We are confronted with a transformation of the outer bodily nature of man and of the perception which necessarily accompanies this. Another kind of mingling of blood, a new significance of blood now enters into the evolution of mankind. If we wish to study the transition from that old epoch to the new—I would remind you of my little pamphlet, The Occult Significance of Blood—we must say that the clairvoyance of olden times depended upon the fact that the blood was, so to say, kept in the tribe, whereas the new age proceeded from the mixing of blood by which clairvoyance was killed, and the new perception arose which is connected with the physical body. The beginning of the Gita points to something external, to something connected with man's bodily form. It is with these external changes of form that Sankhya philosophy is mostly concerned; in a sense it leaves in the background that which belongs to the soul, as we have pointed out. The souls in their multiplicity are simply behind the forms. In Sankhya philosophy we have found a kind of plurality; we have compared it with the Leibnitz philosophy of more modern times.

If we can think ourselves into the soul of a Sankhya philosopher, we can imagine his saying: “My soul expresses itself in the Sattva or in the Rajas or in the Tamas condition with respect to the forms of the external body.” But this philosopher studies the forms. These forms alter, and one of the most remarkable changes is that which expresses itself in the different use made of the etheric body, or through the transition as regards blood-relationship we have just described. We have then an external change of form. The soul itself is not in the least affected by that with which Sankhya philosophy concerns itself. The external changes of form are quite sufficient to enable us to consider what takes place in the transition from the old Sattva age to that of the new Rajas, on the borders of which stands Krishna. It is the external changes of form which come into consideration there.

Outer changes of form always come into consideration at the time of the change of the ages. But the changes of form took place in a different way during the transition from the Persian to the Egyptian epoch from what they did in that from the Egyptian to the Graeco-Latin; still an external change of form did take place. In yet another manner took place the transition from the Ancient Indian to the Persian, but there too there was an external change of form. Indeed it was simply a change of form which occurred when the passing-over from the old Atlantis itself into the Post-Atlantean ages took place. A change of form: and we could follow this by holding fast to the designations of the Sankhya philosophy, we can follow it simply by saying: The soul goes through its experiences within these forms, but the soul itself is not altered thereby, Purusha remains undisturbed. Thus we have a particular sort of transformation which can be described by Sankhya philosophy according to its own conceptions. But behind this transforming there is Purusha, the individual part of the soul of every man. The Sankhya philosophy only says of this that there is an individual soul-part which is related through the three Gunas-Sattva, Rajas and Tamas—with external form. But this soul-part is not itself affected by the external forms; Purusha is behind them all and we are directed to the soul itself; a continual indication of the soul itself is what meets us in the teaching of—Krishna, in what he as Lord of Yoga teaches. Yes, certainly I but the nature of this soul is not given us in the way of knowledge. Directions as to how to develop the soul is the highest we are shown; alteration of the external forms; no change in the soul itself, only an introductory note.

This first suggestion we discover in the following way if man is to rise through Yoga from the ordinary stages of the soul to the higher, he must free himself from external works, he must emancipate himself more and more from outer works, from what he does and perceives externally; he must become a “looker-on” at himself. His soul then assumes an inner freedom and raises itself triumphantly over what is external. That is the case with the ordinary man, but with one who is initiated and becomes clairvoyant the case does not remain thus; he is not confronted with external substance, for that in itself is maya. It only becomes a reality to him who makes use of his own inner instruments. What takes the place of substance? If we observe the old initiation we meet with the following: Whereas man in everyday life is confronted with substance, with Prakriti—the soul which through Yoga has developed itself by initiation, has to fight against the world of the Asuras, the world of the demoniacal. Substance is what offers resistance; the Asuras, the powers of darkness become enemies. But all that is as yet a mere suggestion, we perceive it as something peeping out of the soul, so to say; we begin to feel that which pertains to the soul. For the soul will only begin to realise itself as spiritual when it begins to fight the battle against the demons, the Asuras.

In our language we should describe this battle, which, however, we only meet with in miniature, as something which becomes perceptible in the form of spirits, when substance appears in spirituality. We thus perceive in miniature that which we know as the battle of the soul when it enters upon initiation, the battle with Ahriman. But when we look upon it as a battle of this kind, we are then in the innermost part of the soul, and what were formerly material spirits grow into something gigantic; the soul is then confronted with the mighty foe. Soul then stands up against Soul, the individual soul in universal space is confronted with the realm of Ahriman. It is the lowest stage of Ahriman's kingdom with which one fights in Yoga; but now when we look at this as the battle of the soul with the powers of Ahriman, with Ahriman's kingdom, he himself stands before us. Sankhya philosophy recognises this relationship of the soul to external substance, in which the latter has the upper hand, as the condition of Tamas. The initiate who has entered initiation by means of Yoga is not only in this Tamas state, but also in battle with certain demoniacal powers, into which substance transforms itself before his sight. In this same sense the soul, when it is in the condition not only of being confronted with the spiritual in substance, but with the purely spiritual, is face to face with Ahriman. According to Sankhya philosophy, spirit and matter are in balance in the Rajas condition, they sway to and fro, first matter is above, then spirit, at one time matter weighs down the scales, then spirit. If this condition is to lead to initiation, it must lead in the sense of the old Yoga to a direct overcoming of Rajas, and lead into Sattva. To us it does not yet lead into Sattva, but to the commencement of another battle-the battle with what is Luciferic.

And now the course of our considerations leads us to Purusha, which is only hinted at in Sankhya philosophy. Not only do we hint at it, we place it right in the midst of the field of the battle against Ahriman and Lucifer: one soul-nature wars against another. In Sankhya philosophy Purusha is seen in immense perspective; but if we enter more deeply into that which plays its part in the nature of the soul, not as yet distinguished between Ahriman and Lucifer; then in Sattva, Rajas and Tamas we only find the relation of the soul to material substance. But considering the matter in our own sense, we have the soul in its full activity, fighting and struggling between Ahriman and Lucifer.

That is something which, in its full greatness can only be considered through Christianity. According to the old Sankhya teaching Purusha remains still undisturbed: it describes the condition which arises when Purusha clothes itself in Prakriti. We enter the Christian age and in that which underlies esoteric Christianity and we penetrate into Purusha itself, and describe this by taking the trinity into consideration: the soul, the Ahrimanic, and the Luciferic. We now grasp the inner relationship of the soul itself in its struggles. That which had to come was to be found in the transition in the fourth epoch, that transition which is marked through the Mystery of Golgotha. For what took place then? That which occurred in the transition from the third to the fourth epoch was something which can be described as a mere change of form; but now it is something which can only be described by the transition from Prakriti into Purusha itself, which must be so characterised that we say: “We feel how completely Purusha has emancipated itself from Prakriti, we feel that in our innermost being.”

Man is not only torn away from the ties of blood, but also from Prakriti, from everything external, and must inwardly have done with it. Then comes the Christ-Impulse. That is, however, the greatest transition which could take place in the whole evolution of the earth. It is then no longer merely a question of what might be the conditions of the soul in relation to matter, in Sattva, Rajas and Tamas, for the soul no longer has merely to overcome Tamas and Rajas to raise itself above them in Yoga, but has to fight against Ahriman and Lucifer, for it is now left to itself. Hence the necessity to confront that which is presented to us in that mighty Poem—the Bhagavad Gita—that which was necessary for the old times-with that which is necessary for the new.

That sublime Song, the Bhagavad Gita, shows us this conflict. There we are shown the human soul. It dwells in its bodily part, in its sheaths. These sheaths can be described. They are that which is in a constant state of changing form. The soul in its ordinary life lives in a state of entanglement, in Prakriti, In Yoga it frees itself from that which envelopes it, it overcomes that in which it is enwrapped, and enters the spiritual sphere, when it is quite free from its coverings. Let us compare with this that which Christianity, the Mystery of Golgotha, first brought. It is not here sufficient that the soul should merely make itself free. For if the soul should free itself through Yoga, it would attain to the vision of Krishna. He would appear in all his might before it, but as he was before Ahriman and Lucifer obtained their full power. Therefore a kind divinity still conceals the fact that beside Krishna—who then becomes visible in the sublime way described in our last lecture—on his left and on his right there stand Ahriman and Lucifer. With the old clairvoyance that was still possible, because man had not yet descended into matter; but now it can no longer be the case. If the soul were now only to go through Yoga it would meet Ahriman and Lucifer and would have to enter into battle with them. It can only take its place beside Krishna when it has that ally Who fights Ahriman and Lucifer; Tamas and Rajas would not suffice. That ally, however, is Christ. Thus we see how that which is of a bodily nature freed itself from the body, or one might also say, that which is bodily darkened itself within the body, at the time when Krishna, the Hero, appeared. But, on the other hand, we see that which is still more stupendous; the soul abandoned to itself and face to face with something which is only visible in its own domain in the age in which the Mystery of Golgotha occurred.

I can well imagine, my dear friends, someone saying: “Well, what could be more wonderful than when the highest ideal of man, the perfection of mankind, is placed before our eyes in the form of Krishna!” There can be something higher—and that it is which must stand by our side and permeate us when we have to gain this humanity, not merely against Tamas and Rajas, but against the powers of the spirit. That is the Christ. So it is the want of capacity to see something greater still, if one is determined to see in Krishna the highest of all. The preponderating force of the Christ-Impulse as compared with the Krishna-Impulse is expressed in the fact that in the latter we have incarnated in the whole human nature of Krishna, the Being which was incarnated in him. Krishna was born, and grew up, as the son of Visudeva; but in his whole manhood was incorporated, incarnated, that highest human impulse which we recognise as Krishna. That other Impulse, which must stand by our side when we have to confront Lucifer and Ahriman (which confrontation is only now beginning, for all such things, for instance, as are represented in our Mystery Dramas, will be understood psychically by future generations), that other Impulse must be one for which mankind as such, is at first too small, an Impulse which cannot immediately dwell even in a body such as one which Zarathustra can inhabit, but can only dwell in it when that body itself has attained the height of its development, when it has reached its thirtieth year. Thus the Christ-Impulse does not fill a whole life, but only the ripest period of a human life. That is why the Christ-Impulse lived only for three years in the body of Jesus. The more exalted height of the Christ-Impulse is expressed in the fact that it could not live immediately in a human body, as did Krishna from his birth up. We shall have to speak further of the overwhelming greatness of the Christ-Impulse as compared with the Krishna. Impulse and how this is to be seen. But from what has already been characterised you can both see and feel that, as a matter of fact, the relation between the great Gita and the Epistles of St. Paul could be none other; that the whole presentation of the Gita being the ripe fruit of much, much earlier times, may therefore be complete in itself; while the Epistles of St. Paul, being the first seeds of a future-certainly more perfect, more all-embracing world-epoch, must necessarily be far more incomplete. Thus one who represents how the world runs its course must recognise, it is true, the great imperfections of the Pauline Epistles as compared with the Gita, the very, very significant imperfections—they must not be disguised—but he must also understand the reason those imperfections have to be there.