The Rudolf Steiner Archive

5. How Do We Understand Illness and Death?

[ 1 ] Today we are dealing with a topic that undoubtedly touches everyone, for the two words “illness and death” express something that enters every life—often like an uninvited guest, but frequently also as something tormenting, constricting, and terrifying. Indeed, death presents itself as the greatest mystery of existence, so that if someone has solved the question of the nature of death, then for that person the question of the nature of life is likely solved as well. One often hears people say: Death is a mystery; no one has solved it yet, and no one ever will. — The people who utter such words have no idea of the presumption contained in them; they have no idea that a solution to such enigmas does exist and that they simply do not understand it. Today, as we are dealing with a matter of such overarching importance, I ask you to pay very close attention to the fact that this can be nothing other than an answer to the question posed: How do we understand illness and death? We cannot, therefore, delve into specific questions about illnesses and health, but must essentially stick to the question: How do we gain an understanding of these two vital questions of our existence?

[ 2 ] The best-known answer to the question of the nature of death—one that held sway for centuries but has now lost its significance for the vast majority of educated people—is found in the words of Paul: “For the wages of sin is death.” As mentioned, for many centuries this statement served as a kind of solution to the riddle of death. Today, anyone who thinks in a modern sense will find such an answer completely incomprehensible, for the idea that sin—something entirely moral, something lying purely in the nature of human behavior—could be the cause of a physical fact such as death, or could be connected in any way to the nature of illness, is utterly incomprehensible to a thinker of our time.

[ 3 ] It may also be useful for us to point out that people today no longer even understand the wording of the sentence: “For the wages of sin is death.” For Paul and those who lived in his time did not at all understand “sin” to mean what is understood by it today in a philistine sense. Sin here does not refer to a transgression in the ordinary sense, nor even to a transgression of a radical nature; rather, sin is understood here as that which arises from self-interest and egoism. Everything that is driven by self-interest and egoism—in contrast to what arises from factual, objective impulses—is sin. Egoism, however—selfish action—presupposes that the human being has become independent and self-aware. One must recognize this when fully engaging with the way of thinking of a mind such as Paul’s.

[ 4 ] Anyone who does not remain on the surface of an understanding of the Old and New Testament documents, but truly penetrates their spirit, knows that a very specific—one might say natural-philosophical—way of thinking forms the undercurrent of this Old and New Testament way of thinking. This undercurrent is roughly as follows: Everything that exists in the world as a manifestation of life is directed toward a very specific goal. Lower beings are still neutral toward pleasure and suffering, joy and pain. We then see how life intensifies and becomes connected to something. Those who shudder at the mention of purposefulness should bear in mind that this is not a theory, but a pure fact: the entire realm of living beings, up to and including human beings, is moving toward a specific reality, which is manifested in the fact that, at the pinnacle of the living world, personal consciousness is possible.

[ 5 ] The initiate of the Old and New Testaments looked down into the animal kingdom and saw how everything strives toward the eventual emergence of a free personality capable of deriving the drives and impulses for action from within itself, and how the nature of such a personality is linked to what is called the possibility of an egoistic, self-serving act. Now, however, a thinker like Paul would say: If such a personality, capable of acting selfishly, dwells within a body, then that body must be mortal. An immortal body could never house a soul with independence, self-awareness, and consequently also with selfishness. Therefore, the following belong together: a mortal body, a soul with a sense of self, and the one-sided development of the personality toward impulses to act. This is what the Bible calls “sin,” and Paul defines it as follows: “The wages of sin is death.” Here, however, you can see that we must modify this, as we must every other statement in the Bible, because over the centuries they have been completely turned into their opposites. If we modify them—not by reinterpreting them, but by realizing that we must transform the current meaning given to them by theology back into their original meaning—we see that we were often dealing with a very profound understanding of the matter, one that is not so far removed from what we can comprehend again today. This is a necessary correction.

[ 6 ] But thinkers and researchers of worldviews throughout the ages have grappled with the mystery of death, and for millennia we have found this question answered in what seems to be the most diverse ways. We cannot engage here in a historical examination of such solutions; therefore, we will mention only two thinkers so that you may see how even thinkers quite close to our own time have nothing substantial to contribute to this question.

[ 7 ] One of them is Schopenhauer. You are all familiar with his pessimistic way of thinking, and anyone who has ever pondered the following sentence: “Life is a miserable affair, and I have resolved to spend mine reflecting on it”—will understand that Schopenhauer could hardly have arrived at any other conclusion than this: In truth, death offers solace for life, and life offers solace for death; life is a fatal affair, and one could not bear it if one did not know that death would bring it to an end; and if one fears death, then one need only realize that life is no better and that death brings nothing further to a close. This is his pessimistic way of thinking, which leads only once beyond the point where he has the Earth Spirit say: “You want new life to arise constantly; for that, I must have space.” Thus, in a certain sense, Schopenhauer sees in the fact that life reproduces itself—that it constantly gives birth to new life—the necessity that the old must die so that there may be room for the new. Otherwise, Schopenhauer has nothing of substance to offer; for everything else he says is encapsulated in these two words:

[ 8 ] The other is Eduard von Hartmann. Even in his last book, he dealt with the mystery of death. He says there: When we consider the highest living being, we find that, after one or two new generations have come of age, human beings no longer understand the world. Once a person has grown old, they can no longer comprehend youth; therefore, it is necessary for the old to die away and for the new to emerge again. — In any case, you see no answer to these questions that could bring us closer to a true understanding of the mystery of death.

[ 9 ] Let us now place within the context of today’s contemporary worldviews what the so-called spiritual science—which is also called anthroposophy today—has to say about the causes of death and illness. But let us be clear about one thing: spiritual science is not in the same position as the other sciences, in that it cannot speak about everything in a uniform manner. Today’s natural scientist would not understand that, when speaking of illness and death, one must distinguish between animals and humans; yet, precisely if one wishes to grasp the subject of today’s lecture, one must limit oneself to the phenomena observed in humans. Since beings do not merely share an abstract “sameness” with one another, but each also has its own essence and distinct character, only some of what is said today will apply to the animal world, and perhaps also to plants; essentially, however, the focus will be on human beings, and the other subjects will be drawn upon only when they serve to explain something.

[ 10 ] If we wish to understand death and illness in human beings, we must first and foremost recognize that, in the sense of spiritual science, the human being is an extremely complex being, and that we must understand the human being in terms of its essence through the following four aspects: First, we have the outwardly visible physical body; second, the etheric or life body; third, the astral body; and fourth, the human ego, or the center of the human being’s being. We must also be clear that the physical body contains the same forces and substances as the external physical world, that the etheric body is what brings these substances to life, and that human beings share their etheric body with the entire plant kingdom. The astral body, which human beings share with animals, is the bearer of the entire emotional life—of desires, pleasure and displeasure, joy and pain. The “I” belongs entirely to the human being alone; this makes him the crown of earthly creation.

[ 11 ] When we consider the human being as a physical organism, we must realize that within this physical organism the other three bodies function as formers and architects. The physical principle acts only partially on the human physical organism; in another part, the etheric body is essentially at work; in yet another, the astral body; and in yet another part of the human being, the “I” is active. From the perspective of spiritual science, the human being consists physically, first and foremost, of bones, muscles, and those organs that support the human being and make him a solid, earth-walking entity; these alone are counted, in the strictest sense of spiritual science, as the part of the organs brought about by the physical principle. Added to these are the actual sense organs; here we are dealing with physical apparatuses—the eye as a kind of camera obscura, the ear as a very complicated musical instrument. The crucial question now is what these organs are composed of. They are composed of the first principle. In contrast, all organs related to growth, reproduction, digestion, and other functions are not merely composed in accordance with the physical principle, but in accordance with the etheric or life body, which, after all, also permeates the physical organs. Only the structural organization is governed by the physical principle; the processes of digestion, reproduction, and growth, on the other hand, are governed by the etheric principle. The astral body is the creator of the entire nervous system, all the way up to the brain and the nerve tracts that lead to the brain in the form of sensory nerve tracts. Finally, the “I” is the architect of the blood circulation. Thus, when we consider a human organism in the true sense of spiritual science, we realize that these four members—even within the outwardly perceptible organism—actually merge within the human being as four entirely distinct entities and have been made to work together. These members that make up the human organism are of very different value, and we will understand their significance for the human being when we explore how human development is connected to these individual members.

[ 12 ] Today, let us discuss in more detail, from a physiological standpoint, what is referred to as the work of the physical principle in the human organism. This takes place during the period from birth until the change of teeth. Here, the physical principle acts upon the physical body in the same way that the forces and substances of the mother’s organism act upon the embryo before the child is born. From the age of seven until sexual maturity, the etheric principle is the main force acting upon the physical body, and from sexual maturity onward, the forces anchored within the astral body take over. Thus, we can correctly picture human development if we imagine that, until birth, the human being is enclosed within the mother’s body. At birth, the child, as it were, pushes the mother’s body away; its senses are set free, and it is now possible for the external world to begin to influence the human organism. At that point, the human being also sheds a covering, and one truly understands human development only when one realizes that, although not in the physical life, something similar takes place in the spiritual life during the period of tooth replacement. Around the age of seven, the human being is truly born a second time. For it is then that their etheric body is born into free activity, just as their physical body is at the time of birth. Just as the mother’s womb physically works on the human embryo in the time before birth, so do the spiritual forces of the world ether work on the human etheric body until the change of teeth, and around the age of seven they are pushed back just as the mother’s womb is at physical birth. Until the age of seven, the etheric body lies, as it were, latent within the physical body. The etheric body’s situation around the time of the change of teeth is like that of a lit match. It is bound within the physical body and now emerges to engage in its own free, independent activity. And the sign that heralds this free activity of the etheric body is precisely the change of teeth. For those who look more deeply into human nature, the change of teeth holds a very significant place. When we consider a human being up to the age of seven, the physical principle works freely within the physical body; but the etheric and astral principles remain bound and have not yet been born out of the spiritual sheaths.

[ 13 ] When we consider a human being up to the age of seven, we see that he possesses a whole set of hereditary characteristics that he has not built up through his own principle, but which he has inherited from his ancestors. These include what are called baby teeth. Only the teeth that emerge after the change of teeth are, in the child, the child’s own creation of the principle, which is physically predisposed to form a firm support. What is expressed in the teeth creates internally up until the change of teeth, and at the end of its activity it forms, as it were, the culmination and produces the hardest part of the supporting organ in the teeth, because it still retains the etheric or life body within itself as the vehicle of growth.

[ 14 ] Once this principle has been shed, the etheric body is set free and now works on the physical organs until sexual maturity; then a sheath—the outer astral sheath—is cast off, just as the maternal sheath is cast off at birth. Astrally, the human being is born for the third time at sexual maturity. And the active forces that were bound within the etheric body now bring their creative work in the human being to a conclusion by producing the capacity for sexual maturity and procreation, along with the corresponding organs. Just as the physical principle reaches its culmination in the seventh year through the teeth by creating the last hard organs—thereby freeing the etheric body, the principle of growth—so, at the moment it is set free, the astral principle creates the strongest concentration of instincts and desires, of the expression of life, insofar as we are dealing with physical nature. Just as the physical principle is concentrated in the teeth, so is the growth principle concentrated in sexual maturity. There, the astral body—the envelope of the “I”—is free, and the “I” now works on the astral body.

[ 15 ] The cultured European does not merely follow his instincts and desires; he has purified them and transformed them into moral sentiments and ethical ideals. If we now compare a primitive person with an average European—or even with a Schiller or Francis of Assisi—we can say that these individuals have reshaped and purified their instincts through the ego. Thus, we can say that this astral body always consists of two parts: one that stems from the original predisposition, and one that the ego itself has brought into being. We can understand the work of the “I” only when we realize that human beings are subject to reincarnation—repeated earthly lives—and that when a person is born, they bring with them, as it were, the fruits and results of previous earthly lives in four distinct bodies, which serve as a measure of the energy and strength of their life. One person is born because they have previously managed to transform their astral body with great life energy and strong forces. The other will soon grow weak in this regard. If one could clairvoyantly observe how the “I” begins to work freely on the astral body, mastering desires, drives, and passions from within the “I,” then—if one were able to specify the measure of energy that the “I” has brought with it—one could say: this measure is so great that the “I” will work on its own transformation for such-and-such a period of time and no longer. And after the time of sexual maturity, there is such a measure for every human being by which one can gauge and determine how long it will take for them to have worked everything out of their astral body according to the “pounds” allotted to them in this life. Whatever a person is able to transform and purify within their soul in terms of life forces sustains itself. As long as this measure suffices, the person lives at the expense of the self-sustaining astral body. Once it is exhausted—and the person can no longer find the courage to transform new impulses, or, in short, the energy to work on themselves—the thread of life snaps; and it must snap at some point, according to the measure allotted to each individual. Then the time has come when the astral body must draw its strength from the principle of human life closest to it—the etheric body. And now comes the time when the astral body lives at the expense of the energy stored in the etheric body; for human beings, this is manifested when their memory and their creative imagination gradually fade.

[ 16 ] We have often heard here that the etheric body is the bearer of productive imagination and memory—of what is called hope for life and courage to face life. These feelings, when they become a permanent part of it, cling to the etheric body. They are now drawn out by the astral body; and after the astral body has thus lived at the expense of the etheric body and drained it of everything it had to give, the time begins when the creative forces of the physical body are consumed by the astral body. And once these have been depleted, the life force of the physical body wanes, the body stiffens, and the pulse slows. Then, finally, the astral body also draws upon the physical body, robbing it of its strength. And once it has depleted that as well, there is no longer any possibility that the physical body can be sustained from the physical principle itself.

[ 17 ] If the astral body is to achieve freedom and be reborn into the life and work of the “I,” then it is necessary that, in the second half of life, once the measure of work has been exhausted, the liberated astral body itself consume its sheaths in the very same way they were formed. Thus, the individual life is created from the “I.”

[ 18 ] Consider the following analogy: Imagine a piece of wood that you set on fire. If it were not as it is, you would not be able to set it on fire. The flame springs forth from the wood, but at the same time it consumes it. This is the nature of the flame: it is set free from the wood and consumes its own source. Thus the astral body is born in threefold fashion; just as the flame consumes the wood, so it consumes its own foundation; and therein lies the possibility for individual life to exist, because it consumes its own foundation. Death is the root of life for it, and there could be no conscious individual life at all if death did not exist. We understand and comprehend death only by seeking to recognize its origin, and therefore we comprehend life by recognizing its relationship to death. In a similar way, we learn to comprehend the nature of illness, and this will make the nature of death even clearer to us. Every illness presents itself as a destroyer of life. What is illness?

[ 19 ] To understand human nature, we must consider human beings in relation to nature. Let us consider what happens when human beings, as living beings, stand in relation to the rest of nature. With every breath of air, every sound, every morsel of food, and every ray of light that a human being takes in, they enter into an interplay with the nature that surrounds them. If you examine the matter closely, you will come to realize—even without resorting to occultism—that the things outside are the true shapers and openers of the physical organs. When certain animals migrate into dark caves, their eyes gradually atrophy over time. Where there is no longer any light, there can no longer be light-sensitive eyes; conversely, light-sensitive eyes can form only where there is light. That is why Goethe says that the eye is formed by light for light. Naturally, the physical body is built up in accordance with what are called the true inner architects. Human beings are physical beings, and external things are the very material from which the whole human being is built in harmony with the inner formers. Then the relationship of individual forces and substances to the human being will present a completely different picture. Those who have possessed the profound insight of the true mystic in this regard will have much to tell us here. For Paracelsus, the entire external world is a human organism laid out like a fan, and the human being is like an extract of the entire external world. When we see a plant, we can say, in the spirit of Paracelsus: There is a lawful connection within this plant, and there is something in the human being that corresponds to the healthy or diseased organism of this plant. That is why Paracelsus, for example, calls a person suffering from cholera an “Arsenicus,” and arsenic is, for him, a remedy for cholera. Thus, there is a relationship between every organ of the human being and what exists in nature around them. One need only take an essence of nature and shape it in a human-like form, and one would have the human being. The individual letters are scattered throughout all of nature; if one brings them together, one has the human being. This gives you a sense of how the rest of nature acts upon the human being, and that the human being is called upon to compose his or her essence from the rest of nature. Everything within us has, in essence, been drawn into us from the external natural world and incorporated into the life process. If we understand this mystery of the vitalization of external forces and substances, then we will be able to comprehend the nature of a disease.

[ 20 ] We’ve reached a point where it’s difficult for today’s educated person to understand how many medical terms seem to function like a kind of fog. Just how suggestive it is today in gatherings when a naturopath utters the word “poison.” What is a poison, and what is an unnatural effect in the human organism? Whatever you introduce into the human organism acts according to the laws of nature. It is incomprehensible how one can speak of anything not acting according to the laws of nature within the body. And what is a poison? Water is a powerful poison if you drink ten buckets of it at once; and what is considered a poison today could have the most beneficial effects if administered to the body in the proper manner. It always depends on the quantity and the circumstances under which a substance is ingested. There is no such thing as a poison in and of itself.

[ 21 ] In Africa, there is a tribe that uses a certain breed of dog for hunting. However, there is a type of fly in that region that carries a specific toxin which kills the dogs when they are bitten by the flies. The indigenous people of the Zambezi River have found a remedy for this bite. Specifically, they lead the pregnant bitches into areas where there are large numbers of these tsetse flies and allow the bitches to be bitten by them. The indigenous people then manage the situation so that the bitches do not die until after they have given birth. And it turns out that the young dogs are now immune and can be used for hunting.

[ 22 ] Something has happened here that is so important for understanding life: A toxin has been incorporated into a life process at the very moment when a descending line transitions into an ascending line, so that the toxin becomes a substance that belongs to the organism. What we have taken in from the external natural world is precisely what makes us strong and protects us.,

[ 23 ] Spiritual science shows us that the entire human organism is structured in this way; if we may put it that way, it is made up entirely of substances that were originally poisons. As for the foods you enjoy today, we have gained the ability to eat them after immunizing ourselves against their harmful effects through a similar process in the evolutionary lineage. And the more of these substances we have incorporated into our bodies in this way, the stronger we become. We weaken ourselves against the external natural world by rejecting its substances.

[ 24 ] In regions where medicine is still based on the occult, the physician puts his entire being on the line. There are treatments in which, for example, the doctor ingests snake venom; his saliva then becomes a remedy against such snakebites. He introduces the venom into his own body, thereby making himself a carrier of healing powers; he becomes strong and, in turn, makes others strong against that particular venom.

[ 25 ] The most harmless aspect of the organism has come into being in this way. The organism needs to incorporate the external worlds and nature; but in doing so, there must also be the possibility that the process will swing over to the other side, like a pendulum. Whenever a person exposes themselves to such substances—and they are exposed to them at every moment—there is always the possibility that the substance’s effect will go too far and cause harm, depending on whether the living body is capable of absorbing it or not. As a result, the organism becomes resistant to the substance if it is strong enough at that moment to absorb it. There is no way to escape illness if one wants to be healthy. Every opportunity to strengthen oneself against external influences is based on the possibility of having an illness, of being sick. Thus, illness is the condition for health. This is a very real process. It is precisely the consequence and gift of illness that strength must be acquired by the human being. What survives the swing of the pendulum reaps the fruit of immunity from the illness—and even beyond death.

[ 26 ] Those who take this a step further will gain, precisely from this, a kind of understanding of the nature of illness and the nature of death. If we want strength and health, then we must accept their prerequisite—illness—as part of the bargain. If we want to be strong, then we must protect ourselves against weakness by embracing the weakness within ourselves and transforming it into strength. If we grasp this in a living way, it will make illness and death comprehensible to us. The spiritual science movement will bring these concepts to humanity. Today, this may still seem to many to be something that speaks only to the intellect. But once the intellect has fully grasped the matter, it will bring about a deep, harmonious state of mind in human beings; then it will become wisdom for living.

[ 27 ] Haven’t you heard yet that the anthroposophical truths, which are drawn from occultism, can even be dangerous? Don’t we have numerous opponents who claim that anthroposophy is a poison and harms people? Yes, anthroposophists and occultists themselves know that anthroposophy can also have harmful effects; but they also know that it must be absorbed and integrated in order to strengthen people, and that it is not merely something to be discussed, but something that then proves itself in life as a spiritual remedy.

[ 28 ] And spiritual science also knows that the physical is built up from the spiritual. When spiritual forces act upon the etheric body, they also have a healing effect in relation to the physical body. If our conceptions of the world and of life are healthy, then these healthy thoughts are the most powerful remedies; and only on weak natures—natures that have been weakened by materialism and naturalism—does what anthroposophy proclaims as truth have a sickening effect. They must internalize this in order to strengthen themselves. Only then has anthroposophy fulfilled its purpose when it produces strong people in life.

[ 29 ] Goethe so beautifully resolved our question about life and death: Everything in nature is life; nature invented death only to have abundant life. And so one could say: Nature also invented illness alongside death in order to produce robust health, and it was necessarily compelled to allow wisdom to have an apparently harmful effect so that this wisdom might have a strengthening and healing effect on humanity.

[ 30 ] It is precisely this that distinguishes the spiritual science movement from other movements: that it can be debated and discussed if one demands that it prove itself logically. Anthroposophy is not meant to be something that can merely be substantiated by logical arguments, but rather something that makes people healthy—both spiritually and physically. The more it demonstrates its effects out in the world by elevating life in such a way that the pain of life is transformed into the joy of life, the more living proof there will be of it. No matter how strongly people today may believe they can raise logical objections against it, spiritual science is something that, like an apparent poison, is transformed into a remedy and then has a life-affirming effect. And it will not reveal itself through logic—it cannot merely be proven—but will prove itself in life.