The Rudolf Steiner Archive

6. Asceticism and Illness

[ 1 ] Human life oscillates back and forth between work and idleness. The activity of life that is to be our focus in today’s lecture—and which is known as “asceticism”—is classified either as work or as idleness, depending on the life circumstances of one person or another, or of one group or another. An objective, impartial examination—as must be conducted in the spirit of spiritual science—is only possible if one considers how that which is termed “asceticism”—when understood in the highest sense of the word and stripped of all misuse—intervenes in human life, either by promoting or by harming it.

[ 2 ] First of all, it is true that most people—and quite justifiably so—currently have a rather mistaken idea of what the term “asceticism” is actually supposed to denote. According to the Greek origin of this word, one could just as easily describe an athlete as an ascetic. In our time, the word “asceticism” has taken on a very specific connotation due to the form that the corresponding way of life assumed during the Middle Ages; and for a number of people, the word has acquired the connotation that Schopenhauer, for example, gave it during the course of the 19th century. Today, in turn, the word is taking on a certain connotation through various influences of Eastern philosophy and Eastern religion—namely, through what is so often referred to in the West as “Buddhism.” Now, our task today will be to seek out the true origin of what asceticism is within human nature; and it is precisely spiritual science, as characterized in the lectures already given here, that is called upon to bring clarity to this field—precisely because its entire fundamental conception is connected with something that is also expressed in the Greek meaning of the word “askesis.”

[ 3 ] Spiritual science, spiritual research, as it has been advocated here for years, is based on a very specific foundation with regard to human nature. Spiritual science proceeds from the premise that at no stage of human development may one say: here or there lie the limits of human knowledge. The question: What can human beings know, and what cannot they know?—this question, which is widely regarded today as entirely legitimate, is posed entirely incorrectly from the perspective of spiritual science. Spiritual science does not ask: What can one know at a certain stage of human development? What are the limits of knowledge at such a stage of human development? What cannot one know at that stage? What remains unknown simply because the human power of cognition is insufficient? — None of these questions concern spiritual science as such at first. It stands firmly and securely on the ground of evolution, particularly the evolution of the human soul’s power. It states: the human soul is capable of evolution. Just as the future plant lies dormant within the plant seed and is brought forth by the forces within the seed and by those acting upon the seed from the outside, so too do hidden powers and abilities lie dormant within the human soul at all times. And what a person cannot yet recognize at a certain stage of development, he will be able to recognize once he has advanced a further distance in the development of his previously hidden spiritual abilities.

[ 4 ] What forces can we harness to gain an ever deeper understanding of the world and to broaden our horizons ever further? — That is the question of spiritual science. It does not ask, “Where are the limits of knowledge?” but rather, “How can human beings transcend these limits by developing their abilities?” — Thus, spiritual science does not surround the human horizon of knowledge with a wall; rather, in all its methods and ideals, it is dedicated to expanding this horizon of knowledge ever further, as we will see more and more clearly in the following lectures. — And not in vague generalities, but in a very specific way, spiritual science shows how human beings can transcend what has been given to them in terms of cognitive powers—so to speak, without their own intervention—through a development in which they themselves, with their consciousness, did not participate. For these powers of cognition are initially concerned only with the world given to the human senses—a world that is comprehensible through the intellect and to which these senses are bound. Through the powers slumbering within the soul, human beings are able to penetrate further into those worlds that are not initially accessible to the senses—worlds that the intellect, bound to the senses, cannot reach. And only to prevent the accusation from being raised from the outset that I am speaking in vague terms, I shall very briefly hint at some of what you can explore in great detail regarding the paths to attaining higher knowledge in my treatise: “How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?”

[ 5 ] When we speak of human beings going beyond the measure of cognitive abilities they have been given, it is essential that they not take steps into the unknown or the indefinite, but rather that they find their way from the solid ground on which they stand into a new world. How can this be?

[ 6 ] In the ordinary, everyday human life of today, people alternate between two states that we refer to as “waking” and “sleeping.” Without delving further into the characteristics of these two states today, we can say that they differ in terms of human cognitive capacity in that, while awake, a person receives stimulation for their senses and for their intellect, which is bound to the senses. It is through this stimulation that they develop their external cognition. While awake, they are thus entirely absorbed in the external sensory world. In sleep, the human being is removed from this external sensory world. A simple, entirely logical consideration could make it clear to anyone that it is not entirely nonsensical when spiritual science states that there is indeed an essential aspect of human nature that separates itself in sleep from what we otherwise call the physical human being. It has already been pointed out in the course of these lectures that, in the sense of spiritual science, that which can be seen with the eyes and grasped with the hands—the physical body—is only one of the members of the human being. As a second member of this human nature, we must then consider the so-called etheric or life body. The physical body and the etheric body remain in bed during sleep. From these components, we then distinguish what we call the consciousness body—or, if we do not take offense at the term, the astral body—the bearer of pleasure and suffering, joy and pain, of instinct, desire, and passion; and furthermore, the component through which the human being is the very crown of earthly creation: the “I.” These last two components of the human being separate from the physical body and the etheric body during sleep. A simple logical consideration, I said, can teach people that what spiritual research says is not entirely nonsensical, if only they stop to think about it: that what exists within a person as pleasure and suffering, joy and pain, and what constitutes the power of judgment in the “I,” cannot simply vanish into the night and does not have to be recreated anew every morning, but rather remains there. Consider this departure of the astral body and the “I,” if you will, as a mere image: but it cannot be denied that the “I” and the astral body withdraw from what we call the physical body and the etheric body.

[ 7 ] What is peculiar, however, is that it is precisely the innermost components of the human being—the astral body and the “I”—within which a person experiences what are called “soul experiences”—that sink into a kind of indeterminate darkness during sleep. This means nothing other than that this innermost part of the human being—of actual human life, as normal life is today—requires stimulation from the external world in order to become conscious of itself and the external world. Thus we can say that at the moment when, upon falling asleep, external stimulation ceases—and the force that keeps consciousness active from the outside also ceases—the human being is powerless to develop consciousness within themselves. If, in the normal course of their life, human beings could stimulate these inner aspects of their being, infuse them with such vitality, and innerly enliven them to such an extent that they could possess consciousness without the stimuli of the external world, without sensory impressions, and without the work of the intellect bound to the sensory world—then, through such consciousness and such abilities, a person would be able to perceive things other than what comes solely through sensory stimuli. As strange as it sounds—paradoxical, in fact: If a person could bring about a state that would be similar to sleep on the one hand, yet fundamentally different from sleep on the other, then he would be able to attain supersensory knowledge. This state would have to be similar to sleep in that, just as in sleep, a person receives no external stimuli—or at least pays no attention to them; it would have to differ from sleep in that a person does not sink into unconsciousness, but rather, despite the complete lack of stimulation from the external sensory world, develops a vibrant inner life.

[ 8 ] Now, as spiritual scientific experience shows, a person can attain such a state—a state that, if the term is not misused as it often is today, can be called a clairvoyant state. And here, briefly, is just one example of the numerous inner exercises through which a person can attain such a state.

[ 9 ] If a person is to live with certainty in this state, he must start from the external world. Now, the external world provides human beings with perceptions through their senses, which they then call “truth” when they succeed in ensuring that their perceptions correspond to external objects, to external reality. Through such “truth,” however, human beings cannot transcend the external sensory world. — The task now is to build a bridge between external sensory perception and that which is to be free from it and yet still offer truth. Among the first steps in the exercises to acquire such a mode of knowledge is what is called symbolic or allegorical imagination. Let us consider, by way of an example, a useful allegory—a symbol useful for spiritual development! Let us develop it in the form of a conversation that a teacher of spiritual science might have with a student.

[ 10 ] To help the student grasp a certain symbolic concept, the teacher might say something like this: Take a look at the plant—how it takes root in the soil, how it grows, sprouting green leaf after green leaf, and developing upward toward bloom and fruit. — I would like to point out that this has nothing to do with any scientific concepts; for we will see that the point is not the difference between a plant and a human being, but rather the acquisition of useful symbolic concepts. Now the teacher might say: Now consider the human being standing before you in life. This human being undoubtedly has many advantages over the plant. He can develop within himself impulses, desires, passions, and an imaginative life that leads him up the entire ladder from blind sensations and impulses to the highest moral ideals. If we compare human beings to plants, only a fanciful interpretation of natural science could attribute to the plant a similar content of consciousness to that of human beings. Instead, however, we see in the plant—one might say—certain advantages at a lower level compared to human beings. We see in the plant a certain certainty of growth without the possibility of straying. In contrast, we see in human beings at every moment the possibility that they may stray from what is their proper place in life. We see how human beings, in their very essence, are permeated by instincts, desires, and passions that can lead them into error, lies, and deception. The plant, on the other hand, is not permeated by any of this in its very essence; it is a pure, chaste being. Only when human beings purify their entire life of instincts and desires can they hope to become just as pure and chaste on a higher level as the plant is in its security and steadfastness on a lower level. — And so we can further form the following image: The plant is permeated by the green pigment, chlorophyll, which infuses the leaves with their green color. Human beings are permeated by the vehicle of their instincts and passions—their red blood. This is a kind of upward development. In return, however, human beings have had to accept, at the same time, qualities that are not yet present in the plant. Now, one might say, human beings must hold before their eyes the lofty ideal toward which they are striving—to one day reach a corresponding level and attain that inner security, that self-mastery, and that purity which are presented to them as a model in the plant at a lower level. And now we might ask ourselves: What must human beings do if they are to ascend to such a level?

[ 11 ] To do this, he must become the master and ruler of those drives, desires, and passions that otherwise rage within him without his will. He must rise above himself; he must slay within himself that which otherwise dominates him, and elevate to a higher level that which is dominated by the lower. — This is how human beings have evolved from the plant kingdom. What has come to them since their plant stage, they must regard, so to speak, as something to be overcome—or, to use the expression, something to be put to death—in order to bring forth a higher life from it. This is the process of human development into the future, which Goethe describes with the beautiful phrase:

And as long as you don’t have that,
This: Die and Be Reborn!
You are but a gloomy guest
On this dark earth.

[ 12 ] The goal is not for a person to suppress his instincts, desires, and passions, but rather to purify and refine them by subduing the ruler within himself. Thus, looking at a plant, a person can say: There is something within me that is higher than the plant, but it is precisely this that must be subdued and overcome within me.

[ 13 ] To illustrate what must be overcome, let us take that part of the plant which is no longer viable, which has died—the withered wood. And we first present the withered wood in the form of the cross as part of our symbol. But then the human being must set about purifying and refining the bearer of his drives, desires, and passions—his red blood—so that it becomes a chaste, purified expression of his higher being, of what Schiller calls the “higher human” within man; so that this blood becomes, as it were, a reflection of the pure, chaste sap that flows through the plant’s substance.

[ 14 ] And there we look—as the teacher would go on to say to the student—at that blossom where this plant sap, continually rising from stage to stage through the leaves, ultimately takes on the color of the blossom in the red rose. Now imagine the red rose as something that can serve as a model for your purified and refined blood: the sap pulses through the red rose in such a way that it is free of instincts and desires; your instincts and desires, however, should be the expression of your pure “I”-essence. — Thus, the wood of the cross, which signifies that which must be overcome, is complemented by a wreath of red roses attached to it. Here we have an image, a symbol, that gives us—not merely through our dry intellect, but by appealing to all our feelings—a picture of human life as it ascends toward a higher ideal.

[ 15 ] Now someone might come along and say: Your idea is a figment of the imagination that has no basis in truth. That image you’re conjuring up—that black cross with the red roses—is nothing but a figment of your imagination! — Certainly, there should be no doubt whatsoever that this image—as it appears in the mind of the one who wishes to ascend into the spiritual worlds—is a figment of the imagination. It must be a figment of the imagination! For this image is not meant to represent, in the manner of sensory perception, something that exists externally. If it did that, we would have no need for it; then we would simply have to surrender ourselves to all the impressions that come to us from the outside, for which we need only create the corresponding images. But in this way, we create an image for which we have indeed taken the elements from the external world, but which we have assembled according to certain feelings and ideas from within ourselves. We must, however, be conscious at every step that we do not lose track of our inner processes in what we are doing; for otherwise we would soon slip into fantasy. Whoever wishes to ascend to the higher worlds through inner contemplation, meditation, and so on does not merely live in abstract images, but lives in the world of feelings and ideas that has arisen within them as they construct such images. These images awaken within them a whole range of inner soul processes, and, shutting out everything that comes from the outside, those who wish to enter the higher worlds devote all their energies to contemplating these images. Such images are not meant to depict external conditions, but rather to awaken the powers slumbering within the human being. For the person will notice—if they have patience and perseverance (it takes a long time, but it does happen)—that quiet devotion to such images can give them something that is meant to develop. They will see that their inner being is transformed, that a state does indeed arise which, on the one hand, can be compared to sleep. But whereas falling asleep generally causes all images and all soul life to sink away, through the devotion described—through meditation, through such images—inner forces are awakened. The person will very soon feel that a transformation is taking place within them, that they thereby possess an inner life, even if they initially forgo impressions from the external world. In this way, the person awakens inner forces through such thoroughly unreal symbols, and will then already realize that they can make use of these awakened forces.

[ 16 ] Certainly, an objection may be raised from another perspective: Yes, but if a person has developed such powers and has truly entered the spiritual world, as he believes, how can he then know that what he perceives there is real? — This can only be proven through experience, just as the external world can only be proven through experience. Mere ideas differ from perceptions in the most fundamental way. Only those who do not get to the bottom of things in this regard can confuse mere ideas with perception. Indeed, a certain misunderstanding has taken hold today, particularly in philosophically inclined circles. Schopenhauer’s philosophy, for example, assumes in its first part that the human world consists of ideas. You can grasp the difference between perception and idea by looking at your watch. As long as you are in contact with your watch, it is your perception; if you turn away, you have an image of the watch within you—that is your idea. In practical life, you will very soon learn to distinguish between perception and representation; and anyone who could not do so would go astray. The other example has also already been cited: If you imagine a piece of iron, no matter how hot, it does not burn; but if you grasp a piece of hot iron, you will immediately realize that perception is something different from representation. The same applies to that example given in Kantian philosophy, which, while justified in a certain respect, has only led to errors in the last century. Kant attempts to undermine a certain conception of God by showing that, in terms of content, there is no difference at all between a hundred imagined talers and a hundred real talers. But one must not rely at all on the fact that there is no difference in content; for then one easily confuses perception and direct contact with reality with what is merely the content of the imagination. Anyone who has to pay a debt of one hundred talers will certainly notice the difference between one hundred real talers and one hundred imagined talers.

[ 17 ] The same is true of the spiritual world. When the powers and abilities lying dormant within a person emerge from within, and a world surrounds him that he did not know before—a world that seems to shine forth from a dark spiritual depth—then someone who is merely a layperson in this field might say: “This may be self-suggestion; it may be some kind of delusion.” — But anyone who has had experiences in this realm will surely be able to distinguish between what is reality and what is mere delusion—just as one can distinguish in the physical realm between an imagined piece of hot steel and a real one.

[ 18 ] So we see that there is a way to induce a different state of consciousness. I have briefly illustrated this with an example of how inner exercises can awaken the dormant abilities within the soul. While a person practices in this way and awakens these dormant abilities, they naturally see nothing of the spiritual world; they are too busy awakening their abilities. Under certain circumstances, this process may take not only years, but an entire lifetime. But all these efforts ultimately lead to the person learning to apply these “dormant powers of cognition” within them to the spiritual world, just as they have learned to use their eyes—under the influence of unknown spiritual forces—to observe the outer, visible world. Such work on one’s own soul—such development of the soul toward a world one has not yet entered, a world one is to perceive precisely through the developed faculties that are to unfold within one through what one brings to bear upon it—such work on one’s own soul can be called asceticism in the true sense of the word. For “asceticism” in Greek means “to practice”—to make oneself capable of something, to put dormant powers into action. That is the original meaning of the word “asceticism,” and it can also be its meaning today, provided one does not wish to cloud one’s vision or perpetuate errors through a misapplication of the term “asceticism,” which has become commonplace over the centuries. However, one can only grasp the meaning of asceticism, as we have just characterized it, if one takes into account that human beings seek to open up a new world for themselves through the development of such abilities. And one understands it best if, now that we have applied the word “asceticism” solely to the spiritual world, we apply it for a moment to certain external activities of life.

[ 19 ] If the word “asceticism” is applied in this way to the development of spiritual abilities, then we can also apply it in life when certain abilities and powers are developed that are not yet directly applied to their proper purpose; rather, they are first drawn out of some being or from something else, only to be applied later to that to which they actually belong. As strange as it may seem, there is nevertheless an obvious example of how the word “asceticism” can be used in its true sense; and we will then also see why the word “asceticism,” when misapplied, can have a pernicious effect. If we apply the word “asceticism” in the correct sense to external life, we can, for example, call warfare during a military exercise a form of “asceticism.” This is entirely correct in Greek usage. The way in which forces are deployed there—to test them so that they will be ready in a real war when needed, and to see whether they can be applied in the proper measure—that is asceticism; that is training. As long as one does not apply forces to an immediate object to which they pertain, but rather to test their effectiveness and nature beforehand, one is practicing asceticism; thus, waging war on the maneuvering field relates to actual warfare just as asceticism relates to life in general.

[ 20 ] Human life, as I said at the beginning, oscillates back and forth between work and idleness. But there are many things in between. For example, there is play. Wherever play presents itself to us as play, it is actually the opposite of what one might call asceticism. Its opposite makes it very clear what the essence of asceticism is. Play is the exertion of forces upon the external world for immediate gratification. This gratification itself—that which is played with—is not, so to speak, the hard ground, the hard foundation of the external world where we apply our labor. What is played with is therefore, in relation to our forces, a soft, malleable material that yields to our forces. Play remains play only as long as we do not encounter the resistance of external forces, as we do in work. In play, then, we are dealing with that which relates directly to the forces being exerted, and the satisfaction of play lies in the very exercise of these forces. Play prepares us for nothing else; it finds its satisfaction within itself. Exactly the opposite is true of what must be understood, in the proper sense, as asceticism. There is no satisfaction derived from any external world. What we combine in asceticism—even when we assemble the cross with the red roses—is something that is not significant in and of itself, but rather something brought about as a living interplay of our forces, something that takes place within us and is only to find its application once it has been completed within us. Renunciation, then, refers to the fact that we undertake inner work with the awareness of not allowing ourselves to be stimulated by the external world at first—that we work on ourselves to bring our powers into play so that they can be active in the external world. Thus, play and asceticism stand in opposition to one another like two opposites.

[ 21 ] How, then, does what we might call “asceticism” in our sense become part of human life?

[ 22 ] Let us remain within the realm where asceticism is applied in both its positive and negative aspects: in the apprehension of the supersensible worlds, when a person sets the goal of ascending into the spiritual worlds. Here we can say: when a person encounters a supersensible world through some means—for example, through the accounts of another person or through historical records—it is initially possible for the person to say: There are claims and accounts concerning the supersensible worlds; such accounts are not immediately comprehensible to me. I lack the strength to comprehend them.” — Then again, there are people who do not say, “I want to take in what is being offered to me in these communications,” but rather say: “I reject these communications; I want to have nothing to do with them!” — Where does this come from? It stems, first of all, from the fact that such a person, in the best sense of the word, rejects asceticism; and this is because they do not feel the strength within their soul to develop higher powers from within themselves through the means that have been described. They feel too weak for this.

[ 23 ] It has been emphasized time and again that it is not even necessary to possess clairvoyance oneself in order to understand the findings of spiritual research when they are communicated by a clairvoyant person. While clairvoyance is indeed necessary for investigating spiritual facts, once the facts have been established, anyone can understand what the spiritual researcher communicates through their unbiased reason. An open mind and sound reason are, first and foremost, the best tools for evaluating what is communicated from the spiritual worlds. Anyone grounded in spiritual research will always be able to say: If they were to fear anything at all, it would be those who accept such communications without carefully examining them with their intellect; but not those who apply their reason, which is not swayed by anything. It is the use of reason that makes everything that emerges from spiritual research understandable.

[ 24 ] It may be, however, that a person feels too weak to draw upon the inner strength necessary to understand the messages from the spiritual world. If that is the case, he rejects them out of an instinct for self-preservation that is appropriate to his own nature. He would become confused if he were to accept these messages. They sense this. And fundamentally, for all those who reject the things explored through spiritual research, it is the instinct for self-preservation that rejects these things: a consciousness that is incapable of applying exercises—that is, asceticism in the best sense of the word—to itself. Such an instinct for self-preservation says to itself: If these things were to come to me, they would confuse me; if they were to enter my mind, they would fill it; I would not know what to do with them; therefore, I reject them! Such is the materialistic consciousness that refuses to go a single step beyond what science—supposedly grounded in facts—has to offer.

[ 25 ] However, something else may also be the case. And this brings us to a dangerous aspect of asceticism. There may be a certain eagerness to receive messages from the spiritual worlds, rather than an inner urge and a sense of obligation to examine those messages with reason and logic. There may be a kind of inner thirst for sensation when it comes to messages from the spiritual world. Then one allows them to enter within oneself. Then it is not what has just been described as the human instinct for self-preservation that is at work, but rather its opposite: a kind of instinct for self-destruction is indeed at work. For what a person allows into their soul without understanding—and against which they are unwilling to apply their reason—will overwhelm them. This includes all blind faith, everything accepted on mere authority regarding messages from the spiritual worlds, from the invisible worlds. And this acceptance on the basis of authority corresponds to an asceticism that does not spring from a healthy instinct for self-preservation, but from a pathological instinct for self-destruction—to drown in the flood of received revelations. This has a significant dark side for the human soul. It is asceticism in the worst sense when a person says: “I want nothing more; I want to renounce everything; I want to believe and live in trust!” This attitude has, after all, been cultivated in many ways throughout various eras. But one must not cite everything that appears to be blind faith. For example, when it is said that in the ancient Greek mystery schools of Pythagoras, a common saying was: “The Master has said it!” this never means: “The Master said it, so we believe it!” — rather, for his students it means something like this: “The Master said it; therefore, it is a call for us to reflect on it; we will see how far we can go with it if we put our powers to work!” “Belief” does not always have to be blind faith or stem from a self-destructive impulse. Anyone who, out of trust in another person, receives messages from spiritual research need not do so out of blind faith; they may, for example, have realized that the person saying such things takes them seriously, that they present the messages in precise, logical forms, and that in other areas—where the believer is in a position to verify them—they are logical and do not spout nonsense. Therefore, precisely by observing those things that he can follow, the student can have a well-founded belief that the person in question, even when speaking about matters still unknown to the believer, stands on equally solid ground. Hence, the believer can say: I will work! What is told to me—and in which I have confidence—can serve as a guiding star to help me climb toward those abilities that will become accessible to me as I work my way up to them.

[ 26 ] But if this sound foundation of trust is lacking, if a person chooses to forgo understanding, if they allow themselves to be influenced by messages from the invisible worlds without seeking to understand them, then this gradually develops into a rather harmful trait in that person. This is an evil that can hardly be called asceticism. Whoever simply accepts something out of blind trust, without the will to understand it step by step—that is, without penetrating it—whoever, in other words, blindly incorporates another’s will into their own, gradually loses those healthy soul forces that form a secure center of our inner life and provide the framework for all our sense of the rightness of life. Deception and a tendency toward error take hold in those who refuse to examine their inner selves, who refuse to let reason prevail, but who have a veritable tendency to drown in what is communicated to them—to sink, to vanish along with their own self. Those who refuse to let their healthy sense of truth prevail will soon see how lies and a tendency toward deception will cling to them even in the real world. This is something to consider very seriously when approaching the spiritual world: that through this sin of omission, one can easily succumb to a life that no longer has a true sense of what truth and rightness in life are. Anyone who takes the practice seriously, anyone who is willing to exert their efforts, must not fail to bring such insight—as has just been expressed—before their soul.

[ 27 ] Now, however, we can delve even deeper into what we might call, in a deeper sense, the ascetic cultivation of the soul’s powers. So far, we have considered human beings only insofar as they are incapable of truly developing inner powers in a healthy way. In one case, they refuse to develop such powers out of a healthy instinct for self-preservation, because they do not want to develop them; in another case, they do not refuse to develop such powers within themselves, but they refuse to develop reason and judgment. Here we are always dealing with the human tendency to remain at the stage where they currently stand. But let us consider the other case: a person sets out to truly develop his inner abilities; he applies to his own soul the kinds of exercises that have been described. Here, too, a twofold situation can arise. First, what is being vigorously pursued within our spiritual-scientific world movement—where it is taken seriously and with dignity—can come to pass. A person can, so to speak, be guided toward the development of inner spiritual powers only to the extent that they become capable of doing something with these spiritual powers—and indeed, of doing something proper and orderly. This means that, on the one hand, we can speak of—as is further elaborated in my treatise *How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?*—how a person must train themselves, how they must work on themselves in order to acquire the abilities to look into the spiritual world. And at the same time, there must be an opportunity to train these powers using what spiritual researchers throughout the ages have identified as spiritual facts, and to establish a proper balance between the powers one develops within and what one is meant to comprehend from the external world. If a person fails to truly apply the powers they develop within themselves to understanding the external world; if they have an almost uncontrollable desire to develop a great deal of inner spiritual power, to set all manner of things in motion within the soul so that it may develop spiritual eyes and spiritual ears, and is too complacent to engage quietly and methodically with the existing findings of spiritual research through steady, rational work, then it may be that something quite serious arises as a result of their asceticism. It may be that a person develops all sorts of powers and abilities within themselves, but does not know what to do with them and has no way of applying these powers in the outer world. This is the outcome of many forms of training, particularly those that develop powers of cognition without the possibility of applying them, as well as training programs that do not vigorously aim to practice asceticism—initially through spiritual means, as they have been characterized—so that the individual may become stronger and ever stronger through their exercises.

[ 28 ] There are also methods that aim to take a different path—one that could be described as more comfortable, but which can easily lead to mischief. This path involves removing the obstacles that initially prevent the soul from experiencing the impressions of the physical world, thereby enabling it to attain an inner life. Removing these obstacles was also the sole aim of what was called “asceticism” in the Middle Ages, and which still exists to some extent in more recent times. Instead of practicing that true asceticism which aims to give the soul an ever richer content, a false form of asceticism assumes that one should leave the soul as it is and, in its place, weaken the body, reducing the effectiveness of its physical powers. There are, in fact, methods for weakening the body so that its functions are no longer as strong and vigorous as in ordinary life, but instead grow weaker and weaker. Through this, the soul—which has remained weak—can gain a kind of upper hand over the bodily functions that have become weak. While in true asceticism the body is to remain as it is and the soul is to triumph over the body, in another form of asceticism the soul is left as it is, and instead, through all manner of practices—fasting, mortification, and so on—the body is, so to speak, weakened from within, so that the soul then becomes stronger and can attain a kind of consciousness, even though it has not at all increased its own powers. This was the mindset of many medieval ascetics; they stifled the body’s strength, diminished its functions, left the soul as it was, and placed themselves in a state of expectation, believing that this would bring them—from outside, without any effort on their part—the very essence of the spiritual world. This is the easier method; yet it is the method that does not truly make a person stronger. The true method demands that a person refine and purify their thinking, feeling, and willing—that they actually strengthen their thinking, feeling, and willing so that they become more powerful and triumph over the physical. The other method weakens the body, and then the soul, without acquiring any new abilities, is supposed to wait until the God-filled world flows into it.

[ 29 ] This state of mind—which you can find referred to as “asceticism” in some medieval teachings—leads to detachment from the world and to a sense of distance from it, and it must lead to this. For in the current state of humanity’s development, there is a certain relationship between the powers of perception within us and what lies outside. If we wish to transcend humanity’s present condition, we can do so only by elevating the powers within us and then, with these elevated powers, grasping the external world all the more deeply and meaningfully. But if we diminish our normal human powers, we render ourselves incapable of maintaining a normal relationship with the external world; if we strive to diminish our thinking, feeling, and willing in particular, and then place our soul in a state of anticipation, something flows into that soul that has no connection to our present-day world—something that turns us into an eccentric, into a person who is useless for real work in our world. While genuine, true asceticism leads to a person who becomes more and more useful to the world—because they look ever more deeply into it—the other kind of asceticism, which is linked to the suppression of bodily functions, leads to withdrawing the person from the world, turning them into a recluse, a hermit, in every respect. Then, from his solitary vantage point, on his lonely island of the soul, he may perceive all manner of spiritual and mental things—this should not be denied—but such asceticism is of no use to the world. Asceticism is work, training for the world, and not a withdrawal into worlds far removed from it.

[ 30 ] This is not to say, however, that one must go to extremes. One can meet the other side halfway. Although it is generally true that in today’s human cycle there is a certain normal balance between the external world and the forces of our soul, it must nevertheless be said, on the other hand, that every age, so to speak, drives the normal to extremes, and that those who wish to develop abilities higher than the normal ones need not take into account the resistance arising from abnormal currents of the times. And because these resistances are present within him, he may, under certain circumstances, go a little further than he would otherwise have to, were it not for the fact that the times themselves are also at fault. This must be said because you may have heard that some members of the current spiritual scientific movement place great value on a certain diet. This by no means implies that anything—whether the attainment of, or even merely the understanding of, higher worldly and life conditions—is to be achieved through such a way of life alone. It can only be an external aid and must be understood solely in the sense that those who wish to gain an understanding of the spiritual worlds may encounter a certain resistance in what they have become accustomed to: the customs and traditions of the outer world. And because these customs and traditions have led him too deeply into the purely material world, he must—in order to make the exercises easier for himself—go beyond what is normal for most people. But if they were to count this as part of their ascetic practice—as one of the means leading up into the spiritual world—they would be completely mistaken. For vegetarianism cannot lead anyone into the higher worlds; it can only serve as a support, to be understood in this way: I wish to open up certain kinds of understanding for myself regarding the spiritual worlds; but I face an obstacle in my dense physicality, and it is so strong that the exercises do not take effect in the proper way right away; so I support myself by providing my physicality with a certain relief. One such relief is, for example, vegetarianism, which is by no means established as a dogma, but only as something that can make it easier for a person to understand the spiritual worlds. However, no one should believe that they could develop spiritual powers simply through a vegetarian lifestyle. For the soul remains as it is; only the body becomes weaker. But if the soul has become stronger on the one hand, it will, on the other hand—through the effect of vegetarianism on the person—be able to strengthen the weaker body in a corresponding way from the center of the soul’s powers, so that a person who develops spiritually through vegetarianism can become stronger, more capable, and more resilient in life—and can not only hold his own against any meat-eater but even surpass him in performance. But this stems precisely from the fact that what many believe—when they say of those who are part of a spiritual movement and are vegetarians: “What poor fellows they are, who don’t even have that little bit of meat to enjoy!”—does not actually happen.

[ 31 ] As long as a person harbors this attitude, vegetarianism would not benefit them in the least. As long as a person has a craving and addiction to meat, vegetarianism is of no use to them at all; rather, it is only when they have reached the following point of view—which I will illustrate with a short story—that it becomes beneficial.

[ 32 ] Some time ago, someone was asked: “Why don’t you eat meat, anyway?” He replied: “Let me bother you with a counter-question: Why don’t you eat dog meat or cat meat?” — “You can’t eat that!” — was the answer. — Why not? Well, because it disgusts me! — Well, that’s exactly how I feel about all meat!

[ 33 ] This is the state of mind in question. Only when the enjoyment of meat has ceased does the state of mind arise in which abstaining from meat serves any purpose in relation to the spiritual worlds. Before that, giving up meat can only be a means of breaking the craving for it. But if one cannot break the craving, then it is perhaps better to start eating meat again; for constantly tormenting oneself in this way is by no means the right path to gaining an understanding of spiritual science.

[ 34 ] From all this, you can see what can be called true and false asceticism. However, those who are merely driven by the desire to develop their inner spiritual powers and abilities are easily led into false asceticism, for they will be quite indifferent to truly understanding the external world. After all, they initially want only to develop these spiritual faculties and then wait to see what happens. The best way to do this, they believe, is to torment their bodies as much as possible; then the body becomes weak, allowing the soul to remain weak and thus glimpse into some spiritual world—even if that world is utterly useless for comprehending a true spiritual realm. But this is the path to delusion; for the moment a person blocks the way back to the physical world, no true spiritual world appears before them, but only the illusions of their own self. And these illusions must confront him precisely because he leaves the soul as it is. Because he allows his ego to remain at the level it is at, it does not develop into higher powers, and the human being cuts himself off from the world by suppressing the functions through which he relates to it. Through his asceticism, he not only becomes unworldly but also cultivates what might be called the following: he sees images that his own soul, at the stage he has reached, can make him believe in; he sees an image clouded by his own self in place of a true spiritual world. And the second consequence is the one that confronts us in the moral realm: whoever believes that they are leading a true life precisely through humility and devotion to the spiritual world fails to see that they are spinning themselves into their own self with all their might, becoming an egoist in the worst sense of the word, and refusing to develop toward anything other than where they already stand. This egoism, which can degenerate into wild ambition and wild vanity, is so dangerous because the person afflicted by it can never see it in themselves. They usually consider themselves a person who sinks to the feet of their God in the deepest humility, while the devil of megalomania plays within them. He rejects what he is meant to develop through humility; for he would be humble precisely by telling himself: The forces of the spiritual world are not where I stand; rather, they must first be developed; I must ascend; I must not rest on the forces I already possess.

[ 35 ] Thus we see how precisely this kind of asceticism—which initially aims at the suppression of the external rather than the strengthening of the internal—can lead to delusion, error, vanity, and selfishness; indeed, to all manner of underlying forms of madness. In particular, it would be a great evil in our present age if someone were to seek to ascend into the spiritual world not by elevating the powers of the soul, but by mortifying the external. In doing so, they merely entangle themselves in their own self. Therefore, even for people today, the model for asceticism cannot be drawn from those who, in their time, perhaps sought access to a spiritual world from a lonely island of the soul; rather, today’s ideal of true asceticism can only be found in contemporary, modern spiritual science, which stands firmly on the ground of reality; through which human beings develop their powers and abilities, through which they ascend to an understanding of a spiritual world that is nonetheless a world of reality—not a world into which human beings withdraw.

[ 36 ] However, there are other downsides to such one-sided asceticism. If you observe the natural world around you, you will find that, the higher we go from the plant kingdom to the animal kingdom and the human kingdom, the more the conditions of life gradually take on a completely different character. If you examine what might be called “plant diseases,” you will see that these plant diseases have a completely different nature than what we call diseases in animals or, even more so, in humans. For plant diseases are caused solely by external factors—by abnormal conditions of wind and weather, light, and sunshine. These external conditions can make plants sick. Now, if you turn your attention to animals, you will see that even animals, when left to their own devices, possess a far greater reserve of health in their internal constitution than humans do. Humans are not only capable of making themselves sick through the life into which they are placed—through the conditions they encounter from the outside—but also through everything that flows into their inner being or pours out from there. This is connected, on the one hand, to the fact that if the soul is not properly attuned to the physical body—if what stems from earlier incarnations as a spiritual predisposition cannot fully adapt, in its inner nature, to the outer physicality—internal causes of illness arise as a result, causes that are often misjudged. Here we see how internal illnesses can arise as symptoms of a lack of proper harmony between body and soul. We can often observe that people in whom such symptoms arise—indicating that the bodies do not fit together properly—tend to strive to ascend into the higher worlds by attempting to kill off the physical, because their state of illness has already led them to separate their soul from the physical body, which is not fully permeated by the soul. In such people, we then observe that the body hardens within itself in various ways, that it takes on a form of its own; and since they have not strengthened their souls, but have instead used their weakness to free themselves from the impressions of physicality—thereby depriving the body of its healing, strengthening, and invigorating capacities—the body can then become susceptible to all manner of illnesses. While healthy asceticism will develop the soul’s fortitude and strength, so that the soul in turn acts back upon the body and makes it strong against any external influence of disease, false asceticism will make a person vulnerable to every external influence of disease.

[ 37 ] This is the dangerous connection between any form of false asceticism and the illnesses prevalent in our time. And this is also what can give rise to all sorts of misconceptions in wider circles—where people are prone to misunderstandings about such matters—regarding what a spiritual-scientific worldview can offer humanity. For surely those who seek to attain a view of the spiritual world through false asceticism will present a deterrent image to outsiders; for through their false asceticism, they will provide a wide opening for the harmful influences of the external world; they will not be strengthened and fortified against the errors of our time, but will be all the more exposed to them.

[ 38 ] We may also encounter this in certain theosophical spiritual movements of our time. Just because something calls itself “theosophy” does not mean it has a free pass to stand up to some of the opposing currents of our time as a spiritual movement. If materialism prevails in the outer world, it is, to some extent, appropriate to what comes from the outside—to the concepts one must form in the sensory world based on what the sensory gaze is directed toward. Therefore, one can say that the materialism of the outer world, which knows nothing of a spiritual world, is, in a certain sense, justified. But when a worldview emerges that seeks to convey something about the spiritual world, and which—because it is not based on a genuine strengthening of the spiritual powers—incorporates within itself the materialistic prejudices of the age in their caricatured forms, then this is all the worse. Therefore, such a theosophical worldview, into which the errors of the age have crept, may under certain circumstances be far more harmful than a materialistic one, and it should certainly be pointed out that truly materialistic ideas have, to a very great extent, penetrated precisely the theosophical worldview. People then speak of the spiritual not as the Spirit, but as if the Spirit were merely an infinitely refined, nebulous form of matter. When speaking of the etheric body, one imagines only the physical refined beyond a certain degree and then speaks of etheric “vibrations.” In the astral realm, these vibrations are even finer; in the mental realm, they are finer still, and so on. Everywhere there are “vibrations,” everywhere “oscillations.” One never actually enters a true spiritual world with one’s conceptions, but remains stuck with conceptions that are meant to refer to a material world. One then experiences how, in truth, people delude themselves with a materialistic haze regarding the most ordinary phenomena of life. For example, if you are somewhere where you can sense that a good atmosphere prevails—where people’s souls resonate together—and someone who feels this says, for instance, that there is a harmonious atmosphere in this circle of people, that may be expressed in everyday terms, but it is correct and leads to a truer understanding than if, in a gathering of Theosophists, someone were to say: “Oh, there are subtle vibrations here!” — After all, one would first have to be a theosophical materialist and imagine matter in a crude, clunky way to be able to speak of such things. And for those who have a feel for it, the mood is then ruined; the whole experience becomes clouded when those involved start bandying about their “vibrations.” Here we see how, in this field, the intrusion of materialistic ideas into a spiritual worldview can create a repulsive image for outsiders, who may then say: “These people have a spiritual world; but it’s no different from ours: with us the light ether dances, with them even the spiritual ether dances—it’s all the same materialism!” Materialism here, materialism there!

[ 39 ] This should certainly be viewed in the proper light! Then one would no longer be able to form a false impression of what the spiritual-scientific worldview movement can offer people in our time. Then one would realize that asceticism can also be something that, through the strengthening of the soul life, leads upward into the spiritual world and thereby can also bring new forces back into our physical-material existence. These forces are then not forces that cause illness, but rather forces that have a healing effect; they supply our physical bodies with healthy life forces. — It is, of course, more difficult to determine whether a worldview provides us with healthy life forces or unhealthy ones; the unhealthy ones are usually visible, while the healthy ones are generally overlooked. Anyone who can observe this will see how those who stand within a true spiritual current and allow themselves to be nourished by it draw healthy forces from it that can have a healing effect all the way down into the physical realm. And they will also see how symptoms of illness can only take effect when something from the external world—something that does not flow from a spiritual current—is carried into that spiritual current. However, this then has a more severe effect within the spiritual current than if it remains outside, where human beings are protected by conventions from certain errors producing overly strong effects.

[ 40 ] If we take these things in this way, we will come to view true asceticism as a preliminary exercise for a higher life, as a development of powers, and we will once again understand the good old Greek word in the way it was intended. For “askein” means “to strive,” “to strengthen oneself,” and even “to adorn oneself,” so that one’s humanity may reveal itself to the world. Asceticism is a strengthening of the self when understood in its proper sense. But if it is understood to mean that a person wants to leave the soul as it is and then achieve something by subduing the outer physicality, then he separates the soul from the body and makes the body vulnerable to all manner of harmful influences; and then asceticism becomes a source of all manner of physical ailments.

[ 41 ] The positive and negative aspects of egoism will become clear to us as we examine the nature of egoism. Today, however, it will have become clear to you that true, proper asceticism depends on how it works, what it accomplishes, and how it positions itself in the world in such a way that it can never be an end in itself, but only a means to achieving a higher human goal: to live one’s way into the higher worlds. Therefore, if a person wishes to embark on this path of asceticism, they must have a firm grounding in reality beneath their feet. They must not become distant and alienated from the world in which they are placed; rather, they must be able to recognize the world at all times. Whatever he can bring down from the highest of the worlds into this world, he must be able to measure and evaluate here—in this world—in terms of his work; for otherwise, those who claim that asceticism is not work but idleness might easily be proven right! Idleness, however, can very easily become the cause of false asceticism—especially in our time. But whoever makes his circumstances secure and firm and does not lose his footing upholds, precisely in regard to a matter as serious as our human faculties, the highest ideal in asceticism. Oh, how high our ideas can soar when we hold before our eyes an ideal for the exercise of all human faculties, as they are meant to function in the world.

[ 42 ] Let us take a look at the beginning of the Old Testament. It says: “And God said, ‘Let there be light!’” .... Day by day, God brings the physical, sensory world into being from the spiritual world; and at the end of each day, God feels satisfied when He looks upon the physical world—which has been created out of the spiritual—so that He can say: It is good! “And God saw that it was good!” — Thus, from the firm ground of reality on which we initially stand—the foundation of our sound thinking, our steadfast character, and our unwavering feelings—we must step into the spiritual world, explore the realities from which the entire physical world is born, but we must retain the ability, when we apply the powers we have gained in the physical world and see how they fit into the world, to then be able to say to ourselves: “When we approach our surroundings as spiritual researchers, as those who know and understand the spiritual, and see how the powers we have developed fit into the world, then it becomes clear to us that it was good.” When we test our powers in this way in the real world—powers we can gain through proper ascetic practice—we earn the right to say, when we use them: “Behold, they are good!”