The Rudolf Steiner Archive

55. The Mission of Devotion

[ 1 ] Ladies and gentlemen! The last time I had the privilege of speaking before you here about the “Mission of Wrath” and the “Mission of Truth” for the human soul, I was able to refer to the saying of the great Greek philosopher Heraclitus: “You will never discover the limits of the soul, and even if you were to walk every path, so vast are its realms.” — And even back then, the validity of this saying regarding the vastness of human soul life was demonstrated by the fact that we can only penetrate to some extent into the complex fabric of our own soul life if we first, so to speak, bring a little order to our contemplation of the soul; that is to say, if we do not stop at simply viewing the soul as what it presents itself to us—as a sum of fluctuating sensations, feelings, drives, desires, conceptions, ideas, ideals, and so on—but rather if we come to understand how this inner life is divided into three distinct realms: that which we might first call the sentient soul within the human being, that which we might call the intellectual or emotional soul, and finally the third, highest member of the soul, which we might call the conscious soul. For these three distinct members of the soul have three entirely different kinds of developmental conditions. And what can, so to speak, teach us how one of these soul elements develops is not at the same time capable of providing insight into the laws and conditions of development of the other soul elements mentioned.

[ 2 ] Our sensuous soul first presents itself to us as that which responds within us to the external stimuli we encounter from both nature and human life—that which first receives impressions from the external world and then, on the basis of these impressions, develops precisely what we might call the passions for something, the drives to do or desire this or that. All of this—that is, the impulses, desires, passions, and disordered inner life that unfold even in the lowest human soul—we designate as the realm of the sensory soul.

[ 3 ] When a person then progresses in their development, when they—as one might say—internalize themselves, what occurs is what can be called the emergence of the intellectual or emotional soul in contrast to the sensory soul. As long as a person gives free rein to his anger in response to some external stimulus, as long as he is seized by the emotion of fear in response to some external impression, we can speak only of the sentient soul.

[ 4 ] But when a person independently processes the feelings and impressions of the external world within himself, when—in addition to being absorbed in the external world—he is able to delve into himself to some extent, so that he connects and combines the impressions of the external world, then he gradually rises above the mere turmoil of the sensory soul and arrives within himself at what can be called the rational control of instincts, desires, and passions through ideas—which, on the other hand, can be described as a soothing and purifying of unbridled instincts and passions through the mind. In short, the rational soul and the emotional soul—which actually constitute a unity—are that through which human beings rise above the mere sensory soul.

[ 5 ] That such an elevation takes place—that a person can, as it were, turn away from the outside world and process these impressions within themselves to a certain degree of perfection—is what external life teaches us when we consider an example such as the following. Certainly, there were many people who were contemporaries of the events from 1750 to 1815. This period was marked by tremendous upheavals in life. Let us now take a closer look at those who allowed these events to take their course. They had an effect on their emotional nature. All those who were able to witness these events were swept away by the feelings and impressions. [However], only those who processed these impressions within themselves [became] wiser in a certain sense, richer in life wisdom and experience. They then faced the world in 1815 with a different inner life of the soul—a clearer inner life of the soul—than they had, say, in 1770. This is the elevation of the intellectual or emotional soul above the soul of feeling.

[ 6 ] But if only this intellectual or emotional soul were at work within us, then we would, so to speak, withdraw more and more into ourselves. We would indeed grow richer in wisdom and life experience, but what we call “knowledge of the world”—the understanding of the great laws that lie behind things, and which we can approach only by stepping out of ourselves again, by permeating our impressions with what we have acquired through life experience and wisdom—would not come to our soul; and this occurs through the knowing or conscious soul, which leads the human being out of himself and back toward the world. At that moment, he allows the consciousness soul to take the lead—not merely when, so to speak, he becomes richer and richer in ideas within himself, but when he applies these ideas to organize and penetrate what initially exists as a multitude of impressions, so that the laws of existence, the laws of the world gradually become apparent to him, so that, as it were, through his soul of consciousness, he reconnects outwardly with this world.

[ 7 ] And when we ask ourselves—as has already been mentioned—what is at work within us with the aim of bringing these three soul elements into appropriate interaction with one another, of working one out of the other, of allowing one to influence the other? That which is at work within us is the true human “I,” the true bearer of human self-consciousness.

[ 8 ] But it is also this human “I” that is in a state of constant development. As it were, still submerged, it rests within the sensory soul. As long as the sensory soul alone reigns, the “I” appears as a slave to this sensory soul, slavishly devoted to all impressions from the external world, as it were overwhelmed by all the impressions of color, light, and warmth, and tyrannized by its passions, drives, and desires.

[ 9 ] But then this “I” continues to work, striving on its own to make the human being ever more mature. As the intellectual soul is purified from the sensory soul, the “I” becomes increasingly independent; it increasingly becomes the master of the drives, desires, and passions; and it is increasingly led to determine for itself the direction and goal of life. Then the “I” works its way up to the soul of consciousness, so to speak, to break through the skin of the soul and reunite with things, to live within the things and events of the world.

[ 10 ] Thus we see that it is the “I” that reigns over these three members of the soul, and we have emphasized in recent lectures—which I will only briefly recap here today—that something like an emotion, such as anger, works by its very nature within the sensory soul to allow the “I” to develop in the proper way. When a person initially surrenders to external impressions to the extent that he follows such an impression directly through the sensuous soul, so that he is overcome by anger, then this anger itself in turn affects his soul. We can observe that anger—because it obscures the “I,” because it robs the “I” of full, clear, and lucid consciousness, and because it prevents the “I” from stepping out into a wholly self-centered existence—thereby salutarily tempers this still undeveloped “I.” It is still entirely a slave to the feeling soul; it would surrender itself completely to the prevailing drives, and anger tempers it down to a certain powerlessness, not allowing it to fully run its course. By tempering it, anger actually does something good. If anger were merely to lead to the self’s self-expression, then each time the self expressed itself, this self would be reinforced in its selfishness and self-will.

[ 11 ] In this vein, we could consider the role of anger in the development of the ego. Anger, as it were, counteracts selfishness by suppressing the ego. And we can observe this in all emotions: they serve as a form of self-regulation for the soul or the ego.

[ 12 ] And then we were able to point out how truth has an educational effect on the “I” within the human soul. Since truth is something a person must fully grasp within themselves if they truly wish to experience it in their “I,” they can experience it only by recognizing this truth within themselves. Thus, the “I” must live entirely within itself if it is to arrive at true truth. A million people may vote against the truth that 3 × 3 = 9; but if the “I” has grasped this truth within itself, then the “I” knows that 3 × 3 = 9, that it is true. Through this, the “I” is fully at one with itself when it penetrates the truth.

[ 13 ] At the same time, however, truth is something that leaves no room for selfishness or egotism, but rather something that simultaneously leads the “I” out of itself. Truth is the only thing that must be fully experienced within the self and that, at the same time, can in turn make the self completely selfless. For once we have arrived with our self at a truth that must be experienced in and of itself, this truth does not merely belong to the individual self, but is a common heritage for every self.

[ 14 ] Thus, truth is a powerful educator for the intellectual or emotional soul, because it leads the “I” out of selfishness and, at the same time, stimulates the powers of individuality to the highest degree. For truth can be experienced only in an “I” that seeks this truth within itself. Thus, in a certain sense, emotions such as anger—when they are overcome and purified—can be regarded as educators of the emotional soul, and truth as a powerful educator of the intellectual or emotional soul.

[ 15 ] Similarly, there is now an educator for the conscious soul—for that part of us which, through our “I,” leads our soul as a whole completely out of ourselves and allows us to grow together with the external world, with that which does not rest within us but is outside of us, and with which we must grow together if we do not wish to become desolate within ourselves. And today’s reflection is to be devoted to the education of this third member of the soul.

[ 16 ] Just as anger has the mission, in a certain sense, to curb selfishness in the feeling soul, and just as truth has the mission, in the intellectual soul, to guide the “I” both to be within itself and to develop the impulse to step outside oneself—so that which we call devotion becomes the educator of the conscious soul, showing it the right path to reunite with the external world, with that which lies outside our “I.” Only then will devotion reveal its true mission to us, as we come to recognize its purpose for this third member of the human soul. However, in order to be able to describe, so to speak, the entire mission of devotion for the human soul, we must look a little more deeply into the workings of our soul.

[ 17 ] Devotion is, after all—as the term itself suggests—what enables human beings to step outside themselves and penetrate into the other, which is, above all and first and foremost, an unknown entity lying beyond the visible, beyond the perceptible. But we can only understand this devotion if we first ask ourselves: How must spiritual science—from whose perspective we are speaking here—conceive of this entire relationship of the human being, or the human “I,” to the unknown?

[ 18 ] It has been emphasized time and again in this context that spiritual science is specifically called upon to penetrate through the outer world of physical reality to that which is, at first, unknown and hidden from this outer physical reality. And it has been pointed out time and again that human beings can only penetrate the unknown spiritual world lying beyond the physical world by awakening within their own souls the spiritual organs—the spiritual powers of perception—that lead beyond the sensory-physical realm.

[ 19 ] And so that we may understand one another, I shall briefly outline here what you will now find described in great detail as the path the human soul can take into the spiritual world—both in my book *How to Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds* and in the second section of the recently published *The Secret Science*. What is described in detail there will be briefly outlined here.

[ 20 ] The intention is to suggest how a person can become a spiritual researcher and communicate with the spiritual world by cultivating their soul in such a way that the powers and abilities lying dormant within it become active in the external world. To do this, a person must use their will and consciousness to bring about something that otherwise occurs in everyday life without their will. The everyday occurrence that takes place within a person without their will is this: the ebb and flow of perceptions, drives, and passions—the pleasures and sorrows—cease to be consciously present in the soul in the evening when a person feels tired, sinking into an indeterminate darkness. At this time, as one falls asleep, external impressions cease. In their place, however, a person sinks into a state of unconsciousness—or rather, the subconscious. Their soul is empty of external impressions; yet, so to speak, they are also no longer aware of any world or of inner experiences.

[ 21 ] That which occurs so involuntarily must be something that the spiritual researcher—the one who wishes to immerse himself in the spiritual world—is able to consciously evoke through his own will. He must consciously silence external impressions. He must also command all interests, all sympathies and antipathies arising from external impressions to come to a standstill and fall silent. The very same stillness and cessation of external stimuli and impressions that occurs in the evening when fatigue sets in and one falls asleep—this is what the spiritual knower must bring about in himself at will. But he must remain present throughout all this; he must be able to prevent—through his will and consciousness—his consciousness from slipping into unconsciousness when he empties the soul of all external stimuli and impressions. He must, so to speak, be just as conscious with an empty soul as he otherwise is with a full soul that receives external impressions. Thus, the spiritual researcher must have the power to repel all external impressions, yet still be able to remain conscious in the state of an empty soul. This is the first act that the spiritual researcher must perform.

[ 22 ] The second point is that he allows a series of ideas, sensations, and impulses of the will—which are presented to him—to take effect upon his soul. Those ideas, sensations, and impulses of the will, which he must now bring to life in his soul through his own inner strength, are not meant to reflect external impressions or to convey an external truth. Anyone who viewed them from this perspective would be greatly mistaken. What must constitute the inner life of spiritual cognition is an ascent of very specific—let us say, symbolic—concepts, ideas, and so on, which have such a powerful effect on the soul that they indeed powerfully stir this inner life, which has become empty, from within—even more powerfully than any external impressions or stimuli can stir the life of the soul. This is the second act of spiritual cognition, when the spiritual researcher himself can stir up within himself such experiences that powerfully shake his soul.

[ 23 ] But this must not be the end. If the spiritual seeker were to wish to stop at this stage, he would not be able to truly ascend to a deeper understanding of the spiritual world; he must add the third act, which consists in using his own strength to temper—through mere inner contemplation—that which would otherwise affect his soul like an earthquake, so that he transforms his entire soul life into something like an inner stillness of the sea, a complete [inner] calm. Then, when he is thus able to master and cultivate his soul inwardly, he will experience that something rises from within him through his spiritual faculties, which, on a higher level, can only be compared to the external senses on a lower level. Then—as has often been said—the spiritual world, which is always around him like color and light around one born blind, floods in just as light and color flood into the eye of one born blind who has undergone surgery.

[ 24 ] This is how a person can enter the spiritual world. Then the spiritual unknown—which reigns and acts behind the sensory-physical realm—opens up to them: the spiritual realities and spiritual beings that are not accessible to a purely sensory or intellectual perception of reality.

[ 25 ] So here we are, standing right in the midst of a world of spiritual life. But at first, this spiritual world remains hidden from our physical eyes and our intellect. We must ask ourselves: What are the reasons why this spiritual world remains hidden from human physical sight and understanding? There are reasons for this, and these reasons will become clear to us when we ask ourselves: Indeed, where in everyday life do we encounter even a small glimpse of what stands as a boundary between the physical and the spiritual world?

[ 26 ] This confronts us precisely at the moment we described earlier. What, essentially, does the spiritual researcher do when he activates his inner soul forces? He transforms that moment—which otherwise occurs involuntarily for human beings, the moment of falling asleep—into a conscious one; and what otherwise occurs through falling asleep, the spiritual researcher transforms into a supreme experience. In ordinary consciousness, everything that a human being could possibly experience sinks into an unconscious darkness upon falling asleep. In that world into which a person plunges every night—the world in which they dwell during sleep—they could perceive the spiritual world. For it has already been shown here on several occasions that it is precisely what we call the “soul being” that lifts itself out of the physical body and out of what is connected to it—the etheric or life body— but at the very moment when what we call the soul being detaches itself with the onset of sleep, consciousness ceases for the person in normal consciousness—that is, the world into which they enter is veiled, so that they cannot see it. But the one who becomes a spiritual researcher can see into this world!

[ 27 ] And how does a human being attain consciousness of the external world? A human being attains consciousness of the external world when, in the morning, he once again enters his physical body and makes use of his physical organs and his physical intellect, which is bound to the brain. But in doing so, they are bound by the limitations of the physical organs. The spiritual researcher, on the other hand, once they have attained what has just been outlined, once they have acquired these inner faculties, steps back into their physical body so that they no longer need to perceive solely through the physical senses, but can perceive their surroundings directly through the inner organs of the soul. In this way, he sees beyond what spreads out in the outer world like a boundary and veils the actual spiritual world. The spiritual researcher learns to look beyond every color into what the color reveals to us; the spiritual researcher hears, behind every sound, what stands behind it as a spiritual being. He looks beyond every perceptible impression. The world becomes crystal clear to him. And when he looks through the veil of the outer world in this way, spiritual beings and realities are revealed to him.

[ 28 ] But when the spiritual researcher penetrates the spiritual world in this way, he has no choice—if he is to avoid the danger of foundering—but to undergo two important experiences in the course of his initiation or development as a spiritual researcher. These two important experiences are also described in greater detail in the two books mentioned earlier. They are what are known as the encounters with the Guardians of the Threshold.

[ 29 ] The fact is that before a person’s inner soul faculties awaken in the proper way, before he becomes capable of diving down into that darkness during sleep, before he perceives the reality behind it, he must encounter what is called the little guardian of the threshold. This is the perception through which a person’s own essence appears clearly and distinctly before their soul in true self-knowledge. Through this, a person learns to understand what they truly are. Above all, they come to know what can be called true individual knowledge of karma and reincarnation. A person learns to recognize how he has passed from life to life before entering this one; he learns to recognize how, in past lives, he has inscribed this or that into his soul as his karma—by having lived in one way or another, whether truthfully or burdened with error, indulging in beautiful or ugly impressions, and performing good or evil deeds in past lives. Depending on how they have lived—in one way or another—they come to recognize what their soul has inscribed within itself and what it still must go through in order to eradicate all error, everything that would prevent the soul from reaching a certain level of perfection. All the imperfections that the soul carries within itself—the person comes to recognize these as a kind of second self, as something they must overcome, as a kind of doppelgänger, about whom they know full well: You must overcome this, otherwise you will never reach the goal of the human life journey.

[ 30 ] This encounter with one’s own double would be a shocking, terrifying event for a person who were not sufficiently prepared. Spiritual science ensures that a person only comes to see this guardian of the threshold in his true form when he is sufficiently prepared for it. And one should not enter into one’s own human soul life until one has experienced just how imperfect one must be as a result of one’s entire past life. Through this, that which enables us to enter into the powers of our own soul without running any risk is developed within us.

[ 31 ] What would happen if we could enter these depths of the soul without encountering the guardian of the threshold? Something would occur that would be very destructive for human beings. Let us suppose, for a moment, that it were to happen that a person, through some event, were to gain access to the supersensible spiritual faculties of their soul without encountering the little guardian of the threshold. Then this entry would not be able to undergo all that tempering, all that purification, which is possible only when we have before us, in all our imperfection, a double of ourselves. Then the good qualities of our soul would not come to the fore to, so to speak, temper all that reigns and weaves within our “I”—the selfish impulses and drives that consider only our own “I.” If a person were to descend into his ego [without] making the acquaintance of the Guardian of the Threshold, this would mean for him that all the evil aspects of his nature would be stirred up within him. Everything he is capable of in terms of the evil impulses of his nature would be awakened within him. Everything rooted in his soul—arrogance, vanity, and deceitfulness—would assert itself, rearing up like a mighty force. And the human being would become, to the highest degree, a being who consumes and burns himself up through his own selfishness; the human being would perish in his own selfishness; he would bring himself into such a conflict with the world that he would first consume himself through his own selfishness. This is what can characterize us—how a person, so to speak, enjoys a certain benefit in life through the fact that his consciousness is darkened at the moment he falls asleep. Were he not to remain unconscious during sleep, he would derive from the world—in which he would then be conscious—a continuous intensification of his selfishness and his insincerity.

[ 32 ] Now, for all those things that, so to speak, must occur at a higher level of human existence for the sake of human development, there are faint traces in ordinary life—something like preparations. We can say: Even if a person does not, in this particular incarnation, have any inclination to transcend ordinary life and reach a higher level of consciousness, he can still prepare himself for it, even [already] in this life. And a preparation for this descent into one’s own soul—a preparation that acts to protect the, so to speak, normal outer soul from sinking into complete selfishness and insincerity—is everything we take into our feeling soul in the form of sensations and feelings of humility.

[ 33 ] Humility is an effective means of self-education because, when we allow it to guide our conscious daily life, when we let humility permeate our soul, [so that it then] permeates our inner life with a spiritual substance that protects the soul—when it descends into the spiritual world—from drawing all the forces of selfishness out of this “I.” That is why humility is recommended as a preparatory quality for all those who, even in their ordinary waking daily life, wish to prepare themselves to gradually enable their soul to become selfless, even in those situations where it might otherwise become selfish.

[ 34 ] Through everything we instill in our souls as humility, we also make our encounter with the Guardian of the Threshold easier. We make it easier by becoming aware of our imperfection even while awake, so that we do not find the Keeper appearing before our eyes in such a terribly repulsive form. His horror is, as it were, stripped away.

[ 35 ] Thus, humility is something that serves as a good educational tool when we descend into our own soul, into its depths, which are otherwise closed off to us for our own good. As long as we are immature, they must remain closed off if we do not wish to be shipwrecked in life. This is, as it were, a kind of boundary toward the “below”—that “below” which we must describe as that which lies beneath the surface, in the depths of our inner life, hidden from us even in sleep.

[ 36 ] But there is another limit; and this becomes apparent to us when we familiarize ourselves once more with what has just been outlined. It has been said that when the spiritual researcher returns to the physical body, he is not limited to mere physical perception or mere thinking with the intellect, but that he is able to draw upon soul faculties—inner faculties—through which he can look through to the spiritual underpinnings, to the spiritual beings and realities of the world. These, however, remain hidden from the outward gaze of people in their normal state of consciousness. Why is that? They remain hidden because if a person were to approach unprepared what lies behind the sensory world as its very foundations, they would be blinded—as if annihilated.

[ 37 ] The path that shows us, so to speak, in the gentlest possible way how a person, as it were, steps out of his ordinary physical faculties to face the external world spiritually—the gentlest degree of this is what has been called ecstasy. This is actually not a good thing. It does, however, lead a person, in a certain sense, to rise above his physical seeing, hearing, grasping, and understanding to a kind of spiritual perception of the external world; but this ecstasy, as it is so often described, thereby obscures immediate self-consciousness. The person is then beside himself; he does not carry his “I” into the world of spiritual experiences. Just as sleep spreads a veil, as it were, over what we would otherwise experience to our detriment—because it would make us selfish—so too does the veil of external reality spread over the spiritual world lying behind it; and this, too, appears as a beneficial effect to the person who would approach this spiritual world unprepared.

[ 38 ] Anyone who, as a true spiritual researcher, wishes to enter into this spiritual realm must have a different kind of encounter. It is the encounter with what is called the great or greater Keeper of the Threshold. This is what, at the very moment when we, so to speak, break through ordinary perception and ordinary understanding, reveals to us just how far we are from a complete understanding of the world. Then the great Keeper of the Threshold steps before us. And he clearly instructs us that we must no longer pose all those questions about ultimate causes so casually, and that we must no longer curiously step behind the veil of existence without first, step by step, carefully and slowly cultivating and developing the abilities that lead us upward, so that we may gradually gain insights from one world to the next. Then, through this greater Keeper of the Threshold—who is to be characterized here solely from this perspective—we learn what abilities we still lack in order to penetrate the spiritual world. At the same time, we receive guidance on how to develop what we still lack. The self-perfection to which we must submit is presented to us with the utmost clarity through what is called the Greater Keeper of the Threshold.

[ 39 ] However, even for this level of higher experience—the level of penetration into all the spiritual depths, into the great unknown entities—human beings can already prepare themselves in their ordinary, so to speak, normal state of consciousness. And because everything in humanity is geared toward development, even our ordinary life contains within it that which allows us to draw nearer to the mysteries of existence, to the unknown worlds that lie beyond sensory realities. It is present there like a teacher who can gradually guide us to soften the impression made by the greater Guardian of the Threshold. Just as, when we are led as humble beings to the lesser Guardian of the Threshold, we can soften this encounter—so that he no longer appears to us in his terrifying form, in which he would otherwise starkly present us with the doppelgänger of our imperfections—so too can we soften that other encounter with the greater Guardian of the Threshold, whom every human being must eventually encounter in the course of their development. We can likewise soften the impression of that great, mighty figure who, through his glory—through the way he confronts us when he says, “This is what you must become”—shows us, precisely through his majesty, what we still have to develop. If we are properly prepared, we will not be driven back in fear and terror as if before a cherubim with a flaming sword. And unconsciously, people who are on the right path in life—the path of true inner morality—are constantly preparing themselves for this great moment.

[ 40 ] And that which prepares us in our conscious soul—so that we may step forth once more in the proper way from this conscious soul with the “I,” not only into physical reality but also into spiritual reality, in order to acquire spiritual knowledge—that is what is referred to by the word “devotion.” Contemplation is what stirs within the soul through inner impulses toward the unknown—unknown to us insofar as we cannot yet understand it. If we had nothing within us that pointed us toward what we cannot yet understand, then the urge and the longing to reach the unknown could not awaken. Everything we one day wish to understand—and can only understand once we have entered into it—must first take effect within us in a dark, yearning way. That which draws us toward what we are not yet equal to, what stands above us, and what lies beyond us—that is devotion. We can be truly devout precisely toward that which we know we cannot yet penetrate with the powers of our soul or with our knowledge. But then this devotion is something that brings us closer to the object in question in just the right way, so that we may enter it with dignity and gain true, not trivial, knowledge of it.

[ 41 ] That all knowledge must be preceded by something like such a feeling is understandable from the outset. One need only consider that, while it is true that humans must understand everything through logic—that is, that we must approach everything through logical thinking—and that logic is what can prove everything to us in existence. But what does logic itself prove to us? If one is not to arrive at the self-contradiction that logic proves itself, then one must assume that there is something else in the human soul besides mere logic—something that, in turn, proves logic. Logic can only be proven by something that has nothing to do with logic itself. And that is, in human beings, what one might call their original, healthy sense of truth. Thus, logic ultimately leads us back to feeling. All understanding leads us back to feeling.

[ 42 ] If one is sincere, there is no getting around this matter. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that the highest recognition of an unknown presence behind things first arises within us in that devotional feeling we call devotion. And if this devotion, which reigns within us, works within us, and weaves its way into our soul before we have recognized anything that we reverently worship—if this feeling itself is what leads us upward, so to speak, up the mountain toward that which then reveals itself to our understanding—that is devotion in the highest sense of the word.

[ 43 ] But everything that confronts us in the highest sense also confronts us outwardly in its initial form. And so devotion, in its highest perfection, is indeed that which lives within us as a longing surrender to the unknown, so that it may one day reveal itself to us when we are ready; yet this devotion is present to a lesser degree toward all that we have not yet come to know, even in the ordinary external world.

[ 44 ] For example, when a younger person looks up to an older, more experienced one, he naturally cannot fully comprehend him; for it is vanity to believe—sometimes even strongly, based on our contemporary worldview—that we can judge everything at any stage of existence. To anyone who has a concept of knowledge, it seems absurd when someone believes, for example, that they can biographically describe a multifaceted figure like Goethe, for the fact is that we can fundamentally understand only those with whom we have already identified. If we were unable to establish a connection with those with whom we have not yet identified, then we would be unable to gain any understanding of them at all.

[ 45 ] But the human soul is constituted in such a way that, if it preserves its healthy sensibilities, it can revere something for a long time, devoting itself to it with devotion, before it comes to recognize it. And so it is with all the maturing of the human soul. And those who observe life even in its most superficial depths will find confirmation of what has already been emphasized here many times: that in later life one always recalls, time and again, with such gratitude the hours and moments of childhood in which one was able to revere this or that human being, this or that personality, with such devotion.

[ 46 ] It will always be a special moment when a person is able to experience, surrounded by their family, the reverence shown toward a particular figure they know. The child may not have seen this figure yet—and thus may not even have had the chance to form a first impression; they look up, as it were, from the stories about what can be seen, as if to something entirely unknown. Then they experience the day, seeking first to gain an impression through external experience of the figure they had previously admired. Then they may stand with shy reverence before the doorknob that is to grant them entry to the figure they have come to admire. Once the child has had these feelings, it approaches the outward impression in a completely different way; then it will radiate something of the wondrous splendor that our soul can radiate when it first develops reverence and admiration before approaching the object.

[ 47 ] Devotion and reverence are something wonderfully luminous that can cast a marvelous light [upon] what we will encounter later on. One looks back—as I just said—on the greatest moments of one’s childhood, on precisely such moments when one truly learned to revere even that which one might encounter in the outside world. And in these seeds of devotion, one finds a small reflection of what that all-encompassing devotion can offer—a devotion that soars upward toward that which must remain, to a greater or lesser extent, unknown to us. Even if, to a certain degree, it has already opened up to us as an understanding of the spiritual world, something still remains unknown to us; for behind every known thing lies, in turn, an unknown. Even ordinary devotions are a reflection of this all-encompassing devotion with which our soul strives toward the unknown before it can fully penetrate this unknown.

[ 48 ] Thus, in devotion, we find a strength that enables us to set out on the path toward the unknown. And just as it is true that the forces and abilities known and evident in the outer, human, sensory world arise from the spiritual and the unknown, so it is also the case that our own forces, which flow to us from the spiritual world, can only flow to us if we ourselves seek the right path to this spiritual world—the path through devotion. Even in ordinary life, as it unfolds before us between birth and death, we can find the healing power of devotion.

[ 49 ] If we view life in this way, we must say that it is permeated throughout—alongside all other moods that can be developed toward the world, alongside the moods of joy and pleasure, alongside the moods of jubilation and enthusiasm—by the possibility of developing a mood of reverence in the face of the phenomena of existence, whether known or unknown. We encounter this, for example, in poetry, in the fact that alongside the song of jubilation, alongside that of joy, alongside that of rapture, there also stand the hymn and the ode. We encounter this in all the arts, and we may say: Just as there are works of art that, as it were, affirm to us how we are equal to and connected with the things of existence, so too are there works of art that evoke in us a sense of how we can strive toward the highest, that draw us, as it were, toward the highest.

[ 50 ] Thus, life presents us with ample opportunities for contemplation everywhere; and we should be mindful of this in our daily lives; above all, we should not overlook it in a true philosophy of life, for it is important that we incorporate into the course of our lives, from childhood onward, what contemplation can offer us.

[ 51 ] When we consider life between birth and death, we can find what is called karma—the great law of destiny—which presents itself to us as a chain of spiritual causes and effects; but it presents itself in a peculiar way. For example, certain things that are laid as causes in early youth manifest their effects in later life. What we may absorb in childhood through this or that only manifests as an effect in old age. And depending on what the causes were, so too are the effects. The effects are not the same; rather, we must first understand the connection between cause and effect.

[ 52 ] The young person who is growing up, raised in the true sense and without anything that might be distorted into some dark side of devotion—who is growing up in true devotion—will notice that this transforms into something else within his or her soul. There is something we can observe here and there in a more intimate understanding of life: when this or that person enters a group of other people—perhaps saying nothing at all, or very little—yet their very presence radiates what might be called a beneficent element. The presence of such a person brings joy and blessing to those around them. That which radiates from him spiritually has entered into him.

[ 53 ] But this power of blessing does not enter into a person’s later life unless it is rooted in what we have developed within ourselves in our youth as a spirit of devotion. Devotion in youth transforms throughout life into the power to bless in old age. This is a karmic connection that we encounter between birth and death. We do not need to know this solely from spiritual science; anyone who knows life can see it everywhere. We could express it in symbolic terms: One who has not been able to worship devoutly in youth—with bent knees and clasped hands—will never be able to extend a hand to bless. The bent knees and folded hands of youth are the cause that, in old age, transforms into blessing hands. This is one of the wisdoms of our lives. Here we see one of those forces that come to us from the spiritual world, even if we are not yet able to look into it. Devotion first leads us upward into the spiritual world, which is still hidden from our sight because the greater Guardian of the Threshold is not permitted to reveal himself to us. It remains hidden from us, yet sends forth from within itself the forces whose effects, permeating everything, emerge from our own actions.

[ 54 ] In this way, we can cultivate within ourselves a spirit of reverence toward an unknown world. We may not yet be able to penetrate it to understand it, but it radiates forces that are transformed within our soul and become impulses of action for our outer life. Just as when we fall asleep at night, weary, and wake up refreshed in the morning—just as the night brings us refreshment, just as it restores what enables our weary arms to work again—so it is in our outer life when we know how to approach the unknown worlds — into which we are not yet able to look, which lie beyond sensory reality — when we approach them with reverence. Thus, like gentle sleep, their forces may veil our consciousness; yet they bestow their forces upon us. And it is devotion that enables us to make our pilgrimage to unknown worlds and that opens up to us the powers of these unknown worlds, thereby bringing our “I” out of ourselves and enabling us to be effective in the outer world. Thus, with our “I,” we approach the unknown worlds with devotion. From them, our “I” is enriched with that which can reunite us with the world. We become more powerful, stronger, and more vigorous through what devotion bestows upon us.

[ 55 ] This is the mission of devotional prayer for the soul element that we call the conscious soul, through which we, in turn, step outside of ourselves and, as it were, pour our “I” out into the outer world. Everything that makes us fruitful for the outer world, we owe to our devotional dispositions toward that which is worthy of reverence. And the person who cannot be devotional will not be able to intervene [in life]. Then people will come and say: Yes, I succeed at nothing; people do not believe in me; people do not want to understand me. People then focus on the phenomena that present themselves in this way, but not on the underlying reasons. The reason lies in the fact that such people, who find themselves compelled to feel misunderstood, have never been able to find within themselves the spirit of devotion. This is the mission of devotion: to educate our “I” to grow together with the world.

[ 56 ] Thus, we first grow into the world, so to speak, unconsciously through the forces that devotional practice gives us, in order to gradually draw closer to the spiritual world itself once we have matured enough through what devotional practice brings about within us. However, we must also be clear that devotional practice, in a certain sense, leads the “I” out of itself, and that if a person wishes to walk the right paths of the world, they must never relinquish their “I” during the present stage of development; for the “I” gives them the capacity for judgment, the ability to reason correctly, and the possibility of engaging with the world without confusion. Therefore, anyone who has a natural inclination to surrender to devotional moods must bear in mind that, while they may go as far as possible into that devotional mood, they must never lose themselves in that surrender.

[ 57 ] We can describe the two elements of devotion that are revealed to us as submission and surrender on the one hand, and love on the other. When our soul is filled with and warmed by love for a being, this love is the one element that leads us to devotion; the submission of the will is the other element that leads to devotion. And wherever love and devotion arise, they must also arise [as love and devotion] toward the unknown; for there is an intimate connection between all beings, including the lower beings and ourselves. Love and devotion constitute that part of our soul which can then manifest itself as devotion. But we must not lose ourselves in devotion; we must enter into the mood of devotion while preserving our sense of self. If we do not do this, we paralyze our will, and our will is weakened rather than strengthened. If we approach things with a blind love, one not permeated by the intellectual soul, then this love becomes blind, and instead of gaining insight, we will arrive at a form of superstition, of blind faith. And above all, if the intellect and the emotional soul do not permeate our love and purify it, we will end up with what we might call unguided, unreflective love. But that is fanaticism. It is that which can ultimately escalate into delusion regarding the unknown. Just as we are gradually condemned to spiritual powerlessness through a devotion or surrender in which we lose our sense of self, so too are we led astray into a wandering like a will-o’-the-wisp through our love, which is not illuminated by the actions of the guide who is there precisely to help us find our way: the soul of reason or the soul of feeling.

[ 58 ] We must not lose either our will or our reason-guided emotions if the beneficial effects of devotion, as described, are to occur.

[ 59 ] In this context, one will likely also recognize that the cultivation of devotion, like devotion itself, requires something that lies far beyond anything purely intellectual. When a proper middle ground must be found between salvation and danger, what always comes into play is what one might call the rhythm of life and a sense of life. Therefore, one cannot lead someone into devotion in the proper way through abstract ideas alone, but only by allowing that which, in turn, flows from properly guided devotion to pour out over their entire soul. That is why, especially in the education in devotion, observing another devout person can have such a powerful effect; here, example must play such a significant role.

[ 60 ] That is why devotion, where it should be cultivated, was so dependent on being nurtured in community; that is also why a person walking alone through the world can find very little room for devotion. And just as it can easily develop through contemplating others, devotion is also what leads us out of ourselves, what brings us together with other people; for nothing kindles our devotion more beautifully than when we can share it with others who are looking up in the same spirit of devotion. Thus, in this respect as well, devotion leads our soul upward to the heights, where it steps out of itself as a soul of consciousness, where it enters into communion with the world around it. In devotion, a person finds something that leads them out of themselves, that frees them from mere selfish feeling, willing, and thinking, and that guides them to share, together with others in their “I,” something to which they can look up. This is the mission of devotion in human society. It leads “I” to “I”; it pours out a wonderful mood and atmosphere over a congregation when it is properly nurtured and cultivated.

[ 61 ] Thus, devotion plays the greatest conceivable role for human beings in both ordinary and elevated life. And devotion also leads them upward to the heights of life. This is, after all, what all those strive for who wish to break through the outer, sensory veil and enter the spiritual world. This is what they strive for through the longing and impulse of devotion: to ascend to that which they devoutly revere, to be able to live with that which they first devoutly revere; to be able to unite with that which one first devoutly reveres, to be able to stand in that to which one first strives from below. This has been called throughout the ages #nio mystica—spiritual union with the spiritual world from which the human being originates, but with which he can consciously unite once he has gradually matured to the point of being ready. Mystical union stood before all spiritual seekers as a lofty ideal. To all those striving spiritually, that which lives and works in the human soul as forces appeared as a feminine principle that, in a devout mood, draws upward toward that which interweaves and permeates the world and can fertilize the soul as a masculine principle. This was also what Goethe sensed, drawing from his deep understanding of the mystical mood of human development, when he wrote the “Chorus mysticus” at the end of his life’s work. There he wrote the words that, as it were, resonate into our souls from unknown spiritual expanses and bring the mystery of our soul’s striving and development before our inner eye—words that tell us that everything we encounter in the outer world is a parable for the Eternal, and that what is beyond the reach of sensory striving can be attained through spiritual striving. What we cannot describe with physical words is accomplished when we unite with that which inspires us from the spiritual world. And then these words resonate into that wonderful dictum that tells us: The soul is like an eternal feminine that allows itself to be fertilized by that which lives as a masculine in the mysteries of the worlds, beyond sensory existence. Thus does Goethe’s “Chorus mysticus” sound to our ears as if it were unraveling the great mystery of human development:

All that is fleeting
Is but a parable,
That which is inadequate,
Here it becomes an event,
That which is indescribable,
Here it is done,
The eternally feminine
Draws us upward.

[ 62 ] But when, through an understanding of the mission of devotion, we learn to comprehend our own soul—how it draws us, as the Eternal Feminine, toward the Eternal Masculine, which is to flow into us as World Wisdom—then we also gain, from this understanding of the mission of devotion, a higher understanding of true union with the Eternal Masculine in the world. And we feel a certainty regarding that which unfolds as the mystery of the world: that we can one day attain this unio mystica through our spiritual striving, and that it is precisely through the spirit of devotion that we draw ever closer to this unio mystica, so that we may ultimately experience it.

[ 63 ] And so, on the one hand, Goethe’s words resonate with us when we contemplate the human soul:

The Eternal Feminine
Draws us upward!

[ 64 ] And so, as an expression of the truth that flows to us from the unio mystica, another word resonates with us—one that must impose itself upon us when we receive the certainty that we can unite with the Eternal Masculine. As if to complement Goethe’s words, “The Eternal Feminine draws us upward,” the one who is certain of the eventual attainment of the unio mystica will, looking up toward the mysteries of existence, say: The Eternal Masculine leads us upward!