The Rudolf Steiner Archive

2. How Does One Refute Theosophy?

[ 1 ] Ladies and gentlemen! Perhaps the title of today’s lecture came as a surprise to some, since it might seem strange that, for this invitation from our friends in Prague, I chose as my first lecture topic the question: “How does one refute theosophy?” – Nevertheless, it seems to me that letting one’s thoughts wander over this very topic can serve as a good introduction to understanding and becoming familiar with the theosophical or spiritual-scientific worldview. If theosophy or spiritual science is to win the hearts of a large number of our contemporaries, it is of the utmost importance that it not only become a worldview and a philosophy of life, but that, stemming from this worldview and philosophy of life, vital impulses arise—impulses that give us strength, security, and hope for life, but also impulses that foster the inner harmony of our soul.

[ 2 ] Now, there is nothing more dangerous to a worldview—and nothing that could, so to speak, provide less suitable impetus for life—than everything that is described by the word “fanaticism.” And everyone knows how fanaticism asserts itself not only in other areas of life, but especially in the realm of various worldviews. If Theosophy or Spiritual Science is to provide an impulse in this very direction, it is of the utmost necessity for it to learn to be completely free of fanaticism as a worldview—that is, to be able to incorporate into its way of life what one might call: full understanding for its opponents and full openness to their possible objections. How often do we hear, in other areas of life and worldviews, that one simply dismisses an opponent as illogical, or perhaps even as a more or less bad person. Theosophy or spiritual science should commit itself to fully understanding its opponents and, in particular, their reasons. It, too, has—one might say—every reason to do so. For as much as it may initially speak to some hearts, and as much as it may satisfy certain longings in life, one must nevertheless say on the other hand: The path into the depths, in order to recognize the probative force of its assertions and teachings—this path is a rather long one. The difficulties that loom before anyone who, coming from contemporary life, wishes to find their way into theosophy in an honest and conscientious manner are precisely the greatest imaginable.

[ 3 ] Therefore, the lecture I will deliver here on March 25—which is intended to provide a positive introduction to the very essence of theosophy—should be introduced and prepared by considering the possible objections and, one might say, those that are to a certain extent justified in our time. But in order to discuss such objections, we must first agree on what theosophy purports to be—namely, what is meant by “theosophy” in this context. For it is certainly true that by no means can everything that presents itself as theosophical literature in the world be taken at face value. Here, we shall speak of Theosophy primarily insofar as it claims to be taken seriously as a science. What, then, is Theosophy, if we set aside everything that clings to its heels in an amateurish manner?

[ 4 ] Theosophy aims to be a worldview that leads upward into the spiritual world; it seeks to provide a scientific foundation for the view that states: Behind everything that our senses tell us about the external world, behind everything that our intellect—bound to the brain—can perceive about the external world, there lies a higher, spiritual world; and it is in this spiritual world that the causes of everything that takes place in the sensory world and in the world of the intellect are to be found.

[ 5 ] However, this would mean that we, as Theosophists, would not differ greatly from some adherents of this or that other contemporary worldview. For today, even in ever-wider circles of external science, there is a growing conviction that behind everything that this external science itself can investigate—the world of the intellect—there lies something else that is, for the time being, unknown. What is essential for Theosophy or spiritual science is not merely the recognition that behind the sensory lies the supersensory, and behind all that is physical lies the spiritual; rather, the essential point is that what lies beyond the physical world is, to a certain degree, knowable to human beings and becomes knowable to an ever-greater degree—provided they prepare their own souls for it. And theosophy or spiritual science cannot agree with those who say: There are limits to human knowledge. – As human beings, we must, of course, limit ourselves to what the senses perceive and what methodological science can investigate. But we can assume that these limits of human knowledge can be expanded more and more, so that through the development of their cognitive powers, human beings can work their way up to the knowledge of worlds that are different from the world in which they initially stand with their normal consciousness. From this point of view, theosophy is inseparable from the premise that human beings are, in a certain sense, capable of developing what—to use Goethe’s term—are spiritual senses, spiritual eyes, and spiritual ears. It is therefore possible for human beings to develop higher faculties, though not physical higher faculties, but rather higher spiritual and soul faculties, so that at a certain point the great, momentous moment arrives for them—a moment that, on a higher level, can be compared to the ordinary moment experienced by someone born blind who is then fortunate enough to regain sight through eye surgery. Whereas before he was surrounded by darkness and colorlessness, the world of vibrant colors now mingles with the darkness as his sight opens up. Just as such an awakening to a world that is higher—or at least different—for him occurs in the case of one born blind, so it is possible for every soul to experience the moment of awakening to another world—that is, to see differently than in the world in which normal consciousness initially resides. In no other sense is the world to be regarded by Theosophy as a different, higher, or supersensory one than in the sense just characterized.

[ 6 ] But then, of course, Theosophy also shows what the means are for bringing about such a moment of awakening for human beings. These means will be discussed in detail in the next lecture. Today, the aim is simply to sketch out the Theosophical worldview.

[ 7 ] To understand what this moment of waking up is really like, let us consider for a moment an experience that every person goes through every day: the moment of falling asleep, when a person sees everything that external impressions make upon their senses fade away, as it were, and when the mind—which spreads out like a net over the perceptions of the senses—ceases to function. We can say that in such a case, a person is in a completely different state of being; they are then unable to perceive anything around them once the impressions of the sensory world and the workings of the intellect cease. Now, of course, only actual experience can determine whether it is absolutely necessary that a person, whenever they receive no impressions from the sensory world, must fall into a state similar to sleep, or whether there might also be another state. This can only be determined by the experience of those who have undergone the inner work of the soul that has led them to develop such strong soul impulses that something can occur for them that is similar to the moment of falling asleep and yet radically different from it. It is similar to falling asleep in that all external sensory impressions and all intellectual activity cease. It differs from falling asleep in that the person wishes to become a spiritual researcher brings his soul, through exercises, to such a state of inner vitality and draws up such forces from its depths that when he arbitrarily brings about the cessation of all external sensory impressions and all intellectual activity, he is not surrounded by unconsciousness, but continues to lead an inner, conscious life even then. This inner, conscious life is a process of the soul orienting itself, a drawing forth of abilities and powers from the depths of the soul of which normal consciousness has no inkling. It can be compared to the restoration of sight in a person born blind after undergoing surgery. From the depths of the soul we can draw up forces that come into play when unconsciousness would otherwise set in, and which now act in such a way that they connect the soul with a spiritual world that is just as truly real for human beings as our sensory world is externally real. Thus, what leads the spiritual researcher to his science is, at first, admittedly something subjective—something that is, so to speak, evoked from one’s own soul—yet the observations of those who have brought their souls to such an awakening yield consistent results. For now, let us describe only what pertains to the human being as he stands immediately before us.

[ 8 ] The human being, as he stands before us, initially appears to our immediate consciousness as a physical body, with everything about him that can be grasped by the hands and seen by the eyes. Theosophy, however, shows us that the essence of the human being is not limited to what we perceive through the senses, but that what we call the “physical body” is embedded in supersensory, higher aspects of human nature, which can only be explored through the path just described. We then speak of how everything that gives rise to the manifestations of life in human beings originates from a specific supersensible aspect of the human being, the so-called “etheric body” or life body. We speak of this etheric body in such a way that it can appear before the inner eye, just as color appears before the physical eye; it is an external spiritual reality, albeit one that can only be perceived supersensually. We go on to say that, in addition to this etheric body, there is another supersensible aspect of human nature—please do not take offense at the name; it is meant to be merely a technical term—the astral body. We call the “astral body” the supersensibly perceptible vehicle of what we otherwise experience only within ourselves as our passions, as pleasure and pain, as sorrows and joys, but also as the entire ebb and flow of our imaginative life. In addition to the etheric body and the astral body, we distinguish yet another supersensible element of human nature; for just as human beings share a physical body with the entire mineral world, so they share the etheric body with the entire plant world and the astral body with the entire animal world. But human beings possess a fourth element of their own, through which they are the crown of earthly creation—what we designate as the “I-body” or the “I-being,” which we do not find in other earthly beings.

[ 9 ] Thus, theosophy teaches that we can only fully understand human beings when we conceive of them as composed of these four aspects of human nature. It further shows that when a person falls asleep, a separation of these aspects takes place: the physical body and the etheric body remain in bed, while the astral body and the “I” separate from them and ascend into a higher world. As long as the astral body and the “I” are separated from the physical and etheric bodies, human beings are organized in such a way that the horizon of consciousness remains dark. Hence the unconsciousness of sleep. In spiritual science, we speak of how only that part of the human being that is inclined toward the more sensory members—that is, the physical body and the denser part of the etheric body—is subject to temporal decay; whereas there is a human core consisting of the I, the astral body, and a part of the etheric body; upon death, this core of the being sheds the outer shell of the physical body and a part of the etheric body and continues its existence in the spiritual world under different conditions.

[ 10 ] Furthermore, in Theosophy we speak of the fact that human life does not merely extend from birth to death, but that the spiritual core of the human being undergoes repeated earthly lives in a physical body, as the forces belonging to the human being carry over from one life to the next. Everything we take in through our experiences in life between birth and death—through what we learn, everything we achieve, and everything we accomplish by burdening our soul with guilt or merit—all of this forms forces within our inner soul life; it is not erased when a person passes through the gate of death, but remains united with the human core. And after the core of the human being has processed these forces in a spiritual life between death and a new birth, a new existence is built up for the human being, both physically and in terms of destiny, so that in the life we now lead, we must see the results and effects of our previous lives within our earthly existence. Through our core being, we have fashioned our physical body in such a way that it now possesses this or that ability and can perform this or that action.

[ 11 ] This law, which places us in this or that location, in these or those circumstances, which shapes our destiny according to our past lives—this law of cause and effect, which extends from one life into the next—we in spiritual science refer to it by a term borrowed from Eastern literature—because we have no suitable expression for it in Western literature—the law of karma. With an essential core that is, however, initially unknown to normal consciousness, we have brought our fate upon ourselves. We thus speak of the fact that in successive earthly lives, human beings undergo—one might say—a chain of lives that extends beyond the temporal and testifies to the eternity of the human being.

[ 12 ] However, I have not addressed any evidence for these matters today; I have merely outlined the insights that form the most elementary level of the theosophical worldview. The evidence for reincarnation and karma will be discussed in the next lecture. Today, I shall merely point out that modern people—especially those with a solid scientific education—find it quite difficult to even gain access to the truths of Theosophy that I have just described.

[ 13 ] Now let us discuss some of the possible serious objections that may arise for all those people who have formed their worldview and outlook on life solely from the concepts and ideas of the present. For these people, it is initially extremely difficult even to conceive of the idea that the human soul can be guided, through practice, toward the possibility of attaining “spiritual senses”—if one may use this seemingly contradictory term.

[ 14 ] Let us assume that a person’s soul has undergone inner exercises, has attempted to train the powers of the will in such a way that it becomes capable of imagining something even when there are no external impressions; it has progressed so far in this process of internalization that it lives in the belief that, even when it perceives nothing through its eyes and ears, it still sees and hears something. What reason is there then—one might ask—to regard this as legitimate at all?—There is no need to object to the fact that a person, through certain inner exercises, can attain such inner experiences of the soul that possess a certain vitality, perhaps even a higher vitality, than external sensory impressions and than anything the intellect can grasp. But—as an opponent might say—are we not also familiar with what are called illusions and hallucinations? Are we not also familiar with the soul’s self-deceptions? Do not those who succumb to such self-deceptions of the soul—and in whose case one can speak of nothing other than mental illness—swear that they hear everything they hear as real voices and see what they see as reality? What reason is there to believe that the visions of someone who, through spiritual exercises, artificially guides their soul toward a different kind of experience have a different objective value?—That is what we must answer first.

[ 15 ] What is meant here by “spiritual science” is not pathological conditions, but rather something achieved through “artificial” spiritual exercises. What I have just said is actually trivial. But what matters is not whether such a statement is more or less trivial or insightful, but rather what it triggers in our souls, and how we relate to it with our faith and convictions. And here one must say: The conscientious seeker of truth today has many reasons to speak of such soul experiences in this way, and we understand that serious research rejects such notions. We need only remind ourselves how obvious it is to people today that serious scientific research was only able to exert its beneficial influence once all tendencies similar to those that also seem to be present in spiritual science had, so to speak, been suppressed. We need only look back to earlier periods of human development—indeed, we can go all the way back to the Middle Ages— and we could demonstrate how, everywhere, into what human beings perceived with their senses—and what they were able to investigate through the methods of their intellect—something was intermingled that they believed they experienced within themselves through inner mystical insight; and how sensory impressions were interwoven with what the soul experienced inwardly. After all, one need only glance once with the trained eye acquired through modern science at any medieval book on natural history to see what appear to modern people as quite strange, fantastical animals, and as a person of the present, one will soon recognize how all the insights and views of that time were based on the fact that people saw what they saw inaccurately and then further imagined it out based on what they experienced in their souls. By what means—a person today might ask—have these old, misleading viewpoints been overcome?—Through exact science, which has had such a beneficial effect solely because it has relied more and more on the experiences of the external senses and on what these teach our intellect through observation and experiment. We have had reliable scientific results only since the advent of research that allows anyone today to verify the findings at any time. Thus, people today are right to want to examine everything.

[ 16 ] Only those grounded in spiritual science or theosophy can raise any objections to this. If we look back to the dawn of our natural science—which is so rightly praised today—and consider a figure like Kepler, we will realize that Kepler’s mind was indeed inhabited not only by those external laws of celestial mechanics that we can study today as Kepler’s laws of the mechanical order of the heavens, but also by a genuine spiritual-scientific insight into the harmony of the world; it was from this spiritual permeation and lived experience of the world that his laws of the mechanical order of the heavens were first born. Someone grounded in spiritual science can say: Look how fruitful it is when we direct our spiritual-scientific gaze toward Kepler. Kepler’s laws practically prove the existence of a spiritual world; they bear witness to it. So Kepler can indeed convince us of the existence of a spiritual world!

[ 17 ] Now, an opponent might say that it is precisely in a mind like Kepler’s that one can see he did have certain weaknesses; in his case, one can see just how detrimental it is to scientific certainty when something like a certain mystical immersion in the relationships of the universe dwells within his soul; for this leads one back into medieval mysticism and thus into the realm of rather dubious intellectual pursuits, such as astrology with all its excesses.

[ 18 ] This arose precisely from the fact that people developed the idea of universal harmony in an abstract way and claimed that there must be a connection between the vast world of the macrocosm and what happens within the individual human being. This then gave rise to what is known as medieval astrology. Now, however, astrology does have a rather troubling side. Nothing stirs up human selfishness quite as much as astrology, especially when the course of the stars is used to predict what fortunate or unfortunate coincidences may befall a person. If a person wants to know these events in advance, there is always a selfish motive behind it, and among those who have their horoscopes drawn up, there is a veritable cultivation of selfishness. Kepler knew this, and it caused him great pain that he had to draw up horoscopes for many a high-ranking nobleman at the command of his prince. In a letter to a friend, Kepler once shared his distress at having to predict very specific things for a high-ranking figure. In this case, he said, it would be wrong to tell that person such things, and it would be better if they did not know, because otherwise they would not exert any care or show any initiative. – In another instance, he said one had to alert a person to the fact that a misfortune was imminent.

[ 19 ] An opponent might argue that even this singularly great mind exhibits a slight tendency toward a questionable moral stance when he says that, if one can determine the fate of human beings from the spiritual world, one must in a certain way lend a helping hand; one should not simply speak the truth in every instance, but must consider whether the truth is beneficial or harmful. In short, one can see in Kepler himself how a field related to spiritual science—astrology—leads precisely down the slippery slope. It is particularly tragic to witness in Kepler’s case how a path that, on the one hand, ascends into the purest and most noble realms of spiritual life can, on the other hand, lead into the wildest superstition. Kepler himself had to struggle against the most blatant superstitions of the Middle Ages to save his mother from being burned at the stake, because she had been accused of being a witch based on the superstitions of that time. Here we stand at a point where we can completely close the circle between what it means to gain insight into the spiritual world and the most blatant superstition to which the people of the Middle Ages were so easily susceptible. Who would not know how easily people who feel a need to become acquainted with the spiritual world want to do so in a convenient way even today, preferring to summon spirits in a dubious spiritualist manner and bring them into manifestation rather than raising themselves up into the spiritual world through spiritual development? Thus, an opponent might say: We see in Kepler proof that theosophical thinking, just like astrological thinking, can lead into questionable realms.

[ 20 ] We could cite many such examples. But even if we venture into a field not so far removed as astrology, it can be shown how the very idea of entering the spiritual world independently of all external experience can seem somewhat grotesque to the opponents of theosophy. We will point out just one example that may be typical of others.

[ 21 ] Anyone who, like me, has studied Hegel so thoroughly may also say the following: Hegel did, in fact, constantly strive for a worldview that is independent of all sensory perception. As long as one remains in the realm of the general—in a kind of vague pantheism—one can debate the validity of the individual. But if one claims to know something about the specific form of what emerges from the supersensible world, then one is obliged to allow oneself to be guided by the facts. Now, one of the first areas explored by spiritual research is the realm of numbers and their laws of harmony. Many philosophers have posited such laws, including Hegel. Hegel attempted to demonstrate that a certain law of numbers underlies our planetary system, and that according to this law of numbers, we ourselves can know that our solar system must have a certain number of planets, and that these move at specific intervals. In other words, Hegel believed that one should be able to verify the planetary system through inner contemplation. He therefore demonstrated that, according to the laws of numbers, only a certain number of planets are possible and that no others could exist beyond these. In this way, Hegel proved—based on the absolute necessity of the laws of numbers—that there were no other planets—at that time, the planet Neptune had not yet been discovered—and yet, the planet Neptune was subsequently found.

[ 22 ] We could cite examples of such things from all periods, for they follow the pattern just described. This precisely shows that not only are empirical observations a source of evidence for modern science, but that there must also be sound verification [through the facts]. Even when science adopts hypotheses, it accepts them only if experience confirms the theories. Now, the opponents of theosophy might say: Science has now established itself on a sound foundation; and now theosophical spiritual science comes along and wants to introduce into this science—which is based on experience—something that comes from entirely different sources: from a higher vision, from the laws of karma, and the like.

[ 23 ] The spiritual researcher might say: Yes, but you could at least meet me halfway by acknowledging that what I assert—for example, the doctrine of karma and repeated earthly lives—is what is known in scientific circles as a useful working hypothesis. – Back when the so-called vibrational theory of light first emerged, no one saw it as anything other than what might be called “ether vibrations.” There are many objections to this; the entire theory was a contrived system. When establishing this system, people reasoned: Let us assume that a universal ether permeates all material processes, that everything is in motion; then these oscillations must proceed according to mathematically calculable laws in such a way that this or that result follows. – And now it turned out that [the calculations] were indeed proven correct by experience, for example, in the case of light, heat, and so on. This is what is called a useful working hypothesis, when one says: This hypothesis is even useful to us for discovering new facts; even if the hypothesis itself is false, it has nevertheless led us precisely to the truth.

[ 24 ] “Why not,” the spiritual researcher might say to the opponents of theosophy, “accept the idea of karma and reincarnation as a working hypothesis!”

[ 25 ] One might now object: When dealing with matters so fundamental and important—matters that have such a profound impact on life—one cannot simply accept the possibility that external life can be explained by making certain hypothetical assumptions. Anyone who has studied logic in any depth knows that one can draw correct conclusions even from false premises. Theosophy could therefore be entirely wrong, even if one assumes that the idea of karma and repeated earthly lives is correct. The conclusions regarding external life could be correct—even if the premises were false. – That, however, is what strict, concise logic might say; but this would rule out recognizing theosophical ideas even as useful working hypotheses.

[ 26 ] And from an epistemological standpoint, the situation is even worse. An opponent of theosophy might say: In the pursuit of knowledge, the most important thing is to investigate objective validity. Now, in the case of illusions, hallucinations, and the entire inner life of the soul, there is absolutely no other way to distinguish between truth and falsehood than through verification by experience. If experience is ruled out and the inner life of the soul is to proceed without [verification by] experience, then one enters the realm of absolute arbitrariness, of the uncontrollable. This means that a science that seeks the principle of controllability must regard the entire method of higher perception as unjustified, and it must agree with contemporary science, which states: What is to be considered scientifically valid must be conceived independently of all inner, subjective experiences; it must unfold in such a way that, in describing it, we can exclude everything that belongs to our inner life.

[ 27 ] But you say—as a modern epistemologist might say to a spiritual scientist—that you want to remain within your inner spiritual life and isolate it; that is, you are entering the very realm that science has excluded. Modern science has, after all, shown that it has arrived at its reliable results precisely by proceeding in such a way as to exclude all subjective experiences. So one must say to the Theosophists: Just do not bring into science what are merely rehashed, outdated methods that have been overcome since the beginning of modern research in the 15th, 16th, and 17th centuries.

[ 28 ] This is how the mind—the feelings—of a person who approaches spiritual science from the perspective of the modern age might speak. But one can go even deeper and ask: Is there any possibility at all of claiming that what a person who has attained a higher level of perception sees has any significance for other people as well? – Here, however, spiritual science says: This higher vision is part of seeking out the supersensible world and exploring its truths; but once the truths of the supersensible world have been discovered and are then recounted and communicated, they can be grasped by any unbiased logic and by any natural sense of truth. Just as not everyone is able to go into a laboratory to learn about the methods of biology, zoology, and so on, yet can still accept the results of this research, so too—according to spiritual science—can what is researched in the realm of the supersensible world be accepted and understood.

[ 29 ] One might now ask: Is such a claim by spiritual science justified? It would be justified only if what the spiritual scientist has to say could be understood by us according to the model we have formed for understanding in the sensory, ordinary scientific world. So, for example, the spiritual researcher says: Our present life between birth and death is structured as an effect resulting from the causes of past lives; past lives extend into our present life. What I now experience as happiness or unhappiness, as my abilities, my strengths, my hopes, and my sense of security in life—I experience it this way because I laid the causes for it in past lives. I must learn to view this present life as the effect of those causes that were laid in past lives.

[ 30 ] In response, an opponent might say: We see such things in the external world as well—that we trace effects back to causes and that we recognize how something that came first lives on as an effect in something that came later. Let us take an example that plays a major role in modern natural science. There is the law that, during embryonic development before birth, the human being briefly passes through all the forms that certain animals undergo in the course of their development—from imperfect stages to more perfect ones. We know that during embryonic development—beginning around the eighteenth day after conception—the human being passes through a stage that, in its outward form, virtually mimics the form of a fish; later, it passes through other forms, gradually growing into the forms in which it is born. From this, natural science concludes that what the outer, physical human being is descends from the more imperfect living beings, and that the form of the more imperfect living beings continues to exert an influence—a residual effect—in what the human being is before birth. Here, then, we see those forms at work that we observe in the line of descent. You, as a researcher of the spirit, must therefore show us that there is indeed something alive in human life—as it unfolds between birth and death—in the soul-spiritual realm and in human destiny, from which one can discern the origin of earlier causes, just as one recognizes, in the prenatal development of the human being, the lineage in which he assumes animal forms.

[ 31 ] Now, however, spiritual research can step in and show how certain inner soul processes—which take on an individual form for each person—cannot at all be explained as the product of heredity from father and mother, grandfather and grandmother; how, in other words, a person’s innermost core of being gives them something other than what the hereditary line provides. And when one then traces how human life develops from the moment of birth, hour by hour, day by day, week by week, year by year—as the human being gradually grows up—one sees how one power after another emerges, one ability after another crystallizes; and if one has a keen eye, one can already recognize through external signs: This was not initially given to the human being merely by heredity, nor merely by upbringing, but has emerged from the inner individuality present in every single human being; this is added to what is inherited, and if it is not to dissolve into mere miracles, it must stem from other causes, which can only be traced back to a spiritual-soul life that the human being has already experienced in the past. The causes for this can be found neither in heredity nor in upbringing.

[ 32 ] Such a conclusion is possible. And the spiritual researcher can say: What I know from spiritual vision, I can make understandable through the kind of logic I have just described.

[ 33 ] To this, an opponent might say: Many things occur in life between birth and death that would not be considered miraculous if one were to consider only ordinary circumstances. Anyone who looks more deeply into life using scientific methods knows what an immense influence the very earliest childhood experiences have on a soul—how anything we experienced in the first year, even with only half-conscious awareness, made a certain impression on our soul at that time and burrowed its way into it. It lies hidden there, but when the right occasion arises, it emerges, and we might easily believe—when we see it surface later and cannot attribute it to our upbringing or to heredity—that it must be explained by a previous life. But we do this simply because we do not pay attention to how the earliest experiences of youth become embedded in the soul and how these, in particular, have a much greater significance than anything that comes later. Therefore, conventional science might say: We have not yet progressed far enough in our study of childhood to be able to say how the experiences of the first few years shape the child’s soul; we must wait until we delve deeper and deeper into this field; then many things that you spiritual researchers claim can be explained by past lives will in fact be explainable by events that unfold in a completely natural way in the life between birth and death.

[ 34 ] Yes, the opponent can go much further. For example, they might say: Even those people who, through inner spiritual exercises, attain spiritual vision and higher insight must—in order to be understood—express what they perceive in a higher world using the forms and symbols of outer, physical reality. And what is very strange is this: Those people who have, so to speak, become clairvoyant—the opponent might say—express themselves in entirely different ways! At the turn of the 18th and 19th centuries, no one in the spiritual world saw anything related to, for example, electricity or railroads; now people in the spiritual worlds see things related to electricity or railroads. Who, then, would not doubt that this involves an unconscious influx of things into the soul, which are transformed in such a way that these illusory spiritual experiences arise! And there is nothing that could, before a scientific conscience, justify the claims of those who speak of an ascent into spiritual, into supersensory worlds. The more closely one looks, the more the ideas of a past life, karma, and so on crumble away. It is precisely things like early childhood experiences that should be repeatedly pointed out whenever something like the idea of karma is put forward.

[ 35 ] Now, one might well say of spiritual science: Just look at this—a couple has three or four children, and each child is endowed with different characteristics. If everything is to be attributed to heredity, then it is difficult to understand why not all children of the same parents have the same characteristics, since they are descended from the same father and the same mother. This, precisely, shows us—as many defenders of spiritual science would say—that an individual essence has been born into what a person has inherited, and this explains the differences.

[ 36 ] In response, the opponent need only say: What is inherited is, after all, inherited from both parents—or even from earlier generations. It is therefore not merely a matter of direct inheritance, but rather the various characteristics [of the ancestors] are intermixed. Why, then, should there not be a different combination for every child, since the mixing of various types of heritable traits can give rise to the most diverse individualities each time? And if one could look into the complex structure of heredity—so the opponent might say—all the claims of spiritual researchers who adopt the viewpoint of repeated earthly lives would be silenced. And if, to support the idea of reincarnation, theosophical literature specifically points out that even twins exhibit different characteristics, the opponent might again say: Everything that can be demonstrated in this way among children of different ages applies all the more to twins.

[ 37 ] Others say that, in order to prove the doctrine of repeated earthly lives, human beings demonstrate, at the core of their inner being, a conscience—an inner moral responsibility. If one feels responsible for an action one performs, then one must still be able to hold a different view of one’s actions than simply having performed them; one must therefore attribute to human beings an origin other than that of the hereditary line alone. Certain theosophical writers interpret conscience, responsibility, and similar concepts in such a way that they become evidence for the individual human core of being that persists through various earthly lives. – One need only point out that conscience, responsibility, and so on have already been explained by astute researchers as resulting from the fact that human beings have developed slowly and gradually within human society. For example, it is easy to demonstrate, in the case of conscience, that human beings observe how certain actions bring them specific disadvantages. As a result, the concepts of the action and the ensuing disadvantage are linked in the soul; this becomes ingrained in the soul, so that it ultimately gives rise to the judgment: “You must not do this!” – If we imagine this being transformed into an impulse and this impulse being inherited, then through pure succession we have a conscience in the descendants. And again—as the opponent might object—it is superficial to use the fact of conscience as a basis for asserting the existence of an inner core of human being that passes through various earthly lives.

[ 38 ] Seen from the outside, some things might appear to those who do not look closely as if they cannot be proven. And it is especially fitting for a spiritual researcher to listen carefully to the difficulties that conscientious people in particular face when they seek to approach spiritual science. For what has been said today is precisely an obstacle and a hindrance for conscientious people; they cannot get past it.

[ 39 ] Let us go further and examine how an opponent might pose the question: What is the state of spiritual science in the realm of morality and ethics? It is commonly said in theosophy: What kind of moral impulse must this give a person when they hear that their present life is brought about by causes laid down by the core of their human being—that is, by themselves—in a previous life, and that through what they do now, they are laying the causes for their future life. What, then, is the nature of such a person’s moral views? An opponent might ask this. And he will say: Such a person can easily be led to tell himself, regarding a bad deed: “If you do it, you will carry it over into the next life, and you will bring punishment upon yourself in the next life.” – Under such an impulse, certain actions will be refrained from. But what kind of impulse is this? It is the most selfish impulse there can be—when a person does good because it brings him effects in the next life that he can wish for, and when he refrains from evil because it brings him effects that must be quite unpleasant and disastrous for him. This, then, is what is meant by addressing human selfishness when one refers a person to karma and tells them: “Through this or that action, you are sowing bad causes for future effects!”—Where, then, is the grand principle that what is morally right is only that which lives by the principle of doing good for the sake of good? If someone who believes in karma tells themselves, “I will do something that may bring me harm in this life—but only because it will bring me benefit in a future life,” then in such a case the good is not done for the sake of the good at all; rather, human selfishness is being stoked in the most subtle way.

[ 40 ] Or let’s assume that a person lives deeply under the influence of this belief: Whatever happiness or misfortune I experience, I have brought upon myself in the past; I must accept it and must not complain. – Such an attitude—an opponent might say—will take root as fatalism, in that a person attributes everything that happens to them to actions they themselves have committed in the past; and instead of pulling themselves together and actively intervening in life, they will simply rely on the principle: “You brought this upon yourself!” – Which will then lead a theosophist, if he is weak, to say to himself: Why should I pull myself together? My karma has made me weak; there are good reasons for this in a past life. – This gives rise to the most dreadful fatalism. From this we can see, then, how egoism and fatalism can be cited by opponents as arguments that weigh most heavily against the moral principle of Theosophy.

[ 41 ] If we now wish to consider how Theosophy must function in religious life if it is to lead to a religious understanding of the world, then we see how leaders of the Theosophical movement define Theosophy as a kind of religion of wisdom—as something that is meant to lead from knowledge and insight into the realm of religion. Religion cannot exist without what might be called a living Spirit that permeates and animates the world—regardless of whether one conceives of this Spirit as a multitude of spirits or as a single one. Without the living Spirit that truly dwells within phenomena and facts, that surge of feeling and emotion necessary for a genuine religious life cannot take hold in the soul. This turning toward the spiritual—as an opponent might object—this devotion to an external spiritual reality, in which one sees the source of earthly events and in which one finds one’s own destiny interwoven, is clouded by the fact that human beings are dependent on faith in a human individuality that flows from one life into the next, and one is further compelled to discern everything pertaining to religious life within one’s own individuality—that is, to relate it to oneself. Thus are undermined that expansion of the heart and that opening of the mind that are present when a person not only looks within but can also look up to something divine to which he belongs, in which he has a share, and with which he stands in a living relationship.

[ 42 ] If we were to summarize all the arguments that can be raised against theosophy, [an opponent] might say that, from both a moral and a religious standpoint, theosophy leaves much to be desired. This is evident in particular in the fact that people who are inwardly undisciplined in their spiritual lives or who are endowed from the outset with a lax scientific conscience gradually develop quite peculiar impulses toward life. One sees—and this may apply to all followers of theosophy, as observations show—that when people engage with theosophical truths, they lose interest in fresh, full life and thus precisely in what we as human beings are meant to pursue in life; one sees that they withdraw from the immediate concerns of the external world. Then they would ponder what had brought them into life and even begin, little by little, to despise external reality, feeling at ease only when they no longer wanted anything from the external world.

[ 43 ] I want to speak only of what opponents of theosophy could rightly point out. They could rightly point out that numerous theosophists, with a laxer scientific sense of truth, become unfit for all the tasks required by a strong, healthy life, because they lead a life that is not rich and full of substance, that does not offer immediate points of engagement with life; that they become eccentrics, people who cannot cope with life and prove to be internally disharmonious. Such people are produced by theosophy!—so the opponent might say. And the opponent could point to examples, of which there are indeed no small number. Furthermore, one could point out how the lack of control through external experiences can become quite serious when a person who wishes to create spiritual eyes and ears within themselves—and has acquired only the longing for inner vision—has not trained themselves in a strictly precise sense of truth. If a person has not cultivated within themselves such a sense of truth and such an impulse toward truth as exist when external experience controls us, then the spiritually perceiving person—the so-called clairvoyant—can stray far from inner control, which must be all the more significant when external control is lacking. Here it becomes clear how easy it is for a person to fall into initially unconscious untruths and errors, and subsequently into conscious untruths—even lies—whose implications they fail to grasp because they cannot distinguish illusion from truth.

[ 44 ] And this is why the need to look into the spiritual world presupposes that human beings are fundamentally grounded in truth and morality. It becomes clear why this has become such a profound problem, as Goethe, for example, expressed it in his *Faust*. There stands before us the character Faust, the typical human being who wants to enter the spiritual world and expand his individual life, but who, despite his most conscientious efforts, has countless opportunities to stray, and who, having nearly completed his life’s journey, utters the weighty words: “If only I could remove magic from my path!” —This is how tragic a commitment to spiritual research can become.

[ 45 ] But we must not view the human soul merely in theoretical terms; we must view it in the fullness of life. And only experience itself can teach us the necessary lessons in this regard. No matter how much one may argue that our soul must be of a certain nature if it is to follow spiritual research—one can know with absolute certainty: theoretical propositions are one thing, and soul impulses are quite another. In theory, everything may be entirely logical, and yet the soul—if it has not established certainty within itself—can still stray onto the paths of error described. Opponents are right to point out such things, which exist in the most varied forms. This can show us that we must not take objections lightly, for anyone can find such objections on the street.

[ 46 ] In spiritual science or theosophy, you can find the suggestion that an individual core of being lives within human beings. It is shown there that a biography is possible only for human beings, because only human beings have that unique, individual course of life that makes a biography possible. A biography is possible for the greatest person as well as for the least. We show the same interest in the individual human being as we do in an entire species of animal in the animal kingdom. We show the same interest in the individual human being as we do in the lion father, the lion son, the lion grandson, and so on. It is a flimsy objection when someone says: “But the individual lion also has a biography, and one could just as easily write a biography of a dog or a cat.”—Certainly one could. When I was a schoolboy, our teacher once made us write the biography of our pen. One can, of course, apply anything to anything, but one must still consider what constitutes the essence of a thing. No scholar of the human mind would claim that a dog or a cat cannot possess a sum of individual characteristics. It is merely said that the same interest we, as human beings, fundamentally extend to an individual human being, we extend to the entire species in the case of animals; our interest in an animal may even be greater than in a human being, but it is not the same kind of interest we show toward humans. The kind of interest we have toward an individual human being is the same kind we have toward the animal species. Therefore, we must say: Every human being is his or her own species.

[ 47 ] It is another matter entirely whether we are dealing with genuine opponents of theosophy or with those who cannot get past the difficulties presented to us by all of our contemporary thinking and feeling, as well as by all of our modern science. Some of these objections should be listed today. Of course, we could continue talking until tomorrow morning and could expand on the objections in greater detail. And I am aware that I have not even listed the most important objections. I have merely shown how one can draw upon the fields of epistemology, morality, ethics, religion, and the certainty of life when seeking to present counterarguments against theosophy.

[ 48 ] Perhaps the most beautiful aspect of culture that can emerge from the humanities is learning to practice genuine tolerance. Genuine tolerance can only be practiced if one has an understanding of different kinds of individuality, of different ways of thinking, and of different ways of feeling. As long as we listen to the objections raised by our opponents, they can inspire us—provided we do not take a superficial stance toward them, but are able to find within ourselves what the opponent is bringing forward. When we, so to speak, make a part of ourselves into our opponent in order to deal with the legitimate objections, then we are practicing theosophical tolerance.

[ 49 ] In this manner, the theosophist should always be prepared to address any other objections that might be raised by opponents. Both adherents and opponents should bear this in mind: with that absolute opposite of fanaticism—which must be an impulse for the theosophical attitude—one should approach an opponent in such a way that one always asks oneself: What weight do his objections carry? —Therefore, the theosophist is not surprised by any objection whatsoever. The theosophical spiritual movement can only continue in the right way if such an inner engagement with every opponent can take place.

[ 50 ] That this is a challenge with which our own time also grapples becomes evident when one repeatedly finds oneself believing that opponents are simply unable to grasp the weight and significance of their objections. One need not share Eduard von Hartmann’s point of view and yet can still see in his *Philosophy of the Unconscious* something quite significant that raised weighty objections to a certain materialistically colored treatment of scientific facts. When Eduard von Hartmann published his *Philosophy of the Unconscious* in 1869, opposing voices against Eduard von Hartmann emerged everywhere amid the then-burgeoning Darwinism. What was put forward was always tinged with the implication that people were saying: Here speaks a philosopher, a person who knows absolutely nothing about scientific facts—a dilettante; therefore, we can simply move on to the next item on the agenda. – And one treatise after another was published against this “dilettantish” work by Eduard von Hartmann. Among these various critical writings against the *Philosophy of the Unconscious* was one by an anonymous author, *The Unconscious from the standpoint of the Theory of Descent and Darwinism*, which was considered particularly insightful. It was truly a compelling refutation of everything that had been put forward in the “Philosophy of the Unconscious”; it was so compelling that a prominent biographer of Darwin said: It is a pity that this man did not reveal his name—the man who wrote this treatise against Hartmann’s dilettantism, a treatise written entirely in the spirit of truly scientific natural research! – And another naturalist wrote that the anonymous author should reveal his name, for he was one of their own. This treatise spread rapidly; it sold out quickly and went into a second printing. Now the author revealed his identity: it was Eduard von Hartmann himself, who had thereby demonstrated, in his own way, how one must be cautious about what one believes to be the sole absolute truth, and that one should not regard an opponent as foolish or amateurish simply because he holds a different opinion, for it could very well be that the author is well aware of the objections.

[ 51 ] However, theosophists should not merely be aware of the objections [to theosophy]; rather, in a certain sense, it is their theosophical duty to address these objections. Now that we have allowed some of these objections to take effect on our souls today, let us see in the next lecture what this field looks like from the other side—the reverse side of which we have more or less shown today. And let us see whether there are compelling reasons for the opponents when they claim: Let us be satisfied with this Theosophy, for it is not only unscientific, but it contradicts every higher morality, it establishes an inadequate ethic, it offers no security in life, and it is thoroughly inadequate from a religious standpoint.

[ 52 ] Or could there perhaps be something else that shows just how erroneous all these objections really are? However, we do not wish to treat these objections as if we simply wanted to dismiss them as errors, but rather in a way that allows us to learn from them. It is difficult for some of our contemporaries to find their way into theosophy. But perhaps it could also serve as an exemplary lesson for some who become adherents of Theosophy too readily to reflect on such difficulties. For even the path to the stars can be a rough one, and it might be good if we simply allowed it to be quite rough, rather than making it too comfortable for ourselves.

[ 53 ] In the next lecture, we will discuss how human beings can find their way into this world of spiritual stars, and how they need not succumb to the objections outlined today, but can instead overcome them.