The Rudolf Steiner Archive

12. The Humanities and the Natural Sciences in Their Relationship to the Mysteries of Life

[ 1 ] When speaking of the mysteries of existence from the perspective that was [characterized] here yesterday, one question in particular must arise for every person of the present who has in any way come close to such a consideration; it is the question: How does what spiritual science—as understood here—has to say relate to the current findings of natural science, which over the course of the last few centuries have led humanity’s spiritual life from triumph to triumph and have resulted in the fact that, fundamentally speaking, everything around us today appears to be a result, a fruit of natural science? Not only is external, material existence completely permeated by what natural science has given us, but scientific thinking has also gradually penetrated human thought, feeling, and sensation—the entire human spiritual life—coloring it to such an extent that one can say: Anyone who today wishes to speak about the question of spiritual life and would thereby have to contradict the current findings of natural science could, from the outset, be accorded very little credence. Natural science has provided a body of knowledge which, through its intrinsic value—through its relationship to the human-natural sense of truth and to common sense—penetrates our soul so deeply that one must rightly say: There must be an error somewhere if a worldview felt compelled to contradict these scientific findings. Now, the worldview to be presented here is in full harmony with the well-founded findings of contemporary scientific research, although it must, of course, go beyond these findings in almost every respect when it comes to bringing the great question of existence—the profound mystery of life—closer to a solution. And what, then, are these great mysteries of existence? They are not the ones that impose themselves through one scientific observation or another; the greatest mysteries of the world do not impose themselves on human beings merely through science, but they present themselves at every turn in life; they stand, so to speak, before our soul at every moment; and we can essentially summarize these mysteries of existence in two [questions]. Although what is meant here by “spiritual science” is by no means exhausted in these two questions, it must nevertheless be said that, ultimately, for the sake of human interest—for what human beings actually seek from spiritual science—all these spiritual-scientific considerations ultimately point to the two great enigmatic questions, which can be described, on the one hand, by the term: the mystery of death, which is at the same time the mystery of life, and on the other hand, the mystery of fate; the mystery of death, which is at the same time the mystery of fate. Certainly, ladies and gentlemen, this mystery—[the mystery of death]—presents itself to human beings out of their hopes, their desires, and perhaps also out of their anxiety and fear. [Oppressive], looming, it stands before the human soul—what follows once the soul has passed through the gate of death; the question arises: what is it that within the soul can withstand the transitory existence of the body, what might be described as the imperishable in contrast to the transient? Scientifically, however, this question is not posed in the way it usually arises from the soul—where, in concern for the soul’s fate after death, the solution to the question presents itself in a certain sense, even if one does not admit it to oneself. [A person tells themselves]: It would be unbearable to think of the annihilation of existence [after death], when one conjures up all manner of sophistical arguments [for the survival of the soul] in the face of the body’s decay. In contrast, however, it must be emphasized that those people who, in the course of the nineteenth century, went so far as to say that it is a special kind of selfishness for a person to demand that the contents of their soul should endure beyond death deserve a certain respect. Certain noble souls, even if they think in material terms, find it more selfless to say: What I have earned, what I have absorbed into my soul, I surrender to human life as a whole; I sacrifice it on the altar of the human community. And so, in a certain sense, this [attitude] must be regarded as nobler than that which, out of fear and dread, out of hope and desire, constructs a belief in immortality.

[ 2 ] But the mystery of death comes from an entirely different angle, and this is truly the mystery of human life—where one reflects on the economy of the world, where one reflects on what becomes of the accumulated forces that have once come to light in the world. A person acquires—and one can view this quite impersonally—in the course of their life, from year to year, from week to week, a certain [inner] spiritual content; who could deny that in a normal person this content continues to grow [as one ages, becoming ever richer], becomes ever more inner, and is ever more permeated with energy. To those who believe that the content of the soul must be passed on to the entire [human] race, the following question must be posed: Is it truly [at all] possible to give away the very best—that which a person has become within themselves? For that [which a person must take in in order to develop his or her soul in a wholly personal way] is something so intimately connected with individual life that it is impossible to give it to the general public. We can give many things to the general public, but it is impossible to give away what is most intimately one’s own; and precisely this most essential element—which can be attained only through personality, only through individuality—would have to fade away, would have to pass into nothingness, if the life of the human soul were to vanish as an individual soul entity at the very moment the gate of death closes. Thus, from the perspective of the economy of life, this question arises quite objectively.

[ 3 ] The second question that arises as a mystery of life, one that confronts us at every turn, [is that of fate]; it is this: [We see] that a person is surrounded by hardship and misery from the cradle onward, and that this will never change; this enigma of fate confronts us even more starkly when we see someone growing up with limited abilities and must conclude: He will be of little use to society. Another, surrounded by every kind of worry from the cradle onward—[so that we foresee]: He may become a significant member of society. These are questions that may not greatly occupy the theoretical mind; they are questions that, in a certain sense, ordinary science cannot even begin to address; but should it not be just as necessary to raise these questions as it is for other sciences to seek to answer them? These questions concern not merely the theoretical mind, but the whole of human life. [Inner happiness, inner stability], inner security, and an inner joy in working throughout life depend on the answer a person can give himself here. Anyone who believes he can dismiss these questions will observe, in the course of his life, that something occurs which he cannot explain as though it stemmed from this very question; Uncertainty, nervousness, and a sense of instability can arise if one fails to find perspectives for a solution to this question. When spiritual science approaches this question, it cannot merely draw on the findings of the natural sciences; it must go beyond them in every respect; we shall see why. But in going beyond these findings of natural science—as spiritual science, as understood here, does—it preserves—and this it must do in the spirit of the modern age—the same discipline of thought and feeling, [of research], the same way of approaching the world that is found in natural science. Oh, my esteemed audience, this has shown us yet another result: it has [brought about over the course of the last century] a certain education of human thought, and this education is spreading. Anyone seeking a worldview today must not sin against this education of human thought. Although even those who do not wish to concern themselves with the natural sciences may stand apart, anyone who wishes to penetrate our culture must be able to justify [this] in the face of the legitimate demands of the natural sciences. [Whatever seeks to take hold of our culture must be able to stand up to legitimate reasoning]. On the other hand, however, we see a longing to move beyond all traditions toward something in the direction indicated [regarding these questions], and we see, particularly among thinking natural scientists, that what is so widely and justifiably believed today is by no means regarded as sufficient. Many hundreds of examples could be cited [that show] how today’s thinking natural scientists, in particular, are striving toward a worldview that can provide precisely what people are seeking.

[ 4 ] To cite just one of many examples: Consider a speech delivered on July 22, 1909, by the man who served as president of Harvard University in the United States for forty years—a naturalist and a chemist, Charles Eliot—a man of great character—he spoke at that time of the necessity of moving beyond the natural sciences to address the great question of the soul, and he presented to his audience as a matter of course what he wished to express as the existence of an independent spiritual life alongside physical life. He said: “Human beings have always attributed to one another an independent soul, a spirit that has its essence within itself—as human beings experience themselves when they seek to know themselves, as human beings know themselves to be—[something separate from the body].” – But it is precisely the way in which such a man attempts to move beyond the habits of scientific thought toward the spiritual that can teach us how necessary a special spiritual science is for the question at hand. When one follows Eliot’s arguments, one actually arrives at a strange thought. Although he takes it for granted that there is a soul separate from the body, he [nevertheless] speaks of it [only] in this way: Yes, the soul is simply there. — Soul, soul, and always just soul. What would it be like if he were to apply the same approach to the field of natural science? It would be as if one were not concerned with this plant or these laws, but rather sought to construct the entire external natural process by saying: “Nature exists.”—The natural scientist [does not content himself with this]; he delves into [the details], the individual laws, and their specific, concrete existence.

[ 5 ] [Spiritual science does the same. It focuses on the soul and seeks to penetrate the spiritual world and come to know supersensible beings and realities. ] And this will be the task of spiritual science in the future: to be able to delve into the details of spiritual life just as natural science does. Many people today still refuse to accept that it is possible to penetrate the spiritual world and come to know the supersensible beings there—beings that never take on a physical form. This is precisely the task of spiritual science; in undertaking this, it proceeds in its field using the same method as natural science does in its own. It is the similarity of the approach that matters. Let us take, for example, someone who wants to observe the life of a plant—how it grows, how it produces leaves and flowers, and finally the fruit. Is a person satisfied simply with seeing how plant growth comes to an end? No; upon reaching that point, they say to themselves: The seed is both the end of plant growth and, at the same time, the beginning of a new plant. End and beginning are linked together, and we then see the entire life—the one life—at work when we are able to connect the end with the beginning.

[ 6 ] Spiritual science does exactly the same thing, [only applied to the soul]. It is important to note how fruitful such a perspective is, fundamentally speaking, in relation to ordinary everyday life. Nothing can illustrate the fruitfulness of such a perspective more clearly than reflecting on the words of a great man who devoted much of his life to the mysteries of the maturing soul—the words of Goethe. Goethe said: “In old age, one becomes a mystic.” He did not intend to present a dry theory; he wanted to present [a life experience], a way of life; he wanted to say: That which one has acquired in the course of one’s life—regardless of where one stood, what has become the content of the soul, what one has, in essence, become oneself [so that I have gradually become not only richer but also more mature]—that has matured inwardly; it has taken on an inner energy, [it] detaches itself more and more from external life, so that it gains more and more [in] independence. We see, even in relative youth, how everything that lives within us seeks to translate into action; but we also know how something is increasingly taking shape within the soul—something the soul regards as its own content to be experienced in solitude, through which it builds, in a certain sense, a world of its own, apart from the external world. This deepened inner life, brought about by the emergence of a higher human being who intervenes in external activity—that is what Goethe meant by his statement. One becomes inner, soul-spiritually inner. There, within our soul life, something similar takes place to what occurs externally and sensually in a plant, in which the leaves and flowers gradually wither and the seed separates. What separates physically and sensually there—and what becomes the starting point for a new plant life—has its analogy in what detaches itself soulfully and inwardly, in what Goethe wished to draw attention to: that the human being becomes a mystic, and this spiritual-soul aspect is an accumulated force. One proceeds entirely according to the scientific method when one connects this to the beginning of the human body, and when one does so, it must be done in such a way that one sees how, as with a child when it enters existence, what later comes to light in the course of life is gradually developed from unknown depths. I have already said here that anyone who observes a human being growing from birth in such a way as to believe that everything that unfolds comes from the hereditary line proceeds just as inaccurately as people did, say, in the sixteenth century, when many people—including scholars—believed that a physical living being —lower animals, earthworms—could develop from [mere] river mud. It was a great achievement that Francesco Redi pointed out in the seventeenth century how this was based on inaccurate observation and that all living things arise only from living things.

[ 7 ] Just as Redi behaved back then, so does the spiritual researcher behave in relation to the spiritual-soul realm. He shows that it is a mistake to assume only the physical, the hereditary line, but that in truth one must see a spiritual-soul aspect unfolding into the spiritual-soul realm. One then sees how, in fact, the spiritual-soul aspect plays a more significant role in the early days of childhood than in later life. No matter how proud a person may be of the intellectual and spiritual abilities they have developed, they are not [any longer] wise enough later in life to accomplish what must take place in early childhood. The brain must first be made malleable; the “I” must work immensely harder to develop a very specific ability. [A spiritual-soul core works on the development of abilities.] There one sees: just as one watches a new plant develop from a seed, so one can watch what crystallizes into new abilities in a new human life emerge from the still malleable substance. [This is exactly the same perspective as in the natural sciences.] From a meaningful view of life, this leads to the concept of repeated earthly lives. [An inner core works on the physical body.] We see the spiritual-soul core of the human being pass through the gate of death, withdrawn from human perception, and then re-emerge, working upon its physical body until it has brought it to a certain state—but what is that state? What is this? The materialist will say: It is a sum of material processes from which the spiritual-soul aspect then develops. Anyone who thinks that the spiritual human being can develop out of processes arising from the physical has no sense for contemplating what inner soul life is. Anyone who does have this sense, [who wishes to characterize it], may first have to resort to an image in order to construct the relationship between the soul and the body. This image could be the following: When we walk along a wall and find mirrors hanging at various points on it, we go there and always see ourselves in the mirror; we cannot see ourselves unless we look at our reflection in the mirror. But it would never occur to anyone to regard this mirror image as their very own being, and it depends very much on the mirror whether and what is seen. Just as a person stands before a mirror, where the mirror’s surface merely reflects what the person is, so too does spiritual and soul life relate to physical and bodily life. The physical and bodily is not a dead mirror, but a living mirror; yet it is like a mirror that enables us to know something of the spiritual and soul life. But when we are asleep at night, we do not look at ourselves in this mirror. The deeper one delves into an everyday observation of the life of the soul, the more one will perceive how the spiritual-psychic realm, once it has become independent, becomes aware of itself as in a mirror. But as long as we have not yet attained this independence—in the early years of childhood—and as long as we remain unconscious of it, our spiritual-soul aspect works specifically on our physical-material aspect, first making it malleable so that we can recognize ourselves. Thus we see that through what we have worked out in a previous life, we become the architects of our present life.

[ 8 ] Another perspective on life can shed light on the question of fate. A person who has the right sense of self-reflection will, when looking back on their life, ask themselves: Would you have become who you are if this or that fate had not befallen you? Only a superficial view of life can separate one from what has shaped one as fate, and when one traces one’s life back [to birth], one will—since one cannot assume that what becomes self-aware [the inner self] began in childhood—say to oneself: “So it must have been the case much earlier.” – One reaches back beyond one’s consciously experienced destiny into earlier times; one recognizes oneself as the architect of one’s destiny, and one is not far from the thought that one has also brought about one’s destiny in its causes from previous lives.

[ 9 ] Only if one does not examine life thoroughly can one be dissatisfied with such a view. One might say: This worldview turns the very thing that causes people such pain and suffering into something they have crafted for themselves. – But one is dissatisfied only when one looks at the surface; the more one realizes that one has crafted one’s own fate, the more one comes to terms with it, [the more satisfied one is]. It’s just that one isn’t always a true observer of one’s own fate. [A harsh fate is often a necessity for progress.] Let’s suppose someone has lived recklessly, relying entirely on his father’s pocket money until the age of eighteen; then the father loses his fortune, and the young man must work to support himself—he is forced to lead a different life. He will rightly regard this as a bad fate; but once the man has reached the age of fifty, he will say: Thank God; I would have become a good-for-nothing; my misery back then made me a decent person. This shows that fate is a necessary stage in our development. Thus, what one might perceive as a criticism of this worldview could perhaps be summarized, so to speak, by saying: Once one is able to judge objectively what it means to have brought hardship and misery upon oneself, [one will not be dissatisfied], one will not see only misery in it, but will see [necessary] factors of development [in it].

[ 10 ] But is there—still setting aside findings from the humanities proper—[a possibility] to imagine that a connection exists between the deepest core of the human soul, [what one is], and [what one experiences as] fate? Such an analogy also occurs in the natural sciences. One need only ask: Can a mountain plant thrive on the plain? It is placed [by its very nature] in the appropriate environment. [There is a certain force of attraction between the mountain plants and their environment.] In the same way, the human being is placed within his destiny, for that is where he is meant to flourish. Thus, there is always an inner bond of attraction between what he brings with him from a previous life and the life that follows. We remain [always] within the patterns of thought of the natural sciences—and even within the spiritual sciences—when we answer the riddle of death: that the human being passes through the gate of death, leads a purely spiritual life until he re-enters life through birth; [we see a spiritual-soul core forming in the present life and perfecting itself in the spiritual world] . Thus, we do not view immortality as an infinite line, but rather we see immortality, as it were, composed of individual links, and we perceive from the very nature of the spiritual-soul aspect how the destiny of the human being is explained by this passage of the spiritual-soul core through the various lives, [earthly life and spiritual life]. This is already evident from a purely external view of life. But when one proceeds to the pure spiritual-scientific method, what might be regarded as a belief—if understood as it has just been expounded—is fully confirmed.

[ 11 ] Yesterday it was shown how the spiritual researcher is capable of developing higher powers within himself. [Only those who have developed their souls can become spiritual researchers.] There are various aspects to this. Some were already mentioned yesterday. Of course, what a person experiences in this process cannot be fully covered—even in outline form—during the course of a single lecture; but specific aspects can be hinted at, and attention can be drawn to an important point that I have already attempted to describe in [my] book [*How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?* and in] *A Path to Self-Knowledge for Humanity*. Reference has been made to a discovery made by those who pursue spiritual development—[to the development that a person undergoes]. What they experience [there] is, admittedly, [at first] experienced in the form of images; but this experience is the expression of a significant reality, of what is actually taking place. In my book, I try to describe as vividly as possible what often approaches unexpectedly, like a vision; when one has developed one’s soul long enough and with sufficient energy, the moment arrives—a moment that can unfold in a hundred different ways, but which can also unfold in such a way that one feels: Something is happening to you now that you have never before experienced. It can be as if one feels oneself within a complex of forces, as if lightning were striking, passing right through one, and shattering all that is material. From that moment on, one feels [how one has entered into a different relationship with the body], how one has become free and independent in one’s inner experience from that which is physically attached to one. One feels, as it were, consciously driven out, and one feels in a way that one can only feel when experiencing the shedding of the body in death. That is why the following words were used in the mystical life: “One approaches the threshold of death.”

[ 12 ] Only from this moment on does one know what it means to experience oneself inwardly and to know at the same time: It is not linked to inner physicality; one feels liberated from that; now one knows what it means to stand before a mirror. [Thoughts are not products of the brain]; one now knows the reality of the spirit and soul; but one is detached from something else at this moment, and that is the essential point here. One knows that one is detached from physicality, but one is also, to a high degree, detached from what one has known as the spiritual-soul aspect—that in which one was, in which one experienced oneself, [that which one addressed as “self”]. The mystics who have known this have spoken of approaching the outer necessity of existence. [One understands the mystics only when one knows this oneself]; indeed, one has this experience in that very moment—[it is] a significant discovery. Just as one stands before a foreign body and can only be a spectator, so one feels that one can only be a spectator in that which one previously felt oneself to be an active participant in; [one feels oneself to be a spectator facing a spiritual-soul life]. One feels it oneself as a kind of physicality outside of oneself, feels that there are processes taking place within it over which one has no control. One feels, as it were, bound, chained to a being to which one must remain attached until the gates of death, and toward which one nevertheless feels oneself to be an external spectator. One feels a new thinker awakening within oneself; one feels the old will has been snatched away, and finds oneself standing opposed to it. What matters far more than any sensational result is that he—a human being developing in this way—can truly have such experiences, that he can thus know himself to be in a spiritual world; and when he knows himself to be there, one thing becomes clear to him. It becomes clear to him that with the new being he has now distilled from his previous soul life, he stands much closer to external physicality than he did before. We are close to outward physicality. Today’s materialist is familiar with the phenomena of turning pale and blushing; we have experienced physical processes in this regard; these can be conceived of as even more intense; one can also point to conditions that come to light when observing a person over a longer period of their life. We find that when a person has an inner life that does not remain merely theoretical, he becomes the master of his own life; [the soul acts upon the body; the facial features change]. But these are all trifles compared to what one feels in the moment when one has, so to speak, detached oneself from one’s spiritual and soul life—that one possesses within oneself the powers to create physically. [One feels that which possesses the powers to shape the physical], for then one feels the powers present in the child as it shapes out its physical form, [physically manifesting its abilities]. This experience is not easy; it is quite difficult to bear. One cannot change this body, but one feels: Through one’s life, one has gathered powers capable of fashioning another body. One feels, as it were, a foretaste of the forces that will work on one’s destiny in a future life. One feels as if detached, yet one has also attained certainty regarding the spiritual-soul experience, [the spiritual-soul core]. Just as surely as one separates oxygen from hydrogen, so through the separation one effectes through this meaningful self-experiment, one recognizes that the spiritual-soul aspect—a spiritual-soul core—is blended into the human being within the human body, and that the human being reaches out into a new life by carrying within oneself the potential for it. Certainty dawns upon us when we approach things in this way. There are, however, no experiments we can conduct in a laboratory; the only experiment is self-development, self-enrichment, and the only experiment for penetrating the supersensible worlds is the spiritual-soul aspect itself. One must make oneself the instrument of this penetration. Then he truly gains insight into the connection between his destiny in this life and in past lives. Just as the person is mistaken who believes that he is a product of nature—[who believes he is that very thing he sees in the mirror—so too is the one mistaken who seeks his “I” in the physical body]—and just as the person is mistaken to whom the following happens: It happens to him that he cannot find the objects—the buttons, for example—that he needs to get dressed; he becomes annoyed and assumes that someone has misplaced them. [He asks]: “Who has done this to me? Where should I look?”—Then he looks more closely and discovers that he himself is the cause, that he had to search. What he now has to do is the result of what he himself did the previous day. [So it is with our fate.] Our fate comes upon us; we face it with love and hate; we do not relate it to ourselves because we have forgotten that we [ourselves] caused it. But a true contemplation of life expands our memory, and we find that it is of our own making.

[ 13 ] This is the true scope of genuine human self-reflection. Certainly, natural science can penetrate many areas, but not the realms of the spiritual and the soul. Charles Eliot, whom I mentioned earlier, said that the old worldview dealt with human suffering and declared: “You will find compensation after death.”—According to Charles Eliot, the new worldview should not concern itself with death and misery, but with joy and life. We must undoubtedly concede this. But can one so simply say that, based on the natural sciences, one should cobble together a worldview that deals only with joy and life? One may say so—fine, one [may refuse to deal with suffering and death], may turn one’s eyes away from suffering and death—but suffering and death deal with us; they are already approaching us, and only the one who can view suffering as a factor in development—who, when it comes down to it, can answer the question: “You have experienced happiness and joy, pain and suffering”— Which of the things you have experienced would you rather give up: [suffering or joy]?—“I would give up joy in exchange for pain and suffering, for it is actually to them that I owe my insight”—such a person would speak the truth, because he has gained true insight. What insight makes us understand death as a factor in our development—from which a new seed of life grows, shedding its shell like withered leaves—is precisely what allows us to view death as the event that guarantees us a new life. [In death, a new seed of life matures.] We could not use what we are meant to use for a new life—[the seed]—if we did not have death, [if we did not pass through death]. This will become a way of life, a kind of life-giving force, once education is grounded in this worldview; one will be able to visualize, through the process of a plant’s withering, how the spiritual-soul core becomes ever more energetic, within which new life forces seek to act. This will give courage to face life. This insight will be an elixir of life. I have always pointed out an objection that is raised here. Systematic studies show us how mathematical talents were inherited in the Bernoulli family, and musical talents in the Bach family. The question now is this: Is any of these scientific findings denied? Does anything need to be denied? Through a simple comparison, we can see how everything that is legitimately stated by the natural sciences can be acknowledged. [Spiritual science does not deny anything that the natural sciences state.] The spiritual researcher is not a superstitious person; he is someone who does not wish to raise [arbitrary] objections, who has no need to reject what is justified. It is certainly acknowledged that there is validity in the facts of heredity, [but alongside the materialistic cause, there is also a spiritual one]. Let’s suppose someone were standing before us and another person said: “I want to answer the question of why the person standing before me actually lives.” Well, because they have lungs inside and air outside, because they breathe. - Certainly, he is right. But another person comes along and says: “Yes, but I know something else about why he lives; I once came upon him as he was hanging himself, and I cut him down. My cutting him down is the reason he is still alive today!” - This comparison clarifies everything that defines the relationship between spiritual science and natural science. If someone were to claim: “We see the talents of a great military commander because his [Napoleon’s] mother, while she was carrying him, had a penchant for moving about on battlefields”—we can concede that point, but it does not preclude the other being true as well [that psychological and spiritual connections also exist]. If one only makes this relationship between spiritual science and natural science sufficiently clear to oneself, then one will no longer raise the objections that are otherwise commonly heard.

[ 14 ] But even apart from that, these objections lack sufficient logic. We see that genius is always at the end of the line of inheritance. Certainly, we can see that the external physical tools are derived from our ancestors, but individuality had to seek out those physical tools. [This is proof against heredity]. But if someone bases a claim on this—that everything happens solely through the line of inheritance, saying that a person has inherited this or that trait from their ancestors because the ancestors also possessed it—that cannot actually be proof in the true sense. For it is, in a logical sense, no more proof than saying that if someone has fallen into water, they are wet. An external, real proof—and one that is also logical—could at most be found if genius were placed not at the end but at the beginning of the hereditary line, so that one could show how genius is transmitted—but one will hardly bother to do that. One can see that these assertions are not based on logic but on certain habits of thought that tend to seek the reasons for everything in the physical and corporeal realm; and so one must say: The task of natural science is to show what is transitory in human beings, and thereby to conclude its task; for with what, after all, must natural science actually proceed? It makes use of the senses, which, however, cease to function precisely with a person’s death. How, then, can one use the tools that are lost in death to gain insight into the supersensible world? How can one accomplish this with the intellect, when the brain—to which the intellect is bound—is lost at death? Only if it is possible to appeal to those powers of the soul that are not bound to the senses or to the physical brain is it possible to penetrate the spiritual, supersensible worlds. And as true as it is—and as no one can dispute—that Du Bois-Reymond once said that we understand a sleeping person, but that from a scientific standpoint we no longer understand them once the ray of consciousness enters them—[what constitutes joy and suffering can no longer be investigated] —, one must nevertheless concede that the solution to the riddle of life cannot be found in this way, which leaves open the possibility of a solution where natural science ends. If one does not do so, then one must despair of solving this riddle of life.

[ 15 ] [Where natural science ends, the science of the spirit begins.] Therefore, there must be a science of the spirit that in no way denies the validity of natural science, but which must conduct research in the same [rigorous] manner through the development of the powers of the soul. Then a knowledge arises within the human being that is, at the same time, life itself; this is something that pours forth like a spiritual-soul elixir of life, through which we gain courage and security in life, through which we first come to know what we are as human beings, and thus feel ourselves to be spirit itself—just as we feel ourselves within the physical-material world—as the very same thing that lives out there. When we recognize the essence of the spiritual-soul realm, we feel ourselves to be just as much a part of this spiritual-soul realm—a member of it—which permeates and weaves through the entire world, [so that we say to ourselves: What is within us as laws also lives out there; we are a part of the world]. Spiritual science is meant to bring life—knowing life, not merely a life of faith—to modern culture, and this is what modern humanity needs. The old faith can no longer satisfy them for the simple reason that people have undergone the education that the natural sciences can provide, and because they will demand that what is said about the spirit be expressed in the same style as what is said about the natural sciences. And this finally leads us to acknowledge how, on the one hand, what Goethe says is entirely justified: that because we carry within us the ability to perceive light, we also recognize external light; because we carry a divine light within us, we can also recognize the divine. Goethe says:

If the eye were not like the sun,
It could not behold the sun;
If God’s own power did not dwell within us,
How could the divine delight us?

[ 16 ] Goethe points out here how we [always] possess a spiritual-soul aspect within ourselves, and that by virtue of having it within us, it is, as it were, projected out into the world, where we can see it again; if we had no eyes—and this is true—then everything would be dark; it is true that if we did not have a spiritual eye, we could not admire the divine outside of ourselves. But Goethe did not merely side with those many people who wish to recognize the spiritual-psychic aspect only within human beings themselves; rather, he sided with those who knew that, because light traverses space, we have the eye; [because the eye is sun-like, we see the sun. The fact that light floods through space is the cause of the eye]. If there were no light outside of us, the eye could not have taken root in our lives! And so we can conclude this evening’s reflections—which were meant to show us how human beings can attain spiritual knowledge by enlivening the forces within them—by saying: The spiritual-soul aspect is not only within us; rather, it is a guarantee that, just as we are born out of the physical world, we are also born out of the spiritual-soul aspect [that lives through the world].

If the world were not blessed with the sun,
How could eyes blossom in living beings?
If existence were not a revelation of God,
How would people come to fulfill God?