The Rudolf Steiner Archive

3. The Mission of the Goetheanum in Dornach

[ 1 ] Ladies and gentlemen! Among the many visitors to the Goetheanum in Dornach—which, after all, can be reached from Basel in less than an hour by regular public transportation—many ask: What are the tasks of this Goetheanum? What goals does it seek to serve? Well, my dear friends, if one were to speak of these goals and tasks of the Goetheanum without relating them to the great, serious challenges of our present time, it would hardly be worth discussing them in public. But this Goetheanum in Dornach is precisely intended to be connected, in its tasks, to the great tasks facing humanity today as a whole. And today I would like to speak, at least in a few brief remarks, about this connection.

[ 2 ] Anyone who not only looks at the Goetheanum from the outside but also gets to know a little about the way of life there will be able to notice that two human activities, which otherwise occur quite separately in life, are thoroughly interconnected there; and through this, the outer character of this Goetheanum may first reveal its defining features.

[ 3 ] We organized university courses this fall. I have already mentioned them here in my previous lecture, in which representatives of a wide variety of academic disciplines discussed the ways in which their respective fields can be enriched by the insights that flow into them from the spiritual science cultivated at the Goetheanum. Science has thus been cultivated here—science, that is, in the sense of spiritual science. At the same time, however, one can see for oneself how artistic souls and artistic people have been working at this Goetheanum for years, and how the entire building has come into being through these artistic people in its present, indeed not yet completed, forms. And one has been able to see how, this fall, the individual scientists and also figures from practical life have spoken from a spirit that was quite the same as the one from which the artistic people have, for years, given this building its forms, its images, and so on. This is what constitutes the distinctive feature of this building, the Goetheanum in Dornach: that the artistic work carried out there springs from the same spirit as the scientific work that is to be accomplished there. This unified spirit of the scientific and the artistic—that is, first and foremost, what characterizes the Goetheanum.

[ 4 ] But there is a third factor—my esteemed audience—that goes hand in hand with this. All those who have spoken here on a wide variety of scientific questions, as well as on the most diverse branches of practical life, and all those who have been engaged in artistic work for years—they are deeply convinced in their hearts that what they say, what they do, and whatever they accomplish in any way is connected in some way to the great tasks of the human race. Everything—whether it be what is to be conceived on a grand scale or what is to be accomplished in the details, in the smallest of things—possesses, one might well say, a kind of religious spirit. It is not some obscure sectarian movement, as the detractors of the Dornach building claim, that drives its essence; rather, what is being driven is motivated by a serious scientific spirit—yet in such a way that this serious scientific spirit can simultaneously become so alive that it can express itself artistically. And that which expresses itself scientifically and artistically in these two very different ways carries with it—not in a sectarian sense, not even in any narrow denominational sense, but in a wholly universal human sense—a kind of religious devotion, a kind of religious reverence for the cause to which one is dedicated.

[ 5 ] But one can go even deeper—my esteemed audience—and one can perceive this unity of activity in Dornach. One can explore how, albeit in different forms and ways, science is discussed here than is usually the case in our educational institutions. And the scientific discourse takes place in such a way that, for example, the individual sciences enter into a connection with one another, illuminating and enlightening one another, so that the narrow-minded spirit of specialization and narrow-field scholarship gives way to that which all the individual sciences together strive to achieve as the universal human. I would say that the scientific discourse takes place in a different tone.

[ 6 ] And when you walk around the building, when you look at its interior—at the paintings and the sculptures—and ask yourself, “In what style was this building constructed?” you won’t get the usual answer. When one usually enters an educational institution, one hears this or that academic discipline being presented from the perspective of its specific, specialized field of interest. One then looks at the building. One asks: In what style was it built? One receives the answer: in the Renaissance style, in the classical style, in the Gothic style, and so on. One cannot receive such an answer regarding the architectural style of the Goetheanum in Dornach. The only answer one can receive is this: The Goetheanum in Dornach is built in the same style in all its individual forms as the one in which the various sciences are discussed within it. The same spirit from which scientific life springs is the very spirit that has been embodied in its forms. Dornach thus has its own architectural style, and everything that presents itself to the visitor forms a unity: when the visitor enters the building through the portal on one side, looks around at the forms surrounding him, and then listens to the words intended to reveal to him which science is practiced there.

[ 7 ] This unity—my dear friends here today—is what characterizes Dornach. And in this respect, the Goetheanum in Dornach certainly stands in contradiction—but I believe the world will gradually come to realize that it is a beneficial contradiction—to the fragmentation of our present-day life, this life in which individual activities and individual ways of thinking and perceiving emerge from the most diverse corners, are at odds with one another, and most certainly do not grow together into a harmonious unity. For this is precisely what is so catastrophic about our time: that the individual activities arising from the most diverse [specialized fields] of our lives cannot somehow unite to form a harmonious whole. When one looks at things this way, it might at first seem as though this Goetheanum in Dornach were meant, in a sense, to serve as a kind of model for the way in which the various activities of life should interact harmoniously. However—my dear friends here today—this Goetheanum is not meant to be merely a kind of model; it is meant to be a place where work is carried out in such a way that this harmony can also find its way into the tasks of our time, and that out of the life of decline that threatens us, a life of renewal may arise.

[ 8 ] To grasp this, however, one must take a closer look at the way in which modern civilization has developed over the course of the last three to four centuries. The two most significant characteristics of this civilization—which I have often emphasized in lectures I have had the privilege of delivering here in this very place— and I wish to highlight them again today from a certain perspective—these two most significant characteristics are that, over the past three to four centuries, a scientific way of life—particularly one rooted in the natural sciences—has emerged in the development of humanity and has come to set the tone for the broadest circles in terms of feeling, willing, and worldview. One must by no means delude oneself about this! Certainly, many people today cling firmly to old confessional traditions or the like with their views and also act on impulses that spring from these traditional confessions. But what has spread more and more—especially in the course of the nineteenth century and in the first two decades of this twentieth century—is that which has flowed from the authority of modern scientific life.

[ 9 ] How people today think about the structure of the world, how they think about what lives and works within the various realms of nature, and how they ultimately think about themselves—they allow themselves to be told this by what they regard as authoritative science. And indeed, within certain creeds, people have strived so hard to draw a clear line between so-called faith and science, because they wanted to preserve for the soul something that goes beyond the acceptance of this science. But because people did not dare to draw from this science itself anything that might also speak to the eternal in the soul, to the higher meaning, or to the supersensory meaning of human life, they sought to establish, so to speak, sanctuary in the soul where science has no say—a sanctuary from which one did not wish to elicit that which speaks of the highest matters of the soul. They sought to secure the realm of faith so that they might at least be permitted to assume something about this eternal aspect of the soul, about this supersensible aspect of the human being—something that science is not permitted to assume or that science designates as lying beyond its boundaries.

[ 10 ] However, this is by no means intended to cast the slightest shadow on the tremendous progress this science has made over the past few centuries. For—my esteemed audience—the spiritual science as represented here does not allow itself to be drawn into making any arguments against science as such based on any kind of superstitious prejudice; rather, it acknowledges, in the fullest sense of the word, what this scientific development of the past centuries has brought about. It appreciates what has emerged within this science from the observation of the external world in conjunction with experimentation and the power of reasoning. And the spiritual science referred to here should not be confused with all the forms of dilettantism that arise from mystical or other motivations, which also seek to satisfy human souls that oppose science solely because they have never come into any relationship with it. This spiritual science, as represented here, fully takes into account—even if its calculations may be incorrect in some respects—the progress of modern science, and it is determined to follow a course that in no way yields to modern scientific rigor in method or conscientiousness of thought.

[ 11 ] But, ladies and gentlemen, it is precisely those who engage with this modern science in its various fields—with all that it has brought—who ultimately arrive at a very specific conclusion—a conclusion that, because it in a certain sense justifies skepticism, is no less significant.

[ 12 ] You see, ladies and gentlemen, I myself have faced a great deal of hostility simply because, before I made the transition, I tried to express what I had to say based on anthroposophical knowledge in purely scientific works across a wide variety of fields. I did so because I believe that today a higher worldview should not present itself to the world in any way without first justifying itself by engaging with the most diverse scientific fields. But when one delves into these various scientific fields, one says to oneself: Even though we have not only conscientiously developed external methods of observation, not only advanced the combinatory intellect and the art of experimentation, but have also arrived at everything that our enhanced senses provide us through the telescope, the microscope, the X-ray machine, the spectroscope, and so on, and so on—even though we have developed all of this, indeed precisely because we have developed all of this, the mysteries of life and the universe have not diminished for us, but have multiplied. And anyone who approaches this scientific development of modern times with an open mind knows precisely that, fundamentally, with every look through the telescope or the microscope, with every result from the X-ray machine or the spectroscope, what actually emerges are not solutions to what we call the mysteries of life and humanity, but new questions and ever-new mysteries, and that with each such result, the human soul must once again seek something that can, at least to a certain degree, provide a solution to such mysteries. So, it is not really solutions that have emerged from the triumphs of modern science, but rather new mysteries of life and new questions have arisen—and it is precisely those who engage impartially with contemporary scientific life who are confronted with them to a greater degree. That is on the one hand, in the direction of the flow of knowledge; developments on this side have brought us a host of new mysteries and new questions. But we can also look to the other side and, if we view it with an open mind, see what the past centuries have brought in a special light. It is fair to say: What the natural sciences have provided us with has also yielded practical results. It has brought us our modern technology, and we may say: Most of what surrounds us today at every turn in life—all the significant advances that technology has brought us—all of this is, after all, a result of the past few centuries and has, in essence, emerged from the findings of modern science. Technology has become an integral part of life, and life has become highly dependent on it. Can we not, in a certain sense, perhaps also say that just as scientific development has presented us with puzzles and questions, so too does modern progress in the realm of technology present us with puzzles and questions?

[ 13 ] Essentially, we are right in the midst of these mysteries and questions, for when we look at the great advances in technology, we must admit to ourselves: Yes, they are here, and humanity is also living a life dominated by this technology. But this technology has not yet found its way to humanity itself; otherwise, we would not have among us today—my esteemed audience—that which is so pressing, what is called, in the broadest sense, the social question. People have learned to adapt their machines. But what the machines have brought us is not the solution to life’s questions in the fullest sense of the word; rather, it is precisely the greatest question of life that arises from them: How should human life be shaped in social terms so that people who must work—just as they once did without machines—must now work with modern technology, and so that these people can come together in social life in full mutual understanding? Just as, on the other hand, modern scientific development has presented us with questions and puzzles of knowledge, so modern technology—which has emerged from this scientific development—has presented us with the great question: How should life be organized so that human beings may find the possibility of a dignified existence within a life permeated by technology? One might say: Both the theoretical and the practical questions of life have, in fact, emerged from modern civilization. And today, in the midst of this full-scale development, we are not faced with solutions—neither theoretical or emotional solutions nor practical ones—but rather we are confronted everywhere with questions, with puzzles that are piling up, placing demands on humanity that can no longer be ignored.

[ 14 ] This—my dear friends here today—is something one must feel with all one’s being if one wishes to do justice to the tasks set by the Goetheanum in Dornach. For it can be said: Those who are connected with the founding and development of this Goetheanum are precisely those people who deeply feel this burning passion—on the one hand for knowledge, and on the other for the questions of life in the modern age—and who wish to contribute, to the best of their ability, so that such life tasks, as they present themselves, can be tackled.

[ 15 ] Let us consider how, on the one hand, people offer simplistic solutions: A man like Haeckel believed he was offering simplistic solutions in his *Weltenrätsel* (*Mysteries of the Universe*), whereas all he could offer was a mounting pile of new riddles. And people who believe they have a firm grasp of practical life also believe, for example, that the relations of production give rise to what human social relations are. We hear it emphasized time and again in social democratic platforms: it is the relations of production that have created life and the form of life.

[ 16 ] Now—ladies and gentlemen—it is precisely in light of what we are facing with regard to modern technology that one can see that the relations of production created by this modern technology, and indeed the way of life associated with them, have not given rise to this demand. If they had, we would not have a social question at all.

[ 17 ] In contrast, one must ask: What, then, actually characterizes this modern life? After all, it depends on people finding a way to engage with life based on what they can understand, feel, will, and do as human beings. It is easy to say that today it is all about economic issues; above all, people must move beyond the immediate struggle for daily bread.

[ 18 ] Now—my esteemed audience—the only way to resolve this bread issue is by properly utilizing what the earth provides for humankind and bringing it into circulation. But what must happen to achieve this can only come about through what human beings are capable of feeling, doing, and willing—through which they can position themselves in the world. Ultimately, it is the worldview, it is the inner spiritual capacity of human beings, that alone can provide a solution even to the most extreme economic problems. Therefore, if one wishes to take a proper view of the great questions of the present and the tasks of our time, one must look to that which can spiritually enliven the human soul from within—that which can impel human beings toward a fruitful will, toward that which can form the foundation of human understanding. One must say: What is being strived for at the Goetheanum in Dornach—and what is visible to a certain extent in the work being done there—may perhaps inspire some to reflect on the place of the human being in the course of human development.

[ 19 ] As I said earlier—my esteemed audience—in Dornach one can see how scientific questions are discussed in a spirit that is, at the same time, the very same spirit from which artistic minds at the Goetheanum itself drew inspiration in their work on its exterior architecture, sculpture, and painting. And I said that not only is there a certain unity between what is being pursued scientifically out there and what has been created artistically, but that a certain religious atmosphere also pervades both the scientific and the artistic work. Anyone who truly immerses themselves in this Goetheanum in Dornach will find that a certain unity exists between three human modes of revealing the inner being of this person—between science, religion, and art. Of course, I am not speaking—and I would like to strongly emphasize this—of some new religion being founded in Dornach. That cannot be the issue at all; rather, the issue can be nothing other than that what is created in science and art is at the same time permeated by a religious spirit.

[ 20 ] Ladies and gentlemen! This modern civilization, which I have just characterized in various ways, is indeed defined by the fact that science, religion, and art have become increasingly fragmented within it. This is the peculiarity of the modern spirit: that it seeks to pursue science from a perspective entirely different from that which constitutes the substance of religious life, and, conversely, that it wants nothing to do with the unity of science and art. Essentially, those views—which Goethe himself still held—and from whom the Goetheanum takes its name, perhaps precisely for the reasons I have just alluded to once more—what still lay in Goethe’s views has faded away: that science, on the one hand, should be pursued by following what lies in the current of truth, but that art, too, should create out of the same spirit.

[ 21 ] Goethe—as is well known—pursued scientific interests throughout his life. He devoted himself earnestly to studying how plants develop their various forms and how animals emerge organically through metamorphosis; he also engaged in other sciences. In all of this, he kept an artistic perspective in mind. He conceived of the artistic in this way: that when a person grasps with their soul that which they can also penetrate scientifically, they then shape it inwardly; that which they appropriate scientifically—as formless on the one hand—takes shape within them, so that they can create a work of art from it. Goethe envisioned [an intimate relationship] between the truth that should prevail in science and the truth that should prevail in art. These ideas have almost entirely faded away today, and this is precisely because modern civilization has been determined to regard science, religion, and art as three distinct realms that spring from different foundations of human life and that actually have nothing to do with one another.

[ 22 ] That was not the case at the starting point of human development. Based on what we have today, it is extremely difficult for us to recognize that starting point. At the starting point of human development, people possessed a special, different kind of cognition—not the kind of cognition that is particularly valued today, which focuses solely on external natural phenomena and observes these phenomena closely with the human senses—which they combined with ordinary human reason. No, at the starting point of human cognition stood the ability to add to everything that the eyes observe—and that can be synthesized by the intellect—a certain spiritual contemplation of things, a penetration of the external world, so that along with what the senses perceive and what the intellect can synthesize, the inner spiritual entities—the inner essence of things—can also appear before one’s eyes, namely, before the spiritual eye.

[ 23 ] And [in] that which humanity, at the starting point of its development—and continuing for centuries to come, which we can look back on as not actually being that long ago— into that very knowledge which human beings acquired at that time, something spiritual shone so brightly that human beings perceived this spiritual element—which came to them from science itself—at the same time as the divine-spiritual in nature, in everything, everything. They did not know of a science in and of itself and something else that was to be given to them spiritually through faith; rather, they knew of a science that simultaneously provided the observation of external nature and also that which underlies the objects of nature and all of life as spiritual essence. In what science gave him, he recognized the Divine at the same time, so that science became for him, at the same time, the revealer of that which he could revere from the very depths of his soul. What his reason grasped appeared to his soul in such a way that he could simultaneously revere it religiously. If we go back to those places that in ancient times were both schools and places of worship—the mystery temples—we find that what was revealed there through a science was at the same time the message of what divinely permeates the world. Thus, what the word of science expressed simultaneously provided what inspired people to worship the gods.

[ 24 ] And one can go even further. What was offered in this regard—on the one hand, as knowledge, and on the other, in a way that also engaged the human emotional life—allowed people to satisfy their need to revere the divine through what they were permitted to know, to find fulfillment, this was given to them in such a way that it was not abstract and did not approach them passively, providing them with mere intellectual knowledge—something that could, so to speak, only be thought—but rather it was given in such a way that it was full of life, that it intervened in their lives just as—let us say—external circumstances intervene in their lives: a friendship, or any other circumstances that permeate the whole person. Our knowledge today can leave us so cold that we retreat to laboratories to conduct research; when we’re outside, we no longer concern ourselves with it. Life is something separate from this research. Or else we sit down at a table and pursue some branch of science. We pursue it as long as we’re sitting at the table. Then life unfolds outside.

[ 25 ] This life, however, demands the whole person. This life requires more than mere intellectual effort. We must throw ourselves into this life with our whole being. Concepts such as those that today can only be experienced in a laboratory, or at a desk, and so on—concepts that engage only the mind, that occupy only reason and intellect—did not exist in the old schools. There were concepts there that, like living forces, engaged the whole person—just as life itself engages the whole person—so that everything that was technology, and above all art, arose simultaneously from these ideas. People had gained ideas through knowledge, through which they satisfied their need for understanding. At the same time, these ideas contained something to which the soul and the feelings could devotedly surrender. One knew that the will was pulsing with whatever came to one there, so that the will could pour it into external matter, enabling it to create technology in ordinary life and art in a higher form of life. And in the cultic acts, the aim was nothing other than to be inspired, first at the sacred sites, to draw forth from what constituted the content of knowledge and religion something that was at once artistic, technical, and full of life. Human cognition, human reverent feeling for the divine in the world, and human creativity—these formed a unity. Humanity could not have developed further into the forms of civilization toward which it was necessarily destined to evolve if life had remained in this undifferentiated state. It is indeed an enrichment of life that what was, so to speak, an undifferentiated unity at the starting point of humanity—and even in times such as those that underlay ancient Greece—came into being. It was absolutely necessary for humanity to move beyond these unconceptualized aspects of civilization, developing in particular the realms of science, religion, and art. But what has come of this, my esteemed audience?

[ 26 ] We have gradually come to possess a religious realm which, as I have said, we wish to preserve from the onslaught of modern scientific thought—a thought that is, after all, accepted by all people and is being embraced more and more even by those who have not yet adopted it. A growing longing has taken shape to establish, alongside these demands and onslaughts of modern scientific thinking, a realm of faith into which science is not to intrude—a realm in which one may find enlightenment regarding precisely those matters that are the most intimate, the innermost, and the holiest concerns of the human soul itself. And suddenly, we find science standing side by side with faith: science, which does not wish to make any statements because it claims to be unable to say anything about the eternal or the supersensible aspects of the human soul; and faith, which certainly does wish to make statements and reveal something about this eternal and this supersensible aspect of the human soul, but which shrinks from attributing to what it accepts any significance of the kind that external science attributes to its theories. One can define such a separation; one can characterize it in some way. But in the long run, one cannot live under such a separation, for the believing mind, must inevitably feel constrained in the long run when science appears on one side and presides over a certain realm with its judgments claiming certainty, and when the truth of faith—which is precisely meant to provide insight into the most essential aspects of the human soul—seeks to assert itself as a special path to truth.

[ 27 ] Even today, there is still no clear understanding in this area, and that is why people keep trying, time and again, to justify this separation of science and faith. But humanity suffers as a result. And much of what humanity suffers from this perspective takes place in the subconscious. But it does not emerge into human life in its original form. As a result, human beings are also restricted in the development of their intellect; they are driven to judgments that are not reliable enough in the face of life’s realities; their judgment becomes dulled. And when we ask today: Why do we so often find mere routine in practical life, in place of clear insight and a sense of reality? Why have we brought ourselves into such terrible, catastrophic times in practical life, in economic life? Then we must say: Yes, this is where what human judgment is incapable of becomes apparent. One simply fails to see the connection with something else.

[ 28 ] The fact that we have failed to develop such a comprehensive perspective in our external economic and practical lives—in other words, that our judgments have become so narrow-minded in this practical realm that they have brought about social chaos—stems, for those who see through the matter, from the fact that we have misdirected and narrowed our capacity for judgment; by, on the one hand, seeking to limit our scientific capacity for judgment to that which can be observed merely externally and combined by the intellect, and by blunting this capacity for judgment when it comes to the most important matters of the soul—the supersensible, the eternal aspects of the soul. What is synthesized in our judgments—as a result of being raised in school in such a way that we are not allowed to bring what we are taught scientifically into our understanding of the inner soul—forms a pattern of judgment within us such that we then have short-sighted thoughts even when we are supposed to think economically, and this leads to catastrophes.

[ 29 ] And so today we live with the terrible tragedy that theorists and representatives of religious denominations repeatedly declare that the truths of faith must be kept separate from scientific truths, and that this plays a role in our pedagogy and our didactics. One must realize—my esteemed audience—that this fosters a kind of human short-sightedness that spills over, I would say subconsciously, into practical judgment—the very short-sightedness that has led us into the chaos of economic life. These inner connections must be recognized, for it is the human being himself who is decisive for life—not external economic conditions, not external institutions—but the human being alone is decisive for external life. If a person is educated in the wrong direction in one area of practical life, the same is true in other areas as well. And if a person is driven, on the one hand, to a dullness of judgment, this dullness of judgment will make itself felt precisely in practical areas—where they are supposed to be discerning, where they are supposed to see through the world.

[ 30 ] And again—my esteemed audience—regarding the artistic aspect at the dawn of humanity, which I have just attempted to characterize: it was such that human beings perceived the supersensible and the sensible simultaneously, and that they imbued the sensible forms in art with the character derived from their perception of the supersensible. Thus art revealed itself from the very same primordial source from which science and religion sprang. Goethe still sensed something of this connection when he spoke his remarkable, meaningful words:

Whoever possesses science and art also possesses religion.
Whoever possesses neither should have religion.

[ 31 ] But such views, such feelings have, in fact, already completely faded away today, and that is why we have come to a point in art where, on the one hand, we have fallen into pure naturalism, making the imitation of nature the sole object of our pursuit. And since people have grown weary of this imitation in recent times, since they have finally realized that this imitation of nature, this mere naturalism, cannot, in essence, offer anything that in any way surpasses nature—for, after all, if someone is merely naturalistic, one must tell them that one would still rather look at nature itself than at what they merely seek to imitate, for as far as nature goes, one cannot go that far in art if one merely seeks to imitate. Once people realized this—and this is entirely understandable and even justified from a certain point of view—people today began to search from within themselves, in Expressionism and in all manner of other movements, seeking to capture in some way, through color and form, that which is not found in nature but which human beings can experience as the supernatural within themselves. This is a quest; it is, in fact, something that once again represents a task of our time, even in the artistic realm.

[ 32 ] Thus we see that, in a sense, art, too—by separating itself from the other realms of human intellectual endeavor—has strayed onto the wrong path, onto a path of error. But this differentiation had to occur—as I have already said—otherwise human civilization would not have been able to progress. But today we are once again living in a time when that which has separated itself from the rest has such an effect through this separation that, as people allow it to influence them, it begins to tear them apart. As humanity, we gradually came to live within a science that instructs us about the external natural world in a marvelous way, but which, as we delve into it, alienates us precisely from that which we need if we wish to gain insight into our own souls. And we have arrived at a religious life that—I would say—had to create its own realm of truth because it did not dare to call upon science itself to penetrate the supersensible just as it penetrates the sensible. And art turned to nature—or turns to all manner of random human experiences in Impressionism, Expressionism, Naturalism, and so on and so forth—in order to maintain its independent standing. But then one surrenders oneself to this art.

[ 33 ] In a sense, one must split apart and fragment that which constitutes a unity within the human being—thinking, feeling, and willing. That which lives externally by acting upon the human being fragments the human being. Today we have certainly reached a point in human development where human beings have lost themselves in a sense because the various, most important, and most essential branches of knowledge in which they are engaged—the scientific, religious, and artistic branches—have diverged, and they are no longer able to hold them together.

[ 34 ] You see—my esteemed audience— this is what must be felt by those who, on the one hand, possess an unbiased mind capable of discerning the true trends of our civilization, and who, on the other hand, have a heart and a mind attuned to what is lacking in our time—practically, economically, spiritually, educationally, and in terms of upbringing—and to what has led us into this catastrophe. Anyone who truly cares about the distress and misery of our time, and who, at the same time, can observe impartially how human souls are becoming fractured, sees a connection between the two; for they see that what has taken on catastrophic forms in life today stems from the fact that people are inwardly fractured and do not know how to engage with life.

[ 35 ] This stands in contrast to spiritual science, which is counted among the tasks of the Goetheanum in Dornach. This spiritual science speaks of this—and I have often described the details in these lectures here—today I would like to refer to these lectures and simply point out that you will also find it elaborated in detail in my writings *How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?* and in my *Secret Science*, and so on. This spiritual science, as it is to be cultivated in Dornach and gradually integrated into civilization through the Goetheanum, speaks of the fact that there is not only the kind of knowledge that relies on external sensory observation—on the use of the external senses — such as the telescope, microscope, and so on — and to the combining intellect; rather, that human beings possess within themselves abilities that are initially latent and hidden in ordinary life and in ordinary science, but which can be brought to the surface through the methods I have outlined in the aforementioned writings and presented here in earlier [lectures]. This spiritual science speaks of how ordinary, concrete, external scientific cognition can work its way up to a higher form of cognition: imagination, inspiration, and intuition in the deeper sense. This spiritual science speaks of various stages of cognition that in turn lead into the supersensible realm, carrying knowledge itself up into the supersensible realm.

[ 36 ] And when one develops such methods of knowledge in this way—my esteemed audience—one attains a special relationship to modern scientific thought. Above all, this modern scientific thought has truly come a long way in the most diverse fields! Let us just consider—we could, of course, examine another field here, but let us just think of what has emerged in recent times as the theory of evolution. One need not think of extreme materialistic Darwinism, but simply of the theory of evolution as it has been established in recent times, as it has been conscientiously and methodically developed for the most diverse spheres, and one will say to oneself: With regard to all that could be accomplished there, great things have been accomplished. Indeed, when one surveys the progression from the more imperfect to the ever more perfect in terms of form and essence, one then says to oneself: At the pinnacle of this series stands the human being. One sees a connection between the human being and the other entities. By surveying such a progression, one can certainly remain within the realm of external, objective cognition.

[ 37 ] But—my dear friends here today—human beings cannot be understood in this way. This is, I would say, merely a specific case in contrast to the general principle I mentioned earlier. Human beings cannot be understood by applying the methods of modern science to nature and to human beings, as we have become accustomed to doing up to the present day. Something else is necessary for this. But when one works one’s way up from this ordinary form of knowledge, as it is cultivated today, to what anthroposophically oriented spiritual science calls “imagination,” what is otherwise understood only abstractly is transformed into a pictorial conception—but a pictorial conception that is neither a dream nor a fantasy, but one that carries within itself the certainty that one is dealing with the image of a spiritual, not a physical, reality—when one develops toward this imagination, toward this visual perception, through the supersensible powers of knowledge, as I have described them in my book *How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?*, then one comes to realize, as one stands before the human being in a state of insight, simply by observing his form: One cannot comprehend him with the means of modern science; one must allow one’s thinking to pass into entirely different inner soul experiences if one wishes to comprehend the human being.

[ 38 ] One can say that a human being has so many bones, and one can compare this to the number of bones in higher animals; one can count one’s muscles, examine the shape of one’s heart—one can do all of this using the methods of ordinary science; but then there comes a point where this ordinary science leads nowhere, where one must transform it inwardly within the life of the soul, where one must attempt to grasp that aspect of the human being which can only be grasped through the imagination, where one must look at the human being—already in terms of his form, when he stands before us—in such a way that one says to oneself: Yes, human beings have as many bones as the higher animals, but these bones are set apart from certain forms; they are given different forms. One can examine the metabolism of higher animals, and one can then observe the metabolism of human beings. When one looks at it with imaginative insight, one will find it set apart; one will find that human beings are placed differently in the world when one spiritually penetrates the whole from the standpoint of imaginative insight.

[ 39 ] But what is happening here? What is happening, in fact, is nothing less than the gradual transformation of what is otherwise abstract intellectual and observational knowledge into artistic perception. Now, — my esteemed audience —, one may rail as much as one likes against this artistic apprehension of humanity, even after having examined the entire animal kingdom using the methods of conventional science. One might say: Science, after all, does not apprehend things artistically. Certainly, someone can find the most elegant logical arguments to prove that art [has nothing to do with] science in this regard. Let him do so; one will agree with him regarding everything he logically deduces and concludes. One will agree with all those who say: Science, as we understand it, must not be influenced by any artistic apprehension of reality.

[ 40 ] But there is another side to this, ladies and gentlemen. If reality is such that it does not yield to this kind of cognition, if reality is such that one can only approach it through artistic comprehension—by transforming abstract concepts into imaginative-artistic forms—then no matter how long people may debate that art has nothing to do with science, then one must simply admit that, with one’s science, one remains outside of reality and that, if one wishes to enter into this reality, one must transform this science into an artistic grasp of reality. But this is precisely where anthroposophically oriented spiritual science leads. Reality does not reveal itself to those abstractions and scientific methods—not even to those who work with telescopes and microscopes, or with X-ray machines and spectral analysis; reality does not reveal itself to this mode of thinking derived solely from external nature, not even with regard to the human form; rather, reality reveals itself in relation to the human form only when the concepts gained through science are transformed into art at the highest level. Then one also views the human form artistically. And it is to this artistic grasping—to this artistic grasping—that anthroposophically oriented spiritual science leads.

[ 41 ] Certain questions that arise specifically for human beings—questions that stand, for example, as the most profound mysteries of life and the world, such as in medicine and the healing arts, where the human being must be treated as such—can only be resolved through such an imaginative, artistic observation of the human being. It is not merely the external form that comes into play; it extends all the way into the transformation of matter; everything that lies within the individual organ is unraveled, before that sensibility which does not shy away from abstract knowledge—knowledge that will never bridge the gap between pathology and therapy—and which does not shy away from elevating this abstract and purely externally observed knowledge to an artistic grasp of what constitutes human form, but also inner human form, within the process of metabolic transformation.

[ 42 ] You see—my esteemed audience—this is part of the mission of the Goetheanum in Dornach. We do not deny the work being done in the laboratories, in the physics institutes, at the clinic, or at the astronomical observatory; on the contrary, we wish to establish precisely such institutions, illuminated by our spirit, so that the methods of spiritual science can be brought into them. This is what currently exists in Dornach as a central building—the Goetheanum. It is precisely such institutions that must be affiliated with it, so that the methodology carried into the laboratory and the physics institute is one that, through experiments and observation, simultaneously reveals the spirit; and at the same time, that which, for example, in the field of medicine bridges the gap between pathology and therapy—where, in therapy, one must derive remedies from the greater world, the macrocosm, and apply them to the human being, the microcosm.

[ 43 ] This is what—my esteemed audience—intrinsically ensures that the Dornach Method, through its rigorous scientific approach, leads us into the realm of art itself, by demonstrating that when a person develops the powers of their soul, they rise from ordinary cognition and the science of everyday life to the realm of imagination, at the same time, one ascends to that point where science, while remaining strictly scientific, enters into artistic comprehension. One returns once again to what Goethe had already sensed. In a modern sense, what was at the starting point of human development—and what had to differentiate and separate itself for a time in the course of human development so that civilization could advance, but which would now shatter the human being if he did not find the union again—is being developed.

[ 44 ] But we must not somehow artificially graft the artistic onto the scientific; symbolism or allegory is entirely foreign to us—rather, we want to shape reality itself. We want to be scientific, much more rigorously than is customary today in our educational institutions. But precisely because we have the scientific method and wish not only to conceive of its goal but to experience it, that very essence of scientific life—which enables full reality to be grasped—flows into an artistic grasp. And that is why we can, in turn, grasp reality from the spirit itself in what we represent externally, in artistic forms.

[ 45 ] This is what, from the inner nature of anthroposophically oriented spiritual science, builds the bridge between science and art—that bridge which once existed, that bridge which must be rediscovered and which will bear fruit for all individual scientific fields, but which will also lead to a state where what we develop from the most diverse scientific fields our soul will be so inspired that our ideas will not remain dry, empty, abstract, pedantic, or philistine, but will come to life within our soul—both as science and as art—not as allegorical, straw-like art, but as an art that brings into this outer, sensory reality a sensory image of the supersensory, spiritual world.

[ 46 ] And—my esteemed audience—that is what inspiration is all about. It is the next stage beyond imagination, as you can follow in the books mentioned. Here, the spiritual that permeates the world reveals itself within the human being—not merely in the sense that images fill him, as in imagination, but the spiritual itself penetrates him.

[ 47 ] Anyone who seeks to deny this spiritual aspect stands, in a higher sense, in the same relationship to the world as someone who would claim that human beings do not live on the air they breathe in, which they in turn exhale back into the outside world. After all, at this very moment, a human being is inwardly that which was just a moment ago outside of him. He processes this air internally; he exhales it again. Just as one cannot claim that this air flows out of an organism, but rather that it is what connects him to the entire vast world, so it is with the spiritual. A person experiences something spiritual within themselves. But this spiritual aspect is such that it stands in relation to all the rest of the world’s spirituality. There is a continuous inhaling and exhaling of the spiritual within the person. I can only hint at this here. It is that which becomes conscious within a person as being so when he rises to the method of knowledge known as inspiration. He then experiences within himself that which is otherwise experienced throughout the world as the spiritual; it is that which he experiences in the air that is within him and processed within him, and in the air that is outside of him. But by experiencing this inspiration, they experience the spirituality of the world. They imbue themselves inwardly with that which, as the divine-spiritual, permeates the world. That which is the soul can only be understood when it is understood as a part of the spirituality of the entire world. Therefore, only inspiration can reveal to us the essence of the human soul. Just as we rise, on the one hand, through imagination from mere external cognition, from mere knowledge, to an artistic grasp of full reality, so too can we rise to a grasp of the soul only through inspiration. And it is this very inspiration that permeates the soul with the living knowledge within it of its eternal character, its eternal essence, and its supersensible essence. We do not need a separate realm of truth based on faith, but rather the elevation of the realm of knowledge itself to inspired knowledge, which reveals to us the very essence of our soul.

[ 48 ] I will speak in greater detail about this relationship between the spiritual-essential, the immortal aspect of the soul, and what is called the “inner nature” in tomorrow’s lecture, following on from what was discussed today. For now, I will simply say that what the soul must experience as its most essential reality must be drawn precisely from what in earlier times was also a matter of religious conviction. But because humanity today has educated itself to the point where it can believe in nothing certain except what is scientific, this scientific realm itself must be elevated to the level of the religious.

[ 49 ] Thus, arising from inner knowledge itself, we have at the same time an artistic element and a religious element. This is what anthroposophically oriented spiritual science is meant to reveal to humanity. This is what the building of the Goetheanum in Dornach is meant to be a living testimony to, because this anthroposophically oriented spiritual science seeks to convey the living spirit, not the dead, abstract spirit. That is why it offers artists the opportunity to create artistic forms for the building itself out of that same spirit, and because it conveys the living spirit—not an abstract spirit—it imbues the entire work with a religious atmosphere. It restores what existed at the very beginning of human development as a unity—a scientific, religious, and artistic unity.

[ 50 ] This is precisely what the human spirit needs today if it is to once again engage actively and energetically in social life. From what one takes on board for one’s activities and for the inner mood of the human soul, that which also gives rise to an external, practical judgment can then spring forth. That is why one does not shy away from deriving from what lives in Dornach—which at first could not naturally exist in any other way than by forming the Dornach Goetheanum itself into a unity—that which carries this outward, establishing something like the “Futurum,” which seeks to carry the same kind of judgment, the same way of thinking, into immediate practical life, in order to bring this way of thinking, grounded in reality, into practical life.

[ 51 ] Ladies and gentlemen! This Goetheanum, built as a single, unified structure, was not erected merely to satisfy a whim—to have something whose outward style mirrors what is conceived, pursued, and explored within it—but rather, this Goetheanum was erected as a unified concept for the fundamental reason that what underlies its origin is oriented toward that unity toward which humanity must strive today in light of the tasks of our time, because it strives toward what humanity needs in the broadest sphere of life for the healing of social reality. The Goetheanum in Dornach is designed as it is because the way of thinking that underlies it is intended to address that which, through its fragmentation and lack of unity, has led to the catastrophic state of the present. The Goetheanum does not merely seek to be a model; the Goetheanum seeks to be the place where one can assimilate—intellectually, artistically, creatively, religiously, and emotionally—what is needed today to engage with the great tasks of our time, including the social tasks.

[ 52 ] It must be said once again: Social life does not merely require people to create other institutions. No matter how many other institutions we create that seem paradisiacal to us, if human beings remain antisocial beings—if the social does not well up from the depths of their souls—no social order can possibly emerge. It is human beings themselves who must become social beings. Then the institutions will fall into place once human beings are inwardly imbued with a social spirit in the right way.

[ 53 ] That is what seeks to live in Dornach; that is what we in Dornach wish to entrust to the Goetheanum as its mission—not what the slanderers say, nor what those claim who assert that some obscure sect has established a home for itself on the hill in Dornach. That is not what lies at the heart of Dornach, but rather an honest examination and a heartfelt empathy with the great tasks of our time—immersing ourselves in these great tasks, both those that are given to human knowledge because the great progress of science presents us with new mysteries, and those that are bestowed upon us as new life tasks through the progress of technology. That is why—my dear friends here today—because we have a heart and a mind for this task of knowledge, for these mysteries of knowledge, for these tasks of life and mysteries of life, that is why we are connected when we truly understand what is to be accomplished through the tasks of the Goetheanum in Dornach. For if one views the matter in the right light, then one should at least strive to be able to answer the question: What are the tasks of the Goetheanum in Dornach? They are the very tasks that constitute the great tasks of modern knowledge and modern life.