The Rudolf Steiner Archive

2. Anthroposophical Spiritual Science and the Major Civilizational Questions of Our Time

[ 1 ] Ladies and gentlemen! Anyone who speaks on a topic such as the one that is to be the subject of this evening’s reflection must be earnestly aware that there are numerous human souls today who, drawing both from contemporary currents of thought and from the practical social trends of our time, yearn for a reshaping of reality, for a reshaping of their worldview—souls who feel that [it is] no longer possible, in a certain sense, to simply continue living—spiritually, emotionally, and in social life—with the ideas, feelings, and impulses of the will that have been handed down to us from past centuries and in which we were raised.

[ 2 ] As humanity in the civilized world, we have witnessed, on the one hand, the great, the tremendous advances in the scientific worldview, and we have witnessed the immense achievements of this scientific worldview in the fields of technology and practical life—achievements that, in a sense, accompany us from morning to night at every turn. But along with these tremendous scientific achievements and the practical consequences of these scientific insights in social life, we have also observed something else. Today, a person—and this is true in every area—when, through their regular reading, through everyday life, through everything else that brings us into contact with existence, they allow scientific insights to flow into their being continuously from morning to night in one form or another— he cannot help but ask those questions that are the eternal questions of the human soul and the human spirit—the questions about the immortal nature of the human soul, about the meaning of the entire world, about the meaning of human action itself; he cannot help but ask these questions, the answers to which were once provided to him through religious creeds, he cannot help but—no matter how devoted he may still be to religious creeds today, no matter how much he embraces modern education—link what his soul thinks and feels about these questions, and the impulses driving his actions, to what science has been saying for the past three to four centuries—science that, after all, did not speak in this way to the people of earlier centuries. And this modern person, finding himself in the midst of a life that has become complicated—a life whose character depends entirely on modern technology, into which he is drawn by this modern technology—cannot help but see how his life is dependent on this technology. And he cannot help but say to himself: “Fundamentally, people have become quite different from what they were in the old, simpler conditions throughout the entire civilized world.” And he must then become fully aware of it—he must sense that even in this social context, in terms of how people live together, there are many issues that need to be resolved today.

[ 3 ] Yes, in a certain sense we can even say the following: we can say that scientific knowledge compels us to take it into account. The practical technological achievements that have shaped our modern life compel us to live with them. But neither of these actually provides us with answers to the great questions of human existence; rather, they essentially raise new questions. For anyone who, with an open mind, delves deeply into all that scientific knowledge has to say—in such a grand and significant way—about human beings, their organization, their way of life on Earth, and so on, anyone who engages with all of this, who truly delves into these matters, does not thereby receive answers about the eternal nature of humanity, about the meaning of the world and of existence; on the contrary, they are confronted with deeper, more meaningful questions. And one must ask oneself: Where, then, are the answers to these questions, which have become deeper and more pressing as a result of modern life? For from the perspective of knowledge, the achievements of the natural sciences have not actually provided us with solutions to the great mysteries of the world, but rather with new questions, new mysteries.

[ 4 ] And what about practical life? Well, it is precisely into this practical social life—into this very same realm—that the means of our immense, extensive industry, the means of our far-reaching global commerce, and so on, have been introduced. But it is precisely this practical life that presents us with ethical, moral, and spiritual questions regarding human interaction. And it is precisely what is presented to us there as a mystery concerning human interaction—that is, after all, what stirs people’s minds today as a social issue, what confronts serious-minded people who take life seriously in an often alarming way. Thus, it is also the practical side of life that, in turn, presents humanity with mysteries.

[ 5 ] These enigmatic questions, which approach the human soul from two sides, are now confronted by what the speaker here calls “anthroposophically oriented spiritual science.” For its part, it seeks—first from the foundations of knowledge and then also from the foundations of practical life—those sources within the human being that can lead at least to a partial solution to these enigmatic questions; to that solution to these enigmatic questions which is not only possible for human beings but also necessary—necessary for the reason that it is quite evident to the impartial observer that if life continues in this way, if souls continue to face these pressing questions and become inwardly desolate, and if no new impulses for social life are found from the depths of the human soul, we as humanity would be heading toward decline, and we would be unable to achieve progress with regard to the great questions of civilization facing us today.

[ 6 ] What anthroposophically oriented spiritual science strives for is by no means directed against the findings of the natural sciences. Anything that were directed against these findings of the natural sciences—which have brought so much good to humanity—would be thoroughly amateurish and doomed to superficiality. But precisely because anthroposophically oriented spiritual science devotes itself in all seriousness to the fruits that natural science has truly yielded for modern humanity, it arrives at conclusions different from those reached today by scientific investigations or similar endeavors conducted everywhere in everyday life.

[ 7 ] One follows the same path in the field of anthroposophically oriented spiritual science, but this path is continued in a certain way. And to illustrate—to make it clear—how anthroposophical spiritual science relates to research in the natural sciences, I would like to use a comparison. I am certainly not using it to immodestly link what anthroposophy has been able to achieve so far to a world-historical event, or to suggest that it is in any way comparable to that event. It is meant to be merely a comparison, and I can certainly leave it up to those who wish to mock it to decide whether they will mock such a comparison as well. When Columbus set out on his voyage across the ocean, it was by no means clear to him where he would end up. At that time, people faced the problem of global travel—which Columbus subsequently introduced into civilization—in one of two ways: either they paid no heed to the great unknown lying across the sea and remained in the places they already called home; or people faced it by venturing out onto the vast ocean, like Columbus and his men, but even then they did not hope to discover an America or anything of the sort. One simply wanted to find another route to India, from the other side. One wanted to reach what was, in fact, already known. Just as, I would say, it was with Columbus, who wanted to reach something already known from the other side but then found something entirely different along the way—something new—so it is with the spiritual scientist who seriously engages in scientific research. Usually, when engaging with scientific investigations, people stick to what they already have—to the observation of sensory phenomena and the intellectual synthesis of what these sensory phenomena present. Or, when one arms oneself with the instruments and tools that further aid observation—the telescope, the microscope, the spectroscope, the X-ray machine— and then equips oneself with the meticulous, excellent method of thought characteristic of the modern sciences—when one ventures out with all of this into the sea of research, one still hopes, on the other hand, to find only something familiar, something that is indeed similar, but precisely similar to what one already has: atoms, molecules with complex movements—in other words, a world lying beneath the carpet that is spread out as the sensory world; a world that is described as consisting of small movements, tiny particles, and the like, but which is, at its core, similar to what one already has here and sees with one’s eyes, touches with one’s hands, and so on. For that is what ultimately underlies this supersensory world of the natural scientists.

[ 8 ] But the person who, through anthroposophical spiritual science, ventures into this sea of research with the same seriousness—only going further—will arrive at something different. Along the way, they do not encounter the familiar world of atoms and molecules, but rather become aware of this: What are you actually doing when you investigate nature in the way that people have done in recent centuries? What is going on within you during your research? What is your soul doing at the observatory or in the clinic as you conduct your research? Your soul—so says the one who combines a measure of self-observation with what he is doing there—your soul works in a thoroughly spiritual way; but it works by attempting to investigate the development of animals all the way up to human beings, by attempting to penetrate the movements of the stars, in a way that people did not work in the past. But admittedly, humanity did not always view it that way. It did not always say to itself: As I explore nature, it is the spirit, the soul, that is actually at work within me, and I must recognize this spirit, this soul.

[ 9 ] Ladies and gentlemen, what anthroposophically oriented spiritual science presents as its findings has actually been gained through the path of natural science. It has been gained in the same way that Columbus discovered the unknown Americas. But what takes place there—what becomes conscious as spirit and soul within the true researcher—can then be further cultivated and developed. Through this, one attains a genuine understanding of what spirit is in the human soul. And the methods for cultivating what I have just indicated—what is indeed active in the human soul of the modern natural scientist—these methods for developing it are, after all, the task of the anthroposophically oriented spiritual science referred to here. For this spiritual science, however, a very specific starting point must be chosen. One must start from what one might call “intellectual humility.”

[ 10 ] Yes, one must possess this intellectual humility to such an extent that the comparison I am about to use—and I mean it only as a comparison—is entirely justified. One must ask oneself: If, for example, you were to hand a five-year-old child a volume of Shakespeare, what would the child do with it? It would tear it up or play with it in some other way. Once the child has progressed ten to fifteen years in its development, it will no longer tear up the volume of Shakespeare, but will do with it what is appropriate for a volume of Shakespeare. Even as a five-year-old, the child already possessed certain abilities within its soul; these could be drawn out and developed, and through the development of these abilities, the child has indeed become a different person than it was before. Is one capable, as an adult—as a person who has already attained the ordinary development of everyday life and conventional science—of mustering the intellectual humility to say to oneself: When faced with the mysteries of nature, I am essentially in the same position as the five-year-old child is when faced with the volume of Shakespeare? There are surely still abilities within me that are hidden, that I can draw out, that I can develop and unfold from my soul, and I must advance my inner life through self-education; then I will be able to face the whole of nature anew in a similar way to how a child, having grown beyond its five-year-old state, faces the works of Shakespeare anew when it has reached the age of fifteen or twenty. And I must speak to you of the methods through which such powers, lying within every human soul, can be developed out of that human soul. For through the development of these methods, we do indeed gain a completely new insight into nature and into human existence. These methods are, in a certain sense, intuited by the modern, searching human soul, but in the broadest circles, people have not yet gone beyond these intuitions.

[ 11 ] You see, the fact is that there are already many people among us who say to themselves: When we look back to ancient times or when we look, for example, to the Orient, where the remnants—albeit the decadent remnants—of an ancient human wisdom have been preserved, there is still something there where knowledge, that which is called science, simultaneously takes on a religious character, where the human soul can find a certain satisfaction regarding the world and its own existence. And because we see this—and because even the external science of anthropology has brought to light insights of a very profound nature regarding ancient human worldviews within our civilized life—many people long for those earlier states of the soul. They wish to revive ancient wisdom and to spread throughout the West—in accordance with the saying “Ex Oriente Lux”—what has been preserved of such ancient wisdom in the East. Such people, who yearn for a form of knowledge that is not of our own age, do not understand the meaning of human evolution. For every age has its own particular tasks for humanity in all areas of life. We cannot fill our souls today with the very things with which our ancestors filled their souls centuries or millennia ago as their treasures of wisdom. But we can, in a certain way, take our cue from how those ancestors did it, and then we can seek a path of our own into the supersensible realm once again. For the human soul senses that, in the depths of its being, it is connected not to the sensory nature with which the body is linked, but to a supersensory nature with which the eternal aspect of the soul and the soul’s eternal destiny are connected.

[ 12 ] In earlier centuries or millennia, our ancestors held a very specific view of the relationship between human beings and that world to which we belong beyond birth and death. These were very specific ideas that filled the soul with deep sensations and feelings, linked to embarking on this path into the supersensible world, toward supersensible insights. And there is one notion in particular that filled those who hear it resounding in all its depth from ancient times with a shudder: it is the notion of the Guardian of the Threshold, of the threshold that one must cross if one wishes to ascend from ordinary knowledge—which guides us in everyday life and in ordinary science—to true knowledge of the spirit and the soul. In ancient times, people sensed that there is an abyss between what constitutes ordinary knowledge and what provides true insight into the nature of the soul. And it was a very real sensation for these people that something stood at this threshold—a being of a non-human nature, a spiritual being—that guarded them from crossing this threshold before they were sufficiently prepared. The leaders of the ancient schools of wisdom—which are also known as the Mysteries—would not allow anyone to cross this threshold unless they had first been properly prepared, particularly through a certain discipline of the will. We can understand why this was so by considering a very simple example.

[ 13 ] Today, as human beings, we are quite proud that for centuries we have held a different outward worldview regarding our solar system and the rest of the universe than that of the Middle Ages—or, in our view, than that of antiquity. We are proud of the Copernican worldview, and from a certain point of view, rightly so. We say: We have the heliocentric worldview as opposed to the geocentric worldview of the Middle Ages and antiquity, when people imagined that the Earth was stationary and that the Sun and the stars moved around the Earth. Today we know how the Earth orbits the Sun at tremendous speed, and from the observations resulting from this, we calculate what we then have as a worldview of our solar or planetary system. And we look back at the Middle Ages and know that it had a worldview that, in a certain sense, can be called childish in comparison to this heliocentric system. But if we go further back—for example, even to a few centuries before the birth of Christ—we find that in ancient Greece, for instance with Aristarchus of Samos, a heliocentric worldview had already been proposed; Plutarch tells us about this. This worldview of Aristarchus of Samos does not differ in its main features at all from what everyone today learns as the correct view even in the earliest grades of school. At that time, however, Aristarchus of Samos revealed this only to wider circles; otherwise, it was taught only within the more restricted circles of the mysteries. It was made accessible only to those who had first been prepared by the leaders of the schools of wisdom. It was said: A person with ordinary consciousness is not suited to receive such a worldview; between that person and this worldview, the threshold to the spiritual world must be erected; he must be protected by the Keeper of the Threshold from experiencing, unprepared, such things as the heliocentric system or many other concepts that are now common knowledge among the educated, but which were withheld from the ancients if they were not sufficiently prepared.

[ 14 ] Why were these things kept from people back then? Well, our historical understanding usually does not extend into the depths of human soul development. In the historical science that is commonplace today, people are not told how the constitution of the human soul has changed over the course of centuries and millennia. Even in Greek and Roman times, and in the early Middle Ages, the human soul was in a completely different state than it is today. People derived a consciousness of the world, an understanding of the world, from their instincts and from very vague, half-dreamlike states of mind. We today cannot even begin to conceive of this understanding of the world. When we pick up works from that era that might be called scientific—whatever one may think of them, one may call them superstitious—and from the perspective of today’s education, one would certainly be right to do so—but the distinctive character of these works was that nowhere did people view minerals, plants, and animals, rivers and clouds, or watch the stars rise and set in such a dry, sober, and spiritless manner without simultaneously perceiving the spirit in nature. In every stone they perceived the spiritual-soul aspect, in every plant, in every animal, in the movement of the clouds, in all of nature. Human beings felt the spiritual-soul aspect within themselves, and what they felt within themselves was also spread out before them in the outer world. They did not yet feel as separated from the outer world as human beings do today. On the other hand, however, their sense of self was also weaker. And one could rightly say in the early days of human development: If one were to tell a person something like the heliocentric system—as it was revealed to the sages—if one were to tell them that the Earth orbits through space at tremendous speed, they would succumb to a state of spiritual faintness.

[ 15 ] Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is a historical truth. It is just as much a historical truth as the historical truths we learn in school about Alcibiades and the Peloponnesian and Persian Wars. But there is one truth we do not usually learn: that the Greek soul was of a different nature than the human soul of today. It was more dulled with regard to the powers of inner self-awareness. The wise leaders of the Mysteries would have been right to fear that these souls—if they had been led unprepared into the supersensible insights, indeed even into those insights that are now common knowledge among all educated people—would have fallen into spiritual helplessness. Therefore, it was said, human souls must first be made strong and courageous through the discipline of the will, so that they can endure having their self-awareness led into a world entirely different from the ordinary one. And the souls must be made fearless in the face of the unknown into which they were to enter. Fearlessness in the face of the unknown, a courageous grasp of that which—according to the view of the ancients—literally causes one to lose the ground beneath one’s feet—for when one no longer stands on the stationary earth, one does indeed lose the ground beneath one’s feet— a courageous state of mind, fearlessness, and many other qualities were what prepared the students of the schools of wisdom to cross the abyss and enter the spiritual, supersensible world.

[ 16 ] And what did they learn then? They learned—and this is the surprising, paradoxical part—they learned precisely what we [all] learn today in elementary school, what is inherent in us as a form of knowledge that belongs to all educated people. That was precisely what the ancients actually feared, what they first had to be courageously trained to face. Thus, the human soul has developed over the centuries to the point where it is now in a completely different state; what could only be given to the ancients after arduous preparation is already given to us today in elementary school. We have, in essence, crossed the threshold that the ancients were only permitted to cross after long preparation. But we must also bear the consequences of crossing that threshold. We stand before what the ancients feared, for which they first had to cultivate courage; but we have also lost something. What we have lost within our modern civilization is pointed out to us, on the one hand, by those who, precisely as the serious researchers of our contemporary science, dwell on what we cannot know. And why this is so must, in essence, be explained by those who, drawing on serious spiritual science, now confront such facts as I have just described to you.

[ 17 ] Since the time of Galileo, Copernicus, and Kepler, we have attained a completely different sense of self-awareness. We have advanced to abstract thinking. We are developing intellectuality to a degree that the ancients did not achieve in their limited consciousness. That is why we possess such a strong sense of self-awareness that we can step into the world—a world into which the ancients could only enter after careful preparation. But we enter this world—as the most impartial researchers, who speak of *ignorabimus*, of the limits of knowledge, and so on, clearly demonstrate—with a highly developed sense of self, a sense of self strongly developed through thinking and intellectuality that the ancients did not possess; yet within this strong sense of self, we lack a connection to the deeper foundations of the world. We have attained a sense of self-assertion, a strengthening of self-awareness; but we have lost our understanding of the world. We no longer gain from instinct the kind of connection that people were still able to attain in the tenth and twelfth centuries. We must therefore speak of a new threshold into the spiritual world. Through our strengthened self-awareness, we must once again develop something that now leads us into the spiritual, the supersensible world—a world into which we cannot enter instinctively, as the ancients [still] could. Just as the ancients developed, through self-discipline, a strengthened sense of self-awareness in order to endure the world into which we enter unprepared, so must we prepare ourselves once more for something else. We must likewise prepare ourselves to develop within us the powers slumbering in our souls, to which we become attentive through intellectual humility.

[ 18 ] You see, this approach is based primarily on two very well-known forces in the human soul, not on some obscure elements or the like within the human soul. In serious spiritual science, one starts with two forces that are absolutely essential to human life, but one develops them further. One tells oneself: In ordinary life, these forces are only at the beginning of their development; one continues this development through one’s own work on oneself. One of the forces that is developed in this way is what is called the human capacity for memory. It is through this capacity for memory that we are, in fact, an “I.” It is through this capacity for memory that we have ordinary self-consciousness. We look back to a certain year in our childhood, and there, in images of memory, the experiences we’ve had emerge—more or less faded and shadowed, but they do emerge. And we know from standard medical literature—anyone can verify that this is so—we know what it means when a period of our life is erased, when we cannot remember anything from the course of our life. We are then mentally ill. Such an illness ranks among the most severe mental and spiritual disorders. But this power of memory, which is so necessary for ordinary life, is in this ordinary life entirely bound to the body, to the human physique—everyone feels this. And those who are more materialistically minded point out how this dependence manifests itself: how certain organs or parts of the body need only be injured, and memory is likewise impaired, interrupted, or destroyed. This capacity for memory, however, can become the starting point for developing a new, higher soul power from within it, and this occurs in the manner I have described in my book *How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?*, in my *Secret Science*, and in other writings. There I have shown how, through what I call meditation—which, in a technical sense, is concentration on certain worlds of thought, worlds of feeling, and worlds of volitional impulses—one can develop the power of memory into something higher.

[ 19 ] What, then, is so distinctive about memories? Normally, we form our mental images and thoughts based on the external world; they flit by, just as the external world flits past us. Through memory, we constantly relive what we have experienced. Even years later, we can draw up from the deepest depths what we have experienced. Through memory, these mental images are constantly present within us. We make use of this in meditation and concentration when we seek to become spiritual researchers. We form—or we seek guidance from those who are knowledgeable in these matters—mental images that are easily comprehensible; concepts that cannot arise from the subconscious, nor can they be reminiscences of life—concepts that we can grasp as precisely as we grasp mathematical or geometric concepts. Then we rest our soul upon these concepts. The development of these methods is truly no easier than clinical research, research in a physics or chemistry institute, or at an observatory. It is, admittedly, an inner work of the soul, but it is certainly serious work on the part of the soul. It can take years; for some, it may take less time, depending on the individual’s inner destiny, but it always takes some time before this rest—constantly evoked again and again upon specific concepts—can lead to anything. Of course, these exercises must not disrupt the rest of one’s life; one remains a sensible, capable person, for these exercises take only a short time. They must, however, be sustained over a long period; then they will become what one might call a higher form of the power of memory. We then perceive something in our soul that lives just as vividly as the thoughts of the experiences we have gone through. Only we know that what now lives in our soul does not relate to anything we have experienced in life since birth; rather, just as we otherwise have images of such experiences, we now have other images. I called them “imaginations” in my writings. We have images as vivid as those of memory, but they are not connected to what we have experienced in ordinary life; rather, we become aware that these imaginations do not refer to anything we have experienced in ordinary life, but to something that lies outside of us, in the spiritual world.

[ 20 ] And we learn to recognize what it means to live outside the human body. Through our memory, we are bound to our body. With this developed, trained memory, we are no longer bound to the body, and something now begins that we can describe as similar to—yet at the same time quite different from—the state a person experiences from falling asleep to waking up. During this time—from falling asleep to waking up—one is usually unconscious; consciousness is extinguished because one does not see with one’s eyes or hear with one’s ears. One is in this state when one uses the developed power of memory. One does not perceive with the eyes and ears; one does not even perceive the warmth in one’s surroundings; yet one does not live unconsciously as in sleep, but rather lives in a world of ideas, in a world of perceptions. One now perceives a spiritual world. It is truly as if a person were beginning to fall asleep, but were not slipping into the dullness of unconsciousness, but rather into another world. One perceives this other world through the developed power of memory. And one now learns to recognize, as a first insight, what I would like to call the “memory tableau”—but the developed memory tableau of this life extending back to birth. This is, in a sense, the first supersensible perception.

[ 21 ] Otherwise, one has memories of one’s life; one lets images rise to the surface—memories—from the stream of life. But that is not the case when one looks back on life through this supernaturally developed faculty of memory. There, the entire stream of life coalesces into a single image that can be grasped in an instant—like something spatial. What otherwise appears only as individual fragments of memory unfolding over time becomes a coherent stream when we attain this independence from our physical body. Then—once we have become accustomed to imagining independently of the body, just as a sleeping person would imagine if they could—what develops is what one might call a true contemplation of what falling asleep, what waking up, and what sleep itself really is. One learns to recognize how that which is spiritual-psychic in the human being truly manifests itself—not spatially, but dynamically, though it is still correctly described in this way—how it usually remains unconscious, how the human being can, however, develop consciousness outside the body, and how this consciousness consists in the spiritual-psychic aspect re-immersing itself into the body. And once one has developed this understanding, one can gradually ascend to further concepts.

[ 22 ] If one can form a conception of what a human being is while asleep—as a living spiritual-soul being—then, by working ever further and further with one’s memory developed in the manner described, one will come to recognize the spiritual-soul aspect as it lived in a purely spiritual world before descending into the physical world through birth or conception. One learns, in particular, to distinguish: The sleeping human being has within them a sensory-supersensory longing to return to the physical body lying in bed and to enliven it spiritually and soulfully. But one also comes to recognize this force as a powerful force within the soul that is waiting to be received by a physical body—a body that comes from the father and mother through the physical stream of heredity—and one learns to perceive how this soul descends from the spiritual-soul world and permeates the body. One gains knowledge of how our soul lives spiritually and psychically before birth. One comes to know the eternal in the human soul. It is no longer a matter of faith that binds one to this eternal aspect of the human soul, but rather a knowledge attained through supersensible vision. And through this one also gains an understanding of the great falling asleep that a human being undergoes when passing through the gate of death. Just as consciousness is merely dulled, not lost, in sleep, so it is with the human soul as it passes through the gate of death—only here the process is reversed: While a person, when falling asleep and wishing to return to this body, clings to the body and thereby has their consciousness subdued during ordinary sleep, their consciousness expands when they pass through the gate of death, because they have no desire for the body. Only after the soul has lived for a long time in the spiritual world does something arise again that could be compared to the age of the physical body as it is reached at the age of 35. When the soul has lived for a time after death, a longing arises once more to return to the body, and the soul begins its journey toward a new earthly life. I have repeatedly described in detail these experiences of the human being between death and a new birth. When one describes these things, they are still often ridiculed and mocked by people today, and regarded as fanciful. But those who regard what is gained in this way as fanciful should at the same time regard mathematical concepts as fanciful, for what is gained in this way is just as real as what is found through rigorous and serious scientific research.

[ 23 ] And a powerful, significant mental image arises. Isn’t it true that when we have a memory, we actually have something we experienced years ago before our soul? We have before our soul as an image what we experienced there. When we have before us what we possess not through ordinary memory but through our developed power of recollection, we have before us that spiritual world in which we exist as sleeping human beings, but in which we also exist before we descend into earthly life. We have before us that which does not appear to the senses in the external world around us, but which appears to the spiritual eye, the eye of the soul. We have the spiritual depths, the vastness of the worlds, before us. We ascend once more, past a new guardian of the threshold, across a new threshold, into the supersensible world, to the spiritual background of natural existence to which we belong. There it emerges like a powerful memory made of stone and clouds and all that exists in the realms of nature. This is what a stone looks like to the physical eye, and this is what a cloud looks like. To the spiritual eye, something appears with which we are kindred, because we lived within it before our birth or conception. There lies the great memory of the world. And as this world memory of our own supersensible existence before our birth arises—as our Eternal Self thus appears to us from the outer world before the spiritual eye—we simultaneously receive a world tableau of the spirit that is spread out in the world around us. We attain a true spiritual knowledge of the world.

[ 24 ] Spiritual science must address these matters, for this is something that simply must find its way into modern civilization, just as the Copernican and Galilean worldviews did several centuries ago. Just as these ideas were rejected back then—regarded as paradoxical and fanciful—so too is spiritual science viewed today as mere fantasy. But people will take these ideas into their souls and will come to possess what I am about to mention—not only for the inner, spiritual realm, but also for the outer, social realm, and for the whole of human existence. For now, however, I must point out that another faculty of cognition must be developed in order to attain full spiritual knowledge.

[ 25 ] People will still concede that one can develop one’s memory into a faculty of cognition. But perhaps it is precisely the strict scientists who will not accept the second faculty I must mention as a faculty of cognition; and yet it is—though not as it appears in everyday life, but when it is developed—a true faculty of cognition: it is the power of love.

[ 26 ] In ordinary life, love is bound to human instincts, to the human life of drives; but just as one can extract the capacity for memory from ordinary life, one can also extract this love. One can also become independent of the human body with regard to love. The power of love can be developed by attaining true objectivity through it. While in ordinary life one loves because one’s inner self spurs one on to this love, one can develop this love in such a way that one immerses oneself in external objects, becoming completely one with the external object in a state of self-forgetfulness. When one acts in such a way that one does not act out of inner impulses stemming from drives or instincts, but rather acts out of love for external events, then that is the very love that is, at the same time, the power of human freedom. That is why I already stated in the book I published in 1893 under the title *Philosophy of Freedom* that, in a higher sense, the saying “love is blind” is not true; rather, I said that love makes one see clearly. And the one who finds his way into the world through love truly sets himself free, for he frees himself from the inner instincts and drives that enslave him; he knows how to immerse himself in the world of external facts and events and to let the world dictate his actions; and then he can certainly act as a free human being in the sense of what ought to happen, no longer carried and guided by his instincts and drives. Just as I sought in my *Philosophy of Freedom* to provide a foundation for a free social sensibility within modern civilization—for that which can truly establish a social life from the very depths of the human being—so it must also be said that this love must be developed as a power of cognition, for example, by cultivating a keen power of observation for that which is renewed in us every day.

[ 27 ] Let’s be honest, my esteemed audience, honest with ourselves: Aren’t we, deep down, a different person every single day? Life drives us; what other people see in us, what we experience in them—all of it drives us. When we think back to who we were ten years ago, we’ll admit to ourselves: We were something completely different from what we have become today, and, deep down, we are something different every single day. But in our everyday lives, we simply let ourselves be carried along. This is what the spiritual researcher must accomplish through the discipline of the will—he must, so to speak, take this development of the will into his own hands and observe himself: What has influenced you today? What has changed your inner life today? What has changed your inner life over the past ten or twenty years? What has taken place within you? On the one hand, one must do this; on the other hand, however, one must do something else as well. One must give oneself very specific impulses and drives so that one does not simply live in a way that is changed from the outside—where life is altered by external forces—but must, as it were, stand beside oneself as one’s own observer and watch one’s own will and actions. If one does this, one will simply arrive, in a lawful manner, at the development of that higher love which is wholly absorbed in the objects.

[ 28 ] And when we develop these two soul forces—on the one hand, the power of memory, which is freed from the body, and on the other hand, the power of love, which is what truly unites us with our true spiritual being and leads us to a higher sense of self—then we cross the threshold into a spiritual world. Then our external knowledge of nature is complemented in such a way that we can enrich all the individual sciences through this anthroposophically oriented spiritual science.

[ 29 ] I was still around when, at a famous medical school, the leading medical authorities were speaking of “medical nihilism.” They spoke of medical nihilism because people had gradually come to conclude that, when it comes to typical diseases, cures simply cannot be found. In modern scientific life, we have lost touch with nature; we no longer grasp the bigger picture. At most, we test this or that substance to see if it has a curative effect on this or that disease, but we fail to see the bigger picture. Through spiritual science, one gains insight into plant life—the individual plants and the great differences that exist between root life, leaf life, and flower life—and one also gains insight into the relationships of the spiritual being that lies behind them: behind the root life, the leaf life, the flower life, and the herbaceous life of plants. One gains insight into how this relates to the human being, who has developed as a whole person out of this natural world. One gains a perspective on the relationships between animals, plants, and minerals and the human being, and through this, one arrives at a rational form of therapy. Medicine can be enriched in this way. Last spring, I myself held a course for doctors, medical professionals, and medical students in which I demonstrated how this spiritual insight can enrich not only the study of remedies but also pathology—the understanding of diseases.

[ 30 ] And so all the individual sciences can be enriched by what constitutes spiritual knowledge. By attaining this spiritual insight—by truly growing together with what we once were, with the spiritual-soul life that now works within our physical body—we gain a completely different understanding of human nature than that provided by conventional science. Conventional science seeks only logical, abstract, and clearly defined concepts regarding nature and human existence, and it is said: It is not true science unless such abstract laws can be derived. Yes, my esteemed audience, but if nature does not operate according to such abstract laws, then we humans can go on and on about such laws for a long time; we only limit our understanding by seeking to advance in science solely through logical abstraction, by indulging solely in abstract experiments. Then nature could easily say: Under such circumstances, I will not reveal any insights about human beings.

[ 31 ] By approaching nature through spiritual science, one comes to recognize that nature does not create according to laws, but according to principles that can only be attained through artistic contemplation and true imagination. No abstract laws, no observation of the kind practiced in conventional science, can enable us to fathom the wondrous mystery of the human form, of the entire human organism. We must elevate and allow to grow what we gain in elementary knowledge into imaginative perception. Then true human nature reveals itself, and thus an artistic perception of the human being springs forth from spiritual knowledge.

[ 32 ] This, however, builds a bridge from spiritual knowledge to art. For those who devote themselves to knowledge in the sense of the anthroposophical spiritual science referred to here, knowledge remains something that is not merely external. Nor, if he is an artist, does he create dry symbols, nor didactic theories, or the like; rather, he perceives forms in spiritual life and is able to imprint them upon the material. Through this path, a renewal of art is simultaneously brought about. We can indeed experience this if we are open-minded. The old artists created something great and powerful. How did they create? First, in centuries past, they looked with their senses at external matter. Take Rembrandt or Raphael, for example; they looked at external matter in their own time; they knew how to grasp the spiritual from the external, sensory reality and to portray it. The essence of their art lay in the idealization of the real. Anyone who looks impartially at this art, as it has developed, knows that the time of this art has passed, that nothing new can be created in this way. Spiritual science leads into spiritual vision. Spiritual forms are perceived in spiritual-soul vitality. And with the same reality, with the same sense of reality, as was once used in artistic creation—where reality was idealized—artistic creation is now beginning through the realization of the spiritual. In the past, the artist drew the spirit from matter; now the spirit is carried into matter—but not in an allegorical or symbolic way; only those who cannot imagine how immediately real that which can be created as new art is believe this.

[ 33 ] Thus we see how this spiritual science truly leads to genuine art. But it also leads to a genuine religious life. It is curious that there are critics of this spiritual science today who say: Spiritual science seeks to bring down into everyday life that which should only be felt in sublime heights as the divine world. Yes, that is what this spiritual science aims to do. It seeks to enable human beings to be so filled with spiritual and soulful existence through the knowledge of the supersensible worlds that the spirit is not merely grasped in a mystical haze or experienced in an otherworldly manner through asceticism, but that this spirit can be carried into every aspect of practical life. People believe they have already achieved a great deal simply by providing another person with an education. So that when they slam the factory gate behind them, they consider their work done; that they can then have all sorts of beautiful, idealistic thoughts once outside. But a person cannot yet experience their full humanity if they must first slam the factory gate behind them in order to then devote themselves to the elevation of their soul. No, if we want to solve the great problems of civilization to any degree, we must take a step further: we must carry the spirit with us when we enter the factory through the factory gate, by imbuing the work we do in everyday life with that spirit. That is what desolates life; that is what has ultimately brought about this catastrophic era—that we have created an external, spiritless life, a mere mechanism of life.

[ 34 ] Spiritual science fulfills the whole human being. It will be able to carry the spirit from within the human being back into even the most practical, seemingly most mundane areas of life. And so everyday life—where we work for others, where we stand at the machine, where we contribute to the whole through the division of labor—will be imbued with spirit when spiritual science, which can be both knowledge and religious fervor, enters into life. It will itself be a social force. It will stand by people as they work in this way. Economic life—the outer, practical realm—will be transformed by a science that possesses not merely an abstract spirit in concepts and ideas, but a living spirit, and which can therefore also fill life with this living spirit.

[ 35 ] Ladies and gentlemen, an approach that seeks only to reform external institutions cannot lead us to a solution to the social question. We live in an age in which social demands are being made. But we also live in an age in which people are highly antisocial. An insight such as the one I have described will also bring social impulses among people that can solve the great mysteries posed to us by life in a different way than the abstract way of thinking that manifests as Marxism and the like—a way of thinking that can only destroy, because it arises from abstractness, because it kills the spirit, whereas only the spirit can make life truly alive. This is what spiritual science, in a certain sense, promises of itself: that it can not only give the soul satisfaction in its connection with the eternal, but that it can also infuse social life with new forces.

[ 36 ] This has led to a desire in spiritual science not to remain stuck at the level of mere mystical views. We do not practice abstract mysticism. We have an approach that does not shy away from crossing the threshold into the spiritual world and leading people into the supersensible world in a new way. But at the same time, we bring what we gain in this way down into the physical-sensory world. This has led to that practical view of life which is set forth in my book *Key Points of the Social Question* and in other writings, and which is advocated by the *League for the Threefold Social Order*. There are still some people who say that spiritual science leads away from the old religion; they claim, for example, that it is anti-Christian. Anyone who familiarizes themselves more closely with this spiritual science will find that it is precisely this science that is capable of once again presenting the mystery of Golgotha and the true meaning of Christianity to humanity. For under the influence of the modern, naturalistic worldview—what has become of the Christ, who must surely be a supersensible being who entered a human body and gave the Earth a new meaning?—what has become of this Christ? The simple man from Nazareth; a mere human being, albeit the most outstanding human being in world history. Once again, a supersensible understanding is needed to grasp Christianity in a way that is absolutely necessary for modern humanity. And it is precisely through this spiritual science that we will be able to arrive at an understanding of Christianity appropriate to modern human beings. Those who speak of a conflict between spiritual science and Christianity—even if they are often the very official representatives of Christianity—strike me as timid, not as true understanders of Christianity. Whenever I hear such timid representatives of Christianity, I am always reminded of a Catholic theologian with whom I was friends, who, in a lecture on Galileo as a professor of Christian [philosophy], said: No scientific discovery can ever diminish Christianity; rather, the knowledge of the divine can only gain when our understanding of the world advances ever further and presents this divine in ever greater glory. That is why we should think highly of Christianity and say: It is so well-founded that thousands of non-spiritual and spiritual insights will enter into humanity; they will not diminish this Christianity, but rather enhance it. But we need a Christianity that intervenes in life, one that does not limit itself to saying, “Lord, Lord!” but that lives out the power of the spiritual in outward action. And such a practical Christianity should live precisely in what is sought through the threefold structure of the social organism.

[ 37 ] The person who just introduced what I had to say today with a few words mentioned that I had also spoken in Holland in 1908 and in 1913. At that time, I could only speak of anthroposophically oriented spiritual science as something that seeks to emerge from one or more human souls in order to resolve the problems of modern civilization.

[ 38 ] But since that time, despite the bitter years of war that have intervened, quite a bit has happened: In Dornach near Basel, the School of Spiritual Science—the Goetheanum—has been under construction since 1913, when we laid the cornerstone. This School of Spiritual Science is intended to serve not only abstract spiritual science, but also to enrich all sciences through spiritual science. That is why, last fall—even though the Goetheanum is not yet complete and still requires much work before it is finished—we held the first course, and we will also hold a second course at Easter, which will, however, be shorter. During the fall courses, thirty speakers took the floor, some of whom are scholars and experts in individual sciences—mathematics, astronomy, physiology, biology, history, sociology, and jurisprudence. But there were also practical people from all walks of life—industrialists, businesspeople, and artists. As I said, thirty speakers demonstrated that what can be gained as spiritual insight can be incorporated into the individual sciences. It was shown that this does not give science a superstitious character, but rather a rational, inner, spiritual character—and thereby a truly realistic character. And so we will endeavor to work in this Goetheanum. This Goetheanum—when you see it—is also constructed in a new artistic form, a new artistic style. In the past, when a scientific institution was built, negotiations would have taken place with this or that architect regarding whether to construct it in the Greek, Gothic, or Renaissance style. Spiritual science could not do this, for it shapes from within itself that which it recognizes as reality—not only in ideas, not only in the laws of nature and the spirit, but also in artistic form.

[ 39 ] It would simply have been a sin against one’s own spiritual life to apply a foreign style—rather than the style that flows artistically from spiritual science itself—to this building. And so you see the embodiment of an attempt at a new architectural style in Dornach, so that when you enter the building, you can say to yourself: Every column, every arch, every painting expresses the same spirit to you. Whether I stand on the podium and speak the content of this spiritual science, or whether I let the columns, the capitals, or something else speak for me—these are different languages, but it is the same spirit that is meant to be expressed in all of this.

[ 40 ] Ladies and gentlemen, this is the answer that anthroposophically oriented spiritual science offers to humanity’s great questions of civilization. For the first of these questions of civilization is the question of true self-knowledge appropriate to the new age. One attains this by crossing the threshold in a new way, as I have described, by gaining through the developed capacity for memory and the developed power of love the powers of insight necessary to perceive the eternal in human nature. And through this, one arrives at a new sense—one worthy of the human being—of what a human being actually is. One approaches one’s fellow human beings in such a way that one respects in them that which is born of the spiritual world, that one sees in them a part of this spiritual world. Through this, human life is ennobled anew in a moral sense, and human interaction is ennobled by the spirit. This is the answer to the second question, the question of social human interaction.

[ 41 ] And the third great question of civilization today is this: that human beings can know that in the deeds and actions I perform here on Earth, I am not merely a being who stands there, whose actions have meaning only between birth and death. Rather, what I do on Earth has global significance; it is part of the whole world. By developing moral ideals within myself, I am developing something that has global significance.

[ 42 ] Let me summarize: Modern natural science separates the external natural world from the inner life of human beings. It views the development of the Earth and the entire planetary system as having originated from a kind of primordial nebula. Human beings were also brought into being. But then, after some time, human beings will disappear. The Earth will sink back into the sun as slag. A field of corpses will spread out. This is what natural science must say when it stands solely on its own ground. But moral ideals arise from the human soul. They are what is most valuable in the human soul. The worldview that has brought us to such a high level of technology has no place for these ideals. Ideals will vanish like smoke. That is why what is called an “ideological worldview” has already taken root in millions upon millions of people. The modern proletariat speaks of morality, law, religion, science, and art as an ideology because the sense of the living spirit has been lost. Once this living spirit is recognized again, people will understand that what lives in the human soul—in the form of moral ideals and spiritual realities—is like the seed in a plant. When what is a plant this year withers away, a new plant develops from the seed.

[ 43 ] Thus, based on insights from the spiritual sciences, we can say to ourselves: The clouds, stars, mountains, springs, stones, plants, animals, and even the physical human being—they will all disappear, just as withered leaves fall from a plant and decay. But just as a new seed sprouts from the plant, so too—not only for the coming year, but for an eternal future—will that which lies dormant as a seed in the human soul in the form of moral ideals come to fruition. And we can repeat the wonderful words of Christ:

[ 44 ] “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words”—that which we develop within the human soul as spiritual knowledge—“will not pass away.”

[ 45 ] We can say that once again a unity stands before us: the passing physical world and the emerging spiritual world. This gives human beings a significance on a global scale. His social life, too, takes on significance. And the empty solutions that torment humanity so much today—and that are bringing such heavy social storm clouds over the East—will disappear when the social question is made a question of worldview; when we try to find the impetus for solutions to this social question also in what human beings can fathom within themselves as a living spirit.

[ 46 ] Thus, the questions of modern civilization will draw their inspiration from the spiritual sciences. We have already made educational attempts in this direction. In Stuttgart, Emil Molt founded the Free Waldorf School, which I direct. It seeks to develop, from a pedagogical perspective, and to convey to the children through artistic and pedagogical means, what can be derived from living spiritual science.

[ 47 ] In short, ladies and gentlemen, the anthroposophically oriented spiritual science feels called upon to reconcile religion, art, and science, and to bring true science, true religion, and true art into the most practical aspects of life. To this end, the Goetheanum in Dornach was built to serve as a first place where such a science can be cultivated in a spirit of free scholarship and free spiritual life. From the beginning and up to the present stage, self-sacrificing people have ensured that the Goetheanum could be built; but as I said earlier: The Goetheanum is not yet complete. Its completion will depend on whether enough people can be found now who understand the necessity of this progress in the world; whether the Goetheanum will remain an unfinished structure, and humanity will say, “We do not want to reawaken the spirit,” or whether, through an understanding of the living spirit, its first sanctuary can be completed. Then others will surely follow. For this is certain: In the long run, the cultivation of an understanding of the living spirit will be necessary in modern civilization. For this is certain: Even those people who hate the spirit as such, who regard spiritual research as something fanciful—even they need the spirit. Seeking souls need the Spirit, and those who do not seek—they need it all the more. And this fact cannot be eliminated from the world. People will seek the Spirit because, if they truly want to be human, they need the Spirit.

[ 48 ] Q&A

[ 49 ] Question: Is it your intention to establish schools in various countries modeled after the Waldorf School, or should the Waldorf School remain a single institution?

[ 50 ] Rudolf Steiner: Well, one truly could not muster the strength necessary to establish a Waldorf school if one did not actually have the desire to see such Waldorf schools established everywhere there are schools of any kind. For the Waldorf School is not based on some whim or personal intentions, but rather on what can be gained as true pedagogical art from that understanding of human nature—including an understanding of the developing human being, the child—which can be attained through spiritual science. In other words, an effort has been made to fathom what must be done with the child until it becomes an adult, so that body, soul, and spirit develop in equal measure. Of course, I cannot now elaborate here in just a few words on the art and science of education that underlie the Waldorf school; I will do so at other venues in the Netherlands, where I will indeed speak about the practical art of education and living from the standpoint of spiritual science. But if one naturally holds the view that true, all-encompassing educational art can be found in this way, and if this has been laid as the foundation for the Waldorf School, then one cannot help but intend to do as much as one can to establish such schools. Now, of course, we are not yet in a position to do very much, for what we have is barely enough for the Waldorf School for the time being, but it is not enough for any other schools. And what is lacking there—perhaps I may present that as a riddle this evening. You can easily imagine for yourselves what is lacking at first. However, there is something else that is not yet sufficient. When the Waldorf School was founded, it was necessary for me to first conduct a pedagogical seminar course for the Waldorf teachers. And so, once again, the pedagogical aspect must be developed from the spiritual sciences. All of this could take place in the broadest circles throughout the entire civilized world, for the question of education is first and foremost a question of contemporary civilization. If the view were to take hold throughout the civilized world that “we must do something specifically for the education of the child,”

[ 51 ] Ladies and gentlemen, I said, we live today in a world in which great social demands are being made, but in which people’s inner impulses, drives, and instincts are not exactly exceptionally social. In many respects, we must look to the coming generation. And this coming generation—we must educate them in a certain way that differs from how those who have led the world into its current catastrophes were educated. We need a new kind of education, and above all, we need to recognize that socially minded people must be raised, that what is universally human must be drawn out of human nature even in childhood.

[ 52 ] You see, if I may just mention one detail: In ordinary schools—and I suppose it’s no different in the Netherlands than anywhere else—we find the examination system to be quite peculiar. The Waldorf School has only been in existence for a year. At the Waldorf School, we have put this into practice: We don’t need exams; we’ve developed a different approach. Throughout the entire year, we held conferences that truly had a psychological focus. In a sense, every single child became a subject of study. We were able to study even the largest classes. Some remarkable things emerged from this. For example, it became clear what intangible forces are at work there. It became evident that a class with more girls than boys looks quite different due to these intangible forces than a class where the number of girls and boys is equal or where boys are in the majority. All these things must be carefully studied. The old educators say that one must draw out what is right from the child’s individuality. But it is only through the science of the spirit that one will be able to recognize the child’s individuality. This changes from year to year, from month to month. One must become a careful observer of human beings. And instead of having “almost satisfactory” “almost sufficient”—which means nothing if one cannot bring these things into harmony with the child’s true individuality—instead, we gave each child a genuine description of their nature, one that is actually useful, and a motto that came straight from the soul of each individual child—a motto that serves as a source of strength and a guiding principle for the child throughout the entire following school year. The child has a kind of mirror. And the children who receive these report cards take the greatest joy in them, even when they have been reprimanded.

[ 53 ] And we’ve been through quite a lot. Whenever I visit the school—not just as a formality, but because it’s part of real life—I ask the children questions, and sometimes I also ask them: “Children, do you love your teachers?” And you should see how the children then answer “Yes”—not as something they’ve been taught, but wholeheartedly from the depths of their souls. Even though they aren’t raised in some philistine way according to a particular philistine discipline, they are honest, so that they fully understand: One can only be educated in love. And so, for example, we’ve managed to ensure that the children—even though they were quite happy to go on vacation—still looked forward to returning to school with great anticipation. We have observed many interesting details. A boy who used to be an insufferable little rascal and who never wanted to give his mother a kiss gave his mother his first spontaneous, heartfelt kiss on the day he was able to return to school after vacation—that’s how happy he was. This sheds light on the whole of life’s intangible essence. That is the kind of living spirit we need. That is why it seems to me essential that the ideas of the Waldorf School be understood in the widest possible circles. If a World School Association could be established, consisting primarily of “consumers”—that is, people who have children, as well as those interested in the development of future generations, since this is something that concerns everyone—then such a World School Association, which could be entirely international, could establish such schools wherever possible. And that is, in fact, the idea behind the Waldorf school: to be a seed from which forces of growth radiate in all directions. The Waldorf school is meant to be a model—albeit one that we strive to make as perfect as possible; yet things only attain their true perfection when they are more widely disseminated.

[ 54 ] That is why I say: Certainly, the Waldorf School should not be an isolated entity; it did not arise from a single ideal, but from universal ideals. Therefore, through the World School Association, as many schools as possible should be established as quickly as possible, even if we have to struggle with some old-fashioned traditions.