The Rudolf Steiner Archive

9. Platonic Philosophy from the Standpoint of Mysticism

[Ladies and gentlemen!]

[ 1 ] Eight days ago, I took the liberty of characterizing this great transition, which, from a mystical perspective, is expressed in the evolution of the mystery tradition—the mysteries—toward Platonic-Socratic mysticism, and I ask that you bear in mind from the outset, as I take the liberty of discussing Platonic philosophy—at the center of which stands the figure of Socrates as the bearer of a series of powerful ideas—that everything I take the liberty of developing as “Platonic mysticism” should be understood in such a way that I am deriving everything that appears to me as Platonic mysticism from within Platonism itself.

[ 2 ] To anyone who approaches Platonic philosophy from a scholarly perspective, it may seem from the outset to be either an impossible or a daring undertaking to examine the Platonic world of ideas from the so-called mystical standpoint. Much of what I find in Greek philosophy—and especially in Platonic philosophy—will inevitably appear ahistorical, particularly to the historian. The sources that led me to this, however, prompted me to view Platonism as a decidedly mystical doctrine—one that I cannot bypass, one that I cannot do without as a precursor to Neoplatonism and the teachings of early Christianity, toward which I now wish to proceed.

[ 3 ] For me, these views are undoubtedly part of the development of mysticism in the West, and I therefore ask you to regard them as necessary components of mysticism, but not as any kind of contribution to a purely scholarly understanding of Platonic philosophy.

[ 4 ] Last time, I took the liberty of showing how, based on the fundamental view [of the nature of the mysteries], [which] had not yet been separated into art and beauty, into wisdom and truth—from this, art arose on the one hand and what is called philosophy arose on the other—that a one-sided pursuit of truth, a one-sided pursuit of knowledge, arose in the higher and lower forms of logic; but this, as I said, is nothing other than having grown out of an [originally unified] striving for the spiritualization of the human being.

[ 5 ] I have endeavored to show that Aristotle’s work can only be understood if it is regarded as a faint echo, as a shadow, of this original conviction of Greek mysticism—just as in the mystery cults the fundamental conviction was that one cannot attain wisdom through the ordinary pursuit of truth, logic, but rather that one can attain this wisdom through a method that still contains, in an unadulterated form, both the pursuit of art and the pursuit of truth.

[ 6 ] We have reached the point in Greek development where, through Socrates, the pursuit of art becomes distinct from human spiritualization and finds expression, on the one hand, in Greek art and tragedy, and on the other, in the one-sided pursuit of truth, as it appears to us individually in Socrates and Plato.

[ 7 ] In the course of my previous lectures, I have attempted to show that the mystery cults could be understood as nothing other than a conception of the core of truth in the highest sense of myth, and how such a deepening of Greek mythological concepts is possible, so that we must conclude that the interpretation of Greek mythology through the mystery cult appears to us as the extraction of the originally existing core of truth within Greek philosophy.

[ 8 ] It is only natural that during that period, when knowledge based on logic diverged from the original mysticism itself, a need arose to clarify the relationship between myth and what is commonly called “truth.” We have seen, after all, that it was an entirely different quest for truth, one that expresses itself quite differently—through a kind of fiery tongue that immediately leaps into a symbolic mode of representation. We have seen that it diverged entirely from what we call scientific work. We have seen that the prosaic need for truth has leaped into the mythological-allegorical mode of representation, so that we had, on the one hand, the outer form and, on the other, the core of the myth.

[ 9 ] Since Socrates and his students strove to pursue the truth solely through purely intellectual, rational means, the question inevitably arose: How does what has taken shape in the myths relate to our abstract pursuit of truth? Socrates, for whom nothing mattered at first but the understanding of human nature, was dismissive of the interpretation of myths. He rejected it and considered himself an uninitiated outsider. We shall see that this has a deeper significance in the Platonic account.

[ 10 ] He had, however, to take a position on the question of myth. To the casual observer, he adopted a highly peculiar stance. This is evident from two works when we speak of Platonic philosophy. These two works are the “Phaedrus” and the “Phaedo.” Both deal with realms that contrast the contemplation of the finite with that of the infinite, or that rise from the contemplation of the temporal to that of the eternal.

[ 11 ] If, then, we bear this in mind—the consideration of the finite in relation to the infinite—we encounter in Plato, on the one hand, the curious fact that he takes a decidedly hostile stance toward any rationalist interpretation of myth. This is particularly evident in the Phaedrus, the dialogue on love.

[ 12 ] The other curious thing is that Plato [admittedly] rejects a rational interpretation of myth, [yet at the same time] when he moves from finite truths to infinite truths, he himself becomes a myth-maker. Where Plato wishes to speak of what we cannot see with our eyes or hear with our ears, he expresses himself symbolically and allegorically. Thus, when he discusses the Phaedrus, he expresses himself in thoroughly mythological terms, whereas, on the other hand, the meaning of myth, as understood by the Sophists, is understood to mean that myth must be explained purely on the basis of reason and the rules of the intellect—for example, the abduction of the king’s daughter by the wind is interpreted as a simple natural phenomenon. This is simply rejected [in the “Phaedrus” by Socrates].

[ 13 ] But the very moment his contemplation rises above the ordinary things of life, Plato himself becomes a mythmaker. The deeper reason for this is none other than that Plato has the firm conviction that everything that goes beyond sensory perception—and beyond intellectual perception—cannot possibly be expressed to human beings in any other way than through myth. It is impossible for him to convey this tradition in any other way than by employing the ordinary, prosaic word—as we see and hear it with the senses—in a mythological manner, connecting it with the intellect, logically separating it, and so on. Here we have no language and are compelled to resort to myth ourselves.

[ 14 ] Now let us see what Plato himself says about the doctrine of the soul. Plato’s Phaedrus deals with the subject that we have regarded as the focal point of all Greek thought. It deals with the path from lower levels of consciousness to higher levels of consciousness. What Plato engages in is nothing other than a perspective that is more heavily weighted toward logic, one more closely aligned with reason, as opposed to that practiced by the mysteries.

[ 15 ] This approach undoubtedly has the great advantage for humans in that it is initially more accessible to those who think logically—those who prefer to appeal to reason. However, it also has the disadvantage that very few are able to rise, along with Plato, from sensory and intellectual contemplation to the higher contemplation of a true myth. By a true myth, I do not mean one that is supposed to include a miracle, but one that is sustained by that higher concept of truth which we have come to know as the bearer of mythology, as the bearer of the myth.

[ 16 ] I believe we must follow the path—roughly, if not exactly—as outlined in Plato’s account, the path a student of Plato would have taken under the guidance of a figure like Socrates. There, in the Phaedrus, we are led precisely to that principle within the human being, to that force that propels him upward from the lower states of the soul to the higher ones. And this driving force, which leads him from the lower to the higher states—for Plato, this is love; this is Eros; this is that which, with elemental power, lifts a person from an everyday life to a higher spiritual life.

[ 17 ] And if we now consider this process in light of the Phaedrus, we find three states of the moral life described. These are:

[ 18 ] First, the state in which a person is completely dominated by the lowest forms of love, in which he strives entirely to satisfy the demands of his sensual desires, in which he is entirely driven by his sensual desires. He is dominated by the pursuit of pleasure, and this is entirely immersed in the everyday. He lives entirely within the life given to him through his senses. He lives entirely within the feelings that can be aroused only by his senses. This, then, dissolves into the manifold and [the finite], into that which surrounds him and to which he also belongs. The power within man, which he possesses as an individual member of this diversity, is sensuality, which arouses his feelings of pleasure and whose satisfaction he strives for.

[ 19 ] The next higher level to which a person can rise is one in which they do not stand exclusively on the ground of the sensory world. This is the state of prudence. There, they rise above the sensory world to make use of their true spiritual power. He now regulates his needs [no longer merely according to desire, but according to the principle] of utility, according to what appears useful to him. That which appears useful to him for his temporal and, in his view, eternal existence becomes the content of his worldview, and he fulfills this on his next, higher level.

[ 20 ] This power within a person, which will guide and direct him to satisfy his needs, is the human reason, which classifies all things in life as useful or harmful. A person who allows himself to be guided by reason in his ethical life will reject from his life’s path many things that, while they might give him pleasure, do not appear to be useful. Therefore, a person is not always uplifted, but is often pulled down as well. Prudence makes this clear. The prudent person will refrain from many things that bring pleasure, and will not deny to himself that what is useful is often merely a hidden means of satisfying his desires. It may, therefore, be a higher stage. We must assume, however, that human beings are by no means permitted to completely cast off pleasure and sensuality at this stage. That would imply a weakness in human nature, because if a person were forced to completely suppress their senses, they would find that they could not elevate this sensory world through prudence.

[ 21 ] [Third:] Prudence is nothing other than the spiritualization of sensory life—the stage at which love takes the form of enthusiasm. Enthusiasm is not something that relates to the finite, but rather something that elevates human beings from the finite to the infinite. Therefore, no one is capable of enthusiasm who, in addition to avoiding the sensual, is not also able to grasp the eternal, the imperishable, and the enduring. And here, where he first discovers his soul, where he first grows beyond himself and where he must feel himself to be a member of the manifold, and here, where he feels within himself that in the moment of existence something higher presents itself—it is here that he rises above the finite.

[ 22 ] Here Plato adopts a form of expression that we must describe as mystical, symbolic, and allegorical. Here, then, he believes that he is dealing with something that cannot be expressed through rational concepts. Here he does not write as one who composes from the intellect, but as one who has immersed himself in the sea of the infinite. He does not write as one who can only reproduce the logical form, but as one who possesses a new, higher form of expression that represents nothing other than a higher truth in contrast to logical truth.

[ 23 ] If one does not view it this way, the myth of the soul appears to be nothing more than any other. But when one rises above this, one finds that Plato—unlike his predecessors—was what is called an “initiate”; that is, he was a person capable of expressing in imagery the deeper truths that had been revealed to him. The one who is able to unveil the secret of this image, of this mystery, is also the one who can know what Plato intends. This will vary from person to person. One person may only be able to sense what is hidden in the image, and the secret may only gradually become clear to them. In any case, however, it is a form of symbolism designed to express deeper truths, because it is not a matter of presenting them crudely and superficially to the intellect.

[ 24 ] Such a brutally presented truth is not recognized in all its depth, nor can it be recognized in all its depth. This is the very same thing that compelled Goethe to speak as he did in his “Fairy Tale” of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily or in the second part of his “Faust.” This is a need that is connected to human nature and that reverent awe of the deeper truth:

[ 25 ] Anyone who has even a inkling of the infinite significance of such truths will find that it is necessary to live through the essence of these truths; they will find that it is impossible to express this essence logically. That is why Plato always becomes mystical and allegorical in his most profound passages.

[ 26 ] Plato describes the virgin soul in such a mystical way that he weaves it into a myth. This myth is intended to illustrate his conception of the soul. This Platonic myth is something you will find in theosophical literature from all over the world, including that of Buddhism. And even if this myth does not correspond to what you know as “esoteric Buddhism,” there will still be an opportunity to demonstrate a deeper correspondence between Platonic philosophy and esoteric Buddhism.

[ 27 ] A calculation isn't always wrong just because it yields a different result. One must consider whether the calculations might have been based on entirely different assumptions from the outset. We calculate using decimal numbers. However, there may also be systems where numbers are counted only up to five. In such a case, a new order would already be in place, so that all types of calculations would appear different to us. Some things will look different, and this is how I would like to characterize the teaching of the Mysteries in relation to esoteric Buddhism.

[ 28 ] For Plato, then, one ascends or descends into the world of the infinite in three stages. And this world of the infinite, which no longer conveys the same properties as our senses—with which our intellect calculates, separates, and connects—is comprehensible. Where human beings ascend, where they grasp the spirit in its senseless form, we use the word “intuition.” We therefore use the word “intuition” when a person does not use the spirit to process the sensory, but perceives the spiritual just as the senses perceive the sensory. Just as the senses perceive the sensory, so does the spirit perceive the spiritual. And thus it is a reflection of the eternal.

[ 29 ] Here, then, Plato rises from the perception of the temporal to the perception of the eternal. Here, Plato has reached the point where all things, all the forms through which human beings perceive the ordinary sensory world, no longer hold any validity, so that one can no longer speak of space and time. Above all, at this very moment—when human beings rise from prudence to enthusiasm—a view of a new world opens up within their souls.

[ 30 ] It must be noted that Plato knew, not merely believed. We know that Plato understood the difference between belief and knowledge. Belief disappears. Therefore, for Plato, it is simply a foregone conclusion that the things that present themselves to a person on the third level are of an eternal nature. Just as it is clear to him that something is standing before his eyes, so it is clear to him that the things that present themselves to a person on the third level are of an eternal nature. But just as one who can see colors is unable to truly give a color-blind person an insight into the diversity of colors—he can [only] offer him a substitute for it—and just as he is unable to show him the colors, so too is the spiritually sighted person unable to teach this to the spiritually blind. Anyone who is unable to develop his external sensory world upward into the world of the intellect and on to the spiritual world, where things are transformed from the temporal into the eternal, is unable to follow Plato to this point. This is where what the physical mode of perception has enclosed in its usual way comes to an end.

[ 31 ] Whoever is confined between birth and death gains here a glimpse into that which is not confined between birth and death. We must be clear that what Plato associates with such concepts is merely exoteric rhetoric. Conceiving of the soul as a sensory entity—even if only in the most tenuous resemblance to something physical—is not yet an esoteric perspective.

[ 32 ] We must realize that, from a strictly Platonic perspective, it is impossible to speak of an actual proof of the soul’s eternity. That is simply nonsensical. One proves things that are accessible through logic. Let us say, for example, that one proves some mathematical theorem. When one proves it, one has in mind a complex manifold that one breaks down into parts and then reassembles to demonstrate what one intends to prove. The entire foundation upon which a proof is based must be provided by intuition. Any other proof cannot prove anything either. Therefore, for Plato, the issue is not about proving the immortality of the soul.

[ 33 ] Such proof could not have taken hold for Plato at all. For him, the point is to elevate human beings so that they may perceive the spiritual realm free from the senses. And that is nothing other than the Platonic world of ideas. Whoever perceives it free from sensory qualities, whoever sees things as they appear to the mind, has an idea of the Platonic world of ideas. This can therefore also be called “the soul’s participation in the world of ideas.” At that moment, the soul immerses itself in the world of Ideas. It penetrates it, so that it becomes incorporated into an eternal stream and ceases to belong to mere temporal life. It surveys the temporal from a higher vantage point. Thus, for Plato, rising above the sensory world to the true world of the spirit is the very essence of the soul’s knowledge.

[ 34 ] For Plato, the ascent to the true world of the spirit—or the knowledge of the soul—is not a logical process, but a genuine process of the soul. Man becomes a different person; he ascends and conquers his own soul. The moment he has done this—the moment he can turn away from the sensory qualities of the world—he has attained that which is beyond the reach of space and time, where one can no longer speak of coming into being and passing away. He has attained that which is exalted above birth and death; he has become a participant in eternity, so that what Plato understands as “becoming a participant in eternity” is something that must be conquered.

[ 35 ] According to the Platonic view, one cannot say: We carry an eternal soul within us, and we need only recognize ourselves, and we will recognize the eternal soul. That would not be the Christian theory as correctly understood. But that is the trivial Christian theory. The soul is present within human beings. One can go looking for it as if it were something hidden behind a door. It is there. The knowledge is there, without our having to go through the [stages of] knowledge.

[ 36 ] This view is not the same as the Platonic one. Anyone who does not wish to go through the process of development, but instead wants to recognize something they already carry within themselves, remains stuck in the sensory and the intellectual. They remain in the sensory realm and do not attain that which is new. This is the cancerous flaw in our modern theory of knowledge.

[ 37 ] This calamity has been wrought by Kantian philosophy, which proceeds from the view that all truth is complete, that all truth already exists and that man need only discover it, that he need only draw back the veil, and that he is, in fact, the fifth wheel in the machinery of the world. Man is necessarily a part of it. And when Plato speaks of the Deity, the Deity is just as dependent on humankind as humankind is on the Deity—and this is because the Deity could not achieve perfection without humankind’s active participation. It would remain at a lower level if humankind did not help it attain its goal. What humankind develops in the spirit is part of the world process.

[ 38 ] This is also the point where Platonic development can align with our scientific theory of development. If we simply conceive of it as a series of perceptions—one that is, however, infinite and never complete—if we regard the sensory stages as a chain and view human beings as the pinnacle of nature, who in turn continue this same development from within themselves, so that they represent a link in the chain of development, then what we have before us in the modern view is the same as what we have before us in the Platonic view.

[ 39 ] The person who does not merely analyze and interpret sensuality—whose process of cognition is a genuine one—does not merely recognize within the process of cognition, but acts; he reshapes the soul, transforming it from a temporal soul into a divine one. It is the transition that must be found. And the driving force that conjures forth the divine, that elevates man from sensual pleasure to enthusiasm—where his spiritual impulse finds the transition—that is Eros; that is where he attains the higher vantage point and gains a broader perspective.

[ 40 ] He does not derive these impulses from temporality; they are borrowed from the eternal world of ideas. We call this timeless and spaceless world the “world of ideas” because everything related to space and time has been set aside, because we know that what is at stake here is the spirit. At this stage, one ceases to speak of the soul confined within finitude; instead, one can speak only of the Eternal. Everything that a human being gains in temporality is nothing other than a glimmer of the eternal world shining into the temporal one, and the temporal world is nothing other than a reflection of the eternal in temporality.

[ 41 ] When we translate this back, such a reflection appears in our life of imagination. If it comes to pass that we see things in the light of eternity, this is not a newly formed idea that we can say did not exist before. It has always been there; it simply had not been present in human consciousness. It is just like an idea that took root in our consciousness yesterday—one we hadn’t thought about—but which re-enters our consciousness today. Such an entry into consciousness is also the entry of eternal ideas into consciousness. It is the ability to remember.

[ 42 ] Thus Plato can conceive of all higher knowledge as a recollection, by “translating back” the [temporal into the eternal]. And so he can say: Everything we imagine in our life of the imagination is the recollection of an earlier, purely spiritual life. And that which shines into it in this way cannot perish. It is the enduring; it is that which lies beyond death and beyond birth.

[ 43 ] So this is the transition from [the temporal to the eternal]. Now consider how Plato speaks of the soul when he says: The soul remembers its earlier states before birth. The way he expresses himself is, once again, a language of infinity translated back into temporality. However, this prompts Plato—so as not to evoke a sensory image—to express the idea in a mystical way.

[ 44 ] And now, in Plato, the process that has taken place in all myth-making is unfolding—a process that will always prevent us from interpreting myths in a realistic way. The process is unfolding that must take shape in every human being when they must bid farewell to logic. Here lie the limits of logic.

[ 45 ] Kant knows only of intellectual knowledge. When a person finds the path from intellectual knowledge to empirical knowledge, then he knows that this higher form of knowledge exists. If a person is capable of perceiving, as Johann Gottlieb Fichte did—[that is to say], in such a way that he perceives the visible through the spiritual, because the spiritual thus becomes so ethereal—then he feels compelled to resort to myth.

[ 46 ] The myth that Plato chose to describe the virgin soul presents the soul as a chariot drawn by two horses, one racing wildly ahead, the other gazing toward the heavens. They are guided by a charioteer on their journey through the world. First they enter the region of heaven, and then the region of the supercelestial.

[ 47 ] According to this Platonic myth, the soul—guided by its leader—passes through these regions of the world and, after ten thousand years in each, reaches the Supercelestial Realm. It is during the transition from the sphere of the earthly to the sphere of the divine that the soul must overcome its greatest obstacles. This is where the greatest danger threatens it. The horse, inclined toward sensuality, threatens to shy away. If the senses are unable to gain insight into the supercelestial realm, [the soul] may be hurled back. But if it returns, then it can undergo the union with heaven. Within ten thousand years, it undergoes ten incarnations, one in each millennium. Once every millennium, the soul is free to choose its body and is thereby able to shorten its path. The ten thousand years can be shortened to three thousand years.

[ 48 ] By imbuing itself with philosophy, theosophy, and mysticism, the soul is able to shorten the path. In this way, it is able to limit life to a smaller number of physical incarnations. Physical life is, on the one hand—I dare not say a union of the spiritual with the material—but rather a union of the soul with the sensual. This is a sensual reflection of the spiritual. And this union necessarily takes place in accordance with the eternal laws of the universe. Human beings are necessarily compelled, after a series of years, to undergo that great transformation in which they must pass through the purely spiritual realm of the world of Ideas. At the same time, on this path—which they traverse both below and above—they are free to give themselves their own embodiment. They are beings who hover between freedom and necessity, who live their lives between freedom and necessity. Thus, Plato can conceive of life in the temporal realm as a recollection of the life he experienced in the timeless realm. Human beings must become partakers of this retrospection toward the world of ideas if they wish to ascend to the higher levels of knowledge.

[ 49 ] This is Plato’s poetic account of the transition from the finite to the eternal. He speaks of it as if he were describing a journey; he speaks of it as if it were an imagined sensory world. But this is nothing other than the art of evoking the idea through myth. This is connected to the fact that, whatever one may say about these things, one sees even deeper foundations emerging before the soul, and that therefore, with every rational limitation, with every conceptual expression, one would only constrain these things, only limit them.

[ 50 ] If, on the other hand, one expresses them symbolically—and the symbol is conceived in a higher sense and is not too literal or unambiguous—then everyone, by delving into the symbol, may be able to draw from it something higher and more meaningful than the one who speaks in symbols. The one who speaks in symbols does not claim to have already thought of everything that the listeners might read into them.

[ 51 ] But what, then, about the question: Did he really mean what he says? Well, he specifically wants people to be able to read more into his symbol than he himself might have been able to perceive in it. That is the exoteric and the esoteric interpretation of the symbol. The esotericist is aware that every human being, no matter how high a level of knowledge they may attain, still possesses only an individual understanding, and that it is possible, through the human spirit, to find the gateway to what individual human consciousness cannot fully grasp. They are aware that a person can express truths through poetry without knowing the full extent of what lies within those truths. And it may be that someone else, coming later, will be the first to unravel what is contained within them.

[ 52 ] This distinction must certainly be noted, so that we must not ask: Did the one who created a myth of inner life incorporate these things into the myth? No, it is a human need to express oneself mythically when one encounters things that transcend the human realm. When we encounter such a mystical concept, an allegory, or a symbol, it is a sign that a different interpretation is now at play, and proof that we must now apply not a “finite” but an “infinite interpretation.”

[ 53 ] It is exactly the same as with someone who is faced with the ordinary perceptions of human life. Such a person can describe the mountains to us only in finite terms. He cannot tell us everything that the mountains have shown us. He cannot convey the same impression. But the one who does as Plato did does not seek to give us a description; he will not say: “Use this description, for it will lead you on the right path.” The Platonic writings will only be used in a higher way by a higher understanding when they serve, as it were, as a “spiritual Baedeker.” They are not to be interpreted; they are to be travelogues in the realm of the spiritual, leading us to the things themselves. But then the very language of myth—which allows certain things to vanish into a kind of indeterminacy—will be appropriate, because it does not give the impression that the thing itself is to be confined within strict contours. No, what has been handed down to us should be merely a hint of what the person in question saw. It should be a guide, not a story; a manual on how to conduct historical study.

FAQ:

[ 54 ] The number 10,000 as an indication of the time of reincarnation.

[ 55 ] Everything contained in “Esoteric Buddhism” tends to lead one to interpret everything in an exoteric way.

[ 56 ] The symbol is not a truth, but a path that can lead us to the truth.

[ 57 ] Allegories. Not all allegories are original. Many are borrowed. Otherwise, every allegory corresponds to a spiritual concept. One draws them from one’s inner life.