The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Pneumatosophy II

[ 1 ] It may seem to some—especially within our own circles—that it is somewhat superfluous for me, in discussing these important topics during these lectures at our annual meeting, to also give some consideration to what contemporary science and scholarship have to say about the subjects in question, and what—as is the case here—has also been said about them in other eras of human development by those who, in turn, are recognized by our contemporary scholarship. Not that the intention here is in any way to build a detailed bridge connecting us to this scholarship. Such a bridge is perhaps entirely unnecessary within our circles—unnecessary, in fact, for the very reason that the vast majority of those who join our circles possess, from the depths of their souls and hearts, a certain longing for and connection to spiritual life, and do not actually come to us in order to have these spiritual worlds “proven” to them in a so-called scientific manner , but rather to come to know in a concrete form that which their heart and soul yearn for—so that to many among us, an appeal to modern scholarship might well seem highly superfluous. Another reason that might be put forward for such deference to scholarship may not apply entirely, though perhaps to some extent. It is the argument that one might say the theosophist finds himself in a position where he must bear witness to his worldview before people in the outer world, and that it is therefore necessary for him to have—so to speak, in the manner of thinking outside spiritual science—something that enables him to refute objections and offer affirmations in support of this spiritual-scientific worldview. However, we have also often discussed that it is only possible to a very limited extent to convince those who today oppose the spiritual-scientific worldview with any kind of evidence. Worldviews are fundamentally—insofar as people are opposed to this spiritual-scientific worldview—based not on evidence but on habits of thought. And anyone whose habits of thought simply cannot align with the spiritual scientific way of viewing the world will certainly not be persuaded by evidence at first. Thus, the reason just outlined cannot apply—at least not to any significant degree—to the presentation of such matters, which, incidentally, are raised only sparingly; rather, the presentation of matters such as those discussed yesterday is intended, within our circles, primarily to correct the confusion that might otherwise arise among members of our circles if they have to hear time and again: “Your worldview is not based on any justifiable foundation, particularly not on a scientific one.” —These matters are set forth not primarily to refute opponents, or to bear witness to the theosophical worldview before these opponents; rather, so that the theosophist may increasingly gain the sense that his worldview stands on firm ground that is secure even in the face of everything that established science has to say—so that the theosophist himself may not be led astray. It would take a long time to say in any detail everything that ought to be said today—that is, to engage in a discussion with officially recognized science. However, if, in the course of these lectures—which could indeed prove important for our overall worldview—this or that reference is occasionally made to external scientific methods, these references are intended to serve no other purpose than to evoke a sense that there are indeed ways and means of engaging with this science, and that one stands on solid ground when advocating spiritual science. Thus, the aim is to point toward the manner in which one might engage with the subject—if one had the time and opportunity to do so—rather than to suggest that such an engagement could be presented in even a remotely comprehensive sense.

[ 2 ] When we speak today of a science of external physicality, of external corporeality, then certain contradictions within such a science may be possible, and certain doubts may arise. But such a science has one advantage: that its object—external corporeality, external physicality—is not disputed. When, however, one speaks of the science of the soul, or—as we examined this field from a certain perspective last year—of psychosophy, then one does indeed enter into realms where there are even people who, so to speak, dispute the object itself—the soul. And in our present day, this brings us face to face not only with the materialistic world, but also with a certain kind of psychology that claims to be a “science of the soul without a soul,” as the term has been coined. Yesterday we cited examples from Aristotle and from a contemporary expert on Aristotle to illustrate a scientific approach that would never occur to deny the object of the soul—indeed, one that engages with the object we call the soul in a very astute manner. And with regard to Aristotle himself, one must truly say—based even on the few hints given yesterday—that there can be no question of him denying the spirit. But we have seen, in the example of Brentano’s psychology, how an astute mind of our time, precisely in the description of the individual faculties of the soul, stops short of what we must call the spirit. Therefore, when it comes to pneumatosophy—or the science of the spirit—one finds oneself on ground where, from a certain perspective, not only are this or that law of this science or the descriptions of the inner being denied, but where the object itself is also denied. After all—as can be inferred from what was said yesterday—the spirit is, for many people, a highly contentious fact in and of itself. Therefore, we must first seriously address the question: Why is it that the spirit as such can be such a highly contentious fact for people?

[ 3 ] The next answer to this is, of course, this: Human beings perceive the body—or the physical realm in general—through their external senses. And with all the force with which facts—which are involuntarily present for human beings—take effect, external physical facts act upon human beings with precisely that same force, and they are not in a position to deny what these facts reveal. Human beings find themselves in a somewhat similar situation with regard to the soul as well. For they do, after all, experience what flows within their soul: feelings, images, impulses of the will, and everything that arises as a matter of fate from the course of these soul experiences—their sufferings and joys, pleasures and pains, and so on. And anyone who does not wish to claim from the outset that everything he experiences in this way is nothing—or perhaps, at most, a kind of foam on the surface of physical facts—cannot help but acknowledge the soul in a certain sense—at least with regard to its reality. But the spirit is, after all—even if it exists—as one might say to oneself—something supernatural, something not immediately perceptible; and from this alone it follows that the denial of the spirit might seem relatively plausible.

[ 4 ] The point is that, strictly speaking, any search for the spirit might, in a sense, be a cause for astonishment if, in fact, this spirit belonged exclusively to the supersensible world and did not enter at all into the world in which we usually live. After all, in the field of spiritual science, we engage in research into the spiritual world, and we emphasize often enough that the facts we present about the spiritual world essentially stem from a way of perceiving the world that can only be brought about through a certain self-cultivation, through a certain self-education, through meditation, concentration, and so on—so that the facts of the spiritual world are not given to human beings from the outset, but can only be attained by ascending to a higher level of knowledge than that which they possess in everyday life. Thus, it might seem as though this spiritual world were entirely hidden from the outer world and could only come into consideration for a person once they have completely transcended their ordinary capacity for knowledge and ascended to a different capacity for knowledge. If this is the case, then one must indeed ask: How does a person come to long for a world—to yearn for a world that, strictly speaking, reveals itself to him in no way whatsoever as he goes about his everyday life?

[ 5 ] Strictly speaking, only the believer—and not the scientist—can initially feel equipped to counter this objection. The believer, however, will be able to counter this objection by pointing out that the spiritual world has revealed itself through its revelations, which have descended from it in the course of human development, so that human beings can derive their knowledge of the spiritual world from these revelations from the supersensible realm. But if a person is not inclined to acknowledge such revelations from the supersensible realm, to surrender to such a belief—well, then there is really, at first, hardly anything else to say beyond what has just been stated, so that the scientist may come to the conclusion, even if he is quite good-natured in his own way: There may well be a spiritual world; but for the time being we have no reason to take it into account, for it gives no indication of its existence in the external world.

[ 6 ] However, an objection to this has also been raised by idealist or spiritual-philosophical circles, and it has been raised time and time again over the course of history. Indeed, a large part of the recognition of the spiritual world by certain philosophers is based precisely on taking this objection to the first objection seriously. It consists in the assertion that: But human beings can, after all, go beyond the world that is initially accessible through external perception. Human beings can build a world of truth within themselves, and they could never be satisfied—simply because they are human—with what the world of external perception can offer them. —Thus, human beings build a world of truth within themselves. And when one then examines this world in earnest, one sees what in it already transcends all that is physical. One then points to the ideas about the world that human beings bring forth—the grand, comprehensive perspectives that can never enter a person merely through the external senses, and which must therefore be given to them from a source other than the senses. Thus, one easily sees in the very fact of the world of truth a circumstance that can provide the conviction that: Human beings participate in a spiritual world, for they live within that spiritual world through their truth. Naturally, a philosopher such as Hegel, for example, would recognize in this a sufficient basis—in response to the objection outlined above—for the legitimacy of a spiritual world, to which thought, insofar as it is free from sensibility, also belongs. Philosophers who, by their very nature, are initially capable of recognizing the complete autonomy of the world of truth vis-à-vis the rest of the world will find in this autonomy of the world of truth—in this self-movement of the spirit as it moves within truth—sufficient justification for the very assumption of a spirit. And then one could say: There will be enough people in the world for whom the existence of truth—the concrete existence of truth, of the true world of ideas—is proof of the mind. Indeed, one can say in a certain sense that something similar is found in Aristotle himself, that he, too, held the belief: Human beings live in their concepts, in their ideas, in what Aristotle calls the Nous (Nus), the intellect, in a spiritual world; and because this spiritual world exists within human beings, it therefore exists, and it is thus sufficiently justified. And one may then also draw conclusions about other beings and facts of the spiritual world based on what one can recognize within this spiritual world as such when moving within it. Thus, Aristotle draws his conclusions about the Deity, about the immortality of the soul, and arrives at such results as we were able to mention yesterday. Hegel, the modern philosopher, speaks of a self-movement of the spirit and by this means the “self-movement of concepts,” which, in its lawfulness, has nothing to do with what the external world is for human beings; he means by this what constitutes the self-activity of the “spirit”; and in the existence of this self-activity of the spirit, the spirit proves itself as such, reveals itself, and manifests itself. More recent attempts—such as Rudolf Eucken’s, which, to be sure, cannot be regarded as particularly ingenious from the perspective of spiritual science—speak, in turn, of the spirit’s self-comprehension and thus of the spiritual life’s self-proof. But upon closer examination, one cannot arrive at any proof of the spirit by this route. And it is extremely important that the theosophist know this, so that he himself may have a sense of just how difficult it fundamentally is to come to terms with everything taught by the external world—including philosophy—when it comes to proving the spirit as such. People still make this far too easy for themselves. The existence of truth as such, in fact, requires no proof for the spirit. For let us assume—and I wish to present here only briefly, and therefore almost by way of comparison, something that, if it were to be thoroughly elaborated, would have to be set forth in a very long series of lectures—let us assume that there were truly nothing else but the corporeal, the external physical world. This external world, with its forces—or, as it has now become fashionable to say, with its energies—manifests itself in what we call the mineral world; it becomes more complex—that is, it does not enrich itself with a new energy, but merely becomes more complex in the plant world and in the animal world. And let us imagine that it ultimately manifests itself in such a way that, through the pure combination and pure interaction of all the energies present in the physical world, it builds up the human being, constructing the human being in such a way that, through this formation of the human body from the energies of physical nature, the human being is able to let his world of thoughts spring forth within the complex instrument of his brain—a world of thoughts that now, just like physical processes, takes shape within the physical body. Let us suppose for a moment that we were to take seriously this statement—which seems extraordinarily crude to many—made by several materialists, namely that the brain secretes thoughts just as the liver secretes bile. Let us take it seriously for a while. Let us assume that this human brain were constructed from purely inorganic, physical energies in such a complex way that, through its activity, it would bring forth what appears to human beings as their spiritual life. So let us assume for a moment that the materialists are right, that there is no such thing as the spiritual as such. Would it still be possible, in the sense of these materialists, to speak of a world of truth—that is, of the world of truth as it appears, for example, in Hegel’s philosophy as the “self-movement of concepts”?

[ 7 ] You can see that raising this question is by no means insignificant. For the answer to this question already implies that materialism—if only an affirmative answer to this question could somehow be obtained—could explain even a philosophy such as Hegel’s using its own methods; but that means nothing other than that it could reject all philosophies that call themselves idealistic or spiritualistic! One need only—and this is precisely what can only be hinted at and could only be clearly expounded in a series of lectures—imagine that what emerges from the complex human brain as thoughts—insofar as this world of truth, this world of thought, consists precisely of thoughts—is nothing more than reflections of the external world, reflections of the external physical world. You can place an object in front of a mirror: the mirror reflects an image of that object back to you. The image resembles the object. It is not the object, but it is produced by purely material processes within the mirror. And you need only acknowledge that you are dealing with a mere image that has no reality; then you have no need to prove the reality of the mirror image. So you need only adopt the materialist standpoint and say: There is truly nothing but the external physical energies, which combine to form the human brain and produce a kind of mirror for the external world, and everything that is reflected as thoughts is merely images of the external world—then you have no need to prove the existence of the mind. For the only [supernatural] element—thoughts—are merely images of the external world. And just as one does not have to prove the reality of a reflection in a mirror, one does not have to prove the reality of thoughts either. There will then be little that can be done in response to people who say: “But there are also concepts that cannot be derived from external perception, for a circle never appears to us as we know it in geometry, nor does a triangle; indeed, mathematical truths do not.” - But here one can say again: We see them as images that arise in our brains. They do not exist out there, but many individual cases occur as approximations, and from these arises what appears as abstract concepts. - In short, we must set aside the objection that human beings generate transcendental truth within themselves—that it is transcendental is true, that cannot be denied—but the materialist can certainly come to terms with this. Truth as such, then, would not constitute an objection to materialism.

[ 8 ] Now we find ourselves on solid ground: This truth—whose existence, since the supernatural cannot be denied, appears to countless individuals as sufficient proof of the existence of a spiritual world, or at least as an indication of a spiritual world—is, in fact, not even proof of the spiritual world. For this truth is indeed supernatural; but it need not be real! It need only be a collection of images; in that case, no one need accept its reality. We must therefore maintain: Possession of truth is no proof of the reality of a spiritual world! And as human beings strive toward the truth and weave and live within it, they can never approach the spirit, for they must always object that the truth may be merely a reflection of the external physical world. Now one might say: But then one can hardly still believe that there is anything anywhere in the vast world that could lead human beings, as they are in everyday life, to acknowledge a spirit! - And when people like Feuerbach, the 19th-century philosopher, come along and say: “Well, what were the gods, or what was a god to humanity?” People simply experience within themselves the contents of their souls, their thoughts, and project them out into the world. They make that their god! — then it is easy to prove the unreality of the divine world, because it is merely the outward projection of the unreal world of thought. Aristotle is wrong, says Feuerbach, in deriving proof for the existence of a god from the existence of the human world of thought—the world of the intellect—and from its objectivity, by saying: “Man possesses this intellect in his soul; it is applicable to things.” This presupposes that the all-pervading “Nus” is present everywhere in things. But as he describes it, it is merely the human intellect projected outward. Yet if it is merely a reflection, then there is no basis on which to ground anything. |

[ 9 ] This is how clearly a connoisseur of spiritual science must view these matters. He must be able to say to himself with complete clarity: The paths usually taken to arrive at an understanding of the spiritual world from the outside prove to be quite fragile. - And upon closer inspection, they prove to be thoroughly fragile.

[ 10 ] So should we then admit outright that, before entering the world of the clairvoyant, there is absolutely no way to become convinced of the existence of the spirit? It might almost seem that way. It might seem as though only those people who either gaze into the spiritual world as clairvoyants or who believe the clairvoyants are justified in speaking of the spiritual world at all. It might seem that way; but that is not the case. And this brings us to the question: The external world as such, with its material content, initially—if one is not already aware of it—gives us no indication of a spiritual world. Nor does the inner world of truth point to a spiritual world, for it could be a reflection of the external, purely physical world. Do we then have anything at all besides what is sketched out here? Yes, we do have something, and that is error! For one must not forget anything in the world if one is to achieve a comprehensive understanding of it. Alongside truth, human beings also have error. Now, you might say, error—of course—cannot lead to truth, and it would be a most peculiar thing to start from error. But I never said that—because we have seen that it is fruitless to stand on the ground of truth—we now want to stand on the ground of error. For that would certainly not reduce the number of opponents if, in order to perceive the reality of the spiritual world, we were now to stand on the ground of error. But error is not to be cited here as something from which we proceed in order to recognize the truth; that would be not only folly but an absurdity. Yet one thing cannot be denied regarding error: it is there, it exists in the world, it is real. And above all: it can arise in human nature and come into being within it. Now, if the external world has created a mirroring mechanism in the brain and reflects itself, and the truth content is the sum of these mirror images, then, of course, error could still arise in a person instead of truth—by the person being likened, for example, to a faulty mirror or to a mirror that produces caricatures of what is outside. If we take a mirror that produces a caricature instead of a correct image, then it reflects incorrectly. Thus, error could be explained relatively easily by saying that it is possible because our organ, which is constructed from the external world, reflects incorrectly. One can explain truth as a reflection and can also explain error as a reflection. But there is one thing we cannot do: we cannot explain the correction—the transformation of error into truth—as a reflection. For no matter how hard you try to persuade a mirror that shows a caricature of an external object to transform this caricature into a correct image on its own, it remains as it is. It shows the false image and persists in its error.

[ 11 ] The decisive factor is that human beings are not bound to remain in error, but are capable of overcoming error and moving toward the truth—that is what matters. In this way, human beings demonstrate that, in the fact of truth, there is indeed a reflection of external reality; but the transformation of error into truth reveals that error, as such, is not a reflection of external reality. In other words, this means that error, when it exists, has no right to exist in the world that initially surrounds us. Truth has its right to exist in the world that immediately surrounds us, and to accept truth we need to assume nothing other than the existence of an external physical world. To accept an error, it is not enough that something be reflected from the external world; rather, there must be something that does not belong to the external world, something that has no direct connection to the external world. If the sensible is reflected in truth as a supersensible image, then when the sensible is reflected as an error, there must be a cause for the error other than that which lies within the sensible itself. What, then, are we looking at when we observe that the error is present? We are looking at a world that is by no means limited to the sensory world, the external world of physical facts! The error can only originate in a supersensible world; it can only come from a supersensible world.

[ 12 ] That is, for now, a conclusion. Now let us see what parapsychological research has to say—not to prove anything, but to shed light on the matter—regarding this peculiar position of error in the external world. Let us suppose that we were so contemptuous of ourselves as to—initially out of a purely internal impulse, out of sheer caprice—conceive an idea that we know with absolute certainty to be an error. Let us suppose, then, that we arbitrarily conceive an error. At first glance, this may not seem like a very desirable act: arbitrarily conceiving an error. But in a higher sense, it can be a very useful act. Namely, whoever actually carries this out—deliberately conceiving an error—will, if they do so with the necessary energy, with the necessary care, and through frequent repetition, realize that this error is already something quite real in the soul, in their own soul. They will realize that this error is already having an effect. Through the error that we deliberately think—and about which we are fully aware that it is an error—we prove nothing and gain no clarity about anything. But it has an effect within us. Indeed, this effect is quite significant for the very reason that we are not disturbed by any prospect of truth when we know we are thinking an error. We are truly at one with ourselves when we arbitrarily conceive an error. And one need only continue this process long enough to see that it is precisely through this that one arrives at what we have always described in spiritual science—in How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?, for example—as the summoning of forces hidden within the soul, forces that were not there before. The constant surrender to external truth does not lead very far in relation to what is now meant, but the arbitrary allowing of error to take hold within oneself can indeed lead to the emergence of certain hidden soul forces.

[ 13 ] What I have just said should not actually be taken as a rule. That is why you will find the following omitted in my book How Does One Gain Insight into the Higher Worlds?—and it has been omitted with good reason: that one should simply think as many false ideas as possible, again and again, in a rather energetic and arbitrary manner, in order to bring forth hidden soul forces. — But in a certain other sense, the matter is nevertheless somewhat similar to what is described there. It is explained that we must not, however, start from a crude and clumsy error, but that we must fulfill two conditions. We must, however, form a mental image that does not correspond to any external reality. Take the image that is repeatedly recommended: the image of the Rosicrucian Cross. If viewed one-sidedly from the standpoint of external reality, this is a mistaken image, an error. Red roses do not grow on a black, dead tree trunk. But it is a symbolic concept, an allegorical concept. Although it does not directly express any truth, it symbolizes a truth; thus, in relation to purely external, sensory truth, it is an erroneous concept—yet not entirely so, because it does symbolize something significant and spiritually valid. When we meditate on the Rose Cross, we surrender to a concept that is an error in relation to external, material truth—thus fulfilling the condition that we voluntarily accept an error into our soul. But we do not surrender ourselves to an ordinary error. For we do fulfill very specific conditions by surrendering ourselves not to ordinary error, but to the symbolic, meaningful concept. And this brings us to the second condition. This is that we must fulfill certain other prerequisites when we thus devote ourselves to meditation, concentration, and so on. If you delve deeply into the entire spirit of what is expounded in my book How to Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds or in the second part of Outline of Esoteric Science, you will see that a certain state of soul is necessary in order to devote oneself properly to meditation and so on. Certain moral qualities of the soul are specified there as being necessary if what is to take place is to occur in the proper manner. Why, then, is this specified as a condition? Why are certain moral qualities required so that a person may devote themselves to such a symbolic—and thus, in the external sense, false—representation?

[ 14 ] This is yet another of those things that must be taken into account. As a rule, it leads to nothing good if one merely devotes oneself to meditation, concentration, and so on, without seeking that whole state of mind that has, after all, been sufficiently described. Experience shows, in fact, that if a person lacks the foundation of such a state of mind as has just been described, the world that is then revealed to them through the awakening of hidden soul forces is truly a world that has a destructive, dissolving effect on human life rather than a healing, developmental one. What is presented as meditation, concentration, and so on will have a healing effect and further develop what is already present into a higher existence only if it grows out of the foundation of such a spiritual disposition as has just been described. Experience shows this. And it amply demonstrates the phenomena—which can rightly be called pathological—that befall those who seek to ascend to a higher world through meditation and the like, not on the foundation of such a state of mind, but out of mere curiosity, passion, or the like. Such people do, after all, take in a reality; for error is a reality. It also exerts an effect in the soul. It is a reality that is not contained in the external world as it is initially given to us through the senses. Such people do, in fact, take in a supersensible force, a supersensible entity, into their soul. Delusion, with its forces and its very being, is a reality that exerts a real effect, yet one that cannot have its foundation in the external sensory world. But it must not act in this way. This supersensible force must not be allowed to act unless one stands on a special foundation—the foundation of a sound state of soul. This can be based on no other reason than the fact that one says: We have indeed attributed a supersensible force to error; but this supersensible force, when it manifests itself as error, is certainly not a good force. It can only become a good force when it is rooted in the foundation of a sound state of mind.

[ 15 ] Translate this into the language often used in spiritual science to discuss these matters. There it is said: Human beings can come to know a supersensible world because they learn to recognize error. So they do not need to artificially ascend into the supersensible world, for it reaches into the human being by leading them into error. And that has an effect. But it is not a good world that the human being comes to know there. They must bring a good world from another side into a state of soul from which error can then take effect in the soul in the right way. If I wanted to express what is meant by this in a kind of paradox, I would have to say: People already become acquainted with the supersensible world within the sensible world, for they encounter error there. — So, without the supersensible world, they first become acquainted with the devil; they become acquainted with that which is not good, and which also presents itself as nothing good, reveals itself as nothing good. So there would indeed be good reason for someone to have once said: “The little folk never sense the devil, even if he had them by the collar.” For the devil is there, just as surely as error is there. Or, if we want to put it in our own words, we can say: Human beings come to know the Luciferic forces. They first come to know the supersensible world in the form of Luciferic forces. And they can only escape this by adopting an ostrich-like attitude, by burying their heads in the sand and refusing to acknowledge this world. They can do that, of course, but that does not make the matter go away. That is precisely the point—and something that would require a large number of lectures to explain fully if one wanted to provide more than just a rough outline—namely, that the existence of error in the outer world provides inner proof of the supersensible, but initially of the Luciferic supersensible, which is an adversary of human nature. If, upon entering the supersensible world, a person does not possess the necessary moral disposition of the soul due to the error arbitrarily introduced into his thinking, he falls prey to Lucifer.

[ 16 ] Is there a specific purpose in talking about these things in particular? Yesterday we cited Aristotle’s statement that, in addition to what a human being inherits from their parents and ancestors, God bestows upon them their supersensible nature—that is, God creates the supersensible aspect for every human being entering the sensory world in conjunction with their parents. And, if you recall what was said at the end of yesterday’s lecture, we were by no means able to reconcile ourselves with this Aristotelian assertion. We had to find all sorts of things within it that are themselves incompatible with this Aristotelian assertion. Now, our dear friend Dr. Unger has, of course quite rightly, demonstrated and clearly proven the validity of the contradiction in the world. But I would now have to engage in lengthy arguments again if I were to prove to you that a contradiction must be recognized as unjustified in a case where a person puts forward an assertion that then leads to consequences which refute his own assertion. That would be the case with Aristotle. For if God were to create the supersensible aspect of the human being, and if this were to enter the physical world, this would—as is evident from its own development—give rise to a state of dissatisfaction in all those human beings who live in the supersensible realm after death. It would have to be assumed that God created human beings to be dissatisfied. This cannot be correct, even in Aristotle’s sense. We cannot possibly concede to any philosopher that what enters into existence through the human line of inheritance is connected to what is given directly by a God from within the human being as its supersensible part. For, first of all, this is based on a proof derived from truth. Aristotle seeks only to provide a proof derived from truth. But as we have seen, this is not possible. For the existence of truth proves nothing regarding the supersensible world, so that from the outset, proof derived from truth is of no use for the supersensible world. The second point is this: If we assume that a human being’s supersensible part is created by a god when he enters the physical world, then it would be inexplicable that he could pass into an imperfect state after death. Thus, what was presented yesterday as an Aristotelian assumption is equally impossible. Aristotle simply failed to take into account that the nearest supersensible realm, which is given to human beings and which proves to be very powerful—indeed, can prove effective in relation to immediate human experience—is the supersensible Luciferic principle; and that we can only come to terms with this when, in the formation of the supersensible human being, we first allow the Luciferic principle access—that is, let the Luciferic principle participate, so to speak—insofar as we look up from the human being, as he exists in the physical world, toward the supersensible world. Thus, the human being cannot simply descend from a God. He must descend not only from a God, but from a God in connection with the Luciferic principle! And here we stand on ground that—as I ask you—you may well take to heart for the reason that, because of the fact just touched upon—which, precisely for the Western peoples, in the face of any assumption of a spiritual world, one might say, has unconsciously become part of their sensibility—these Western peoples, even to this day, in the light of their scholarship, have been unable to attain an open-mindedness toward what we call reincarnation, the repeated earthly lives.

[ 17 ] Just as I have explained to you today—that human beings should actually believe in the Devil far more than in any other supernatural being, that the Devil is actually quite close to them—people in earlier times did not grapple with this at all. But they felt the very same thing that I have now expressed to you in ideas. They felt that alongside the divine, the Luciferic is present. And they felt something else as well, the validity of which will, however, only become clear to us in the course of these lectures: they did indeed feel that what confronts us in the human being’s outer physicality is accompanied by something spiritual, by something divinely created. And they could not reconcile the recognition of the human being’s outer physical nature on the physical plane with the assumption that humanity descends from the divine-supernatural or, indeed, from any supernatural source at all. They could not come to terms with this. For Westerners, there was a completely different difficulty than, for example, for Buddhists, who, given their entire way of thinking and feeling, find it easy to accept the doctrine of reincarnation. For the Buddhist, one might say, it is innate that the outer physical body actually represents a kind of denial of the divine, that the outer physical body embodies a kind of fall from the divine, and that the striving to be freed from the outer physical body and to ascend to worlds for which the outer physical body has no significance is justified. But Aristotle takes a different stance—and so do, for example, the disciples of the Buddha. Aristotle stands before the world with his supersensory worldview, saying: We pass through the gate of death, taking our supersensory part with us through the gate of death, but must then look down upon what we were in the body, and our development in the supersensory world depends on this life in an earthly body. Nothing there is useless. The Deity has led us into a body because it was necessary for our overall development. Had it left us without a body, it could not have given us this development. - In other words: Aristotle places value on the experiences of external physical life. Here, the focus is not on concepts and abstractions, but on a content of sensation. The Buddhist adherent does not possess such a content of sensation as Aristotle understands it. I have often explained why he lacks it. He truly has a sense that human beings have passed through ignorance, which led them into contact with the sensory world; that once human beings have arrived at the sensory realm, they have arrived there through something from which they must free themselves. Thus, in Buddhism there is the feeling that a human being is truly human only when he or she has shed everything that belongs to the sensory realm. Aristotle, as a member of Western spiritual life, could not feel in a Buddhist way, just as no one rooted in Western spiritual life can truly feel in a Buddhist way. He can convince himself of it; he can acknowledge the Buddhist view; it may even appeal to him immensely—but this always occurs at the cost of denying the emotional content of the soul.

[ 18 ] But this is part of what it means to be a Westerner: to recognize the divine in the sensory world—the sensuous that has been imbued with spirit, the sensuous that has been imbued with the divine. And even if, under the influence of Buddhism, Westerners were to deny the spirituality of the sensual for only a short time, it lives on in their minds and will always be present. And in Aristotle, it was precisely this emphasis on the outwardly physical—not for its own sake, but as a necessary stage, as a necessary prerequisite for the overall evolution of humanity—that was alive. This emphasis on the external physical realm persisted among Westerners right up into the 19th century. And this is one of the reasons why outstanding minds of the West could not come to terms with reincarnation. The sense of the legitimacy of the Luciferic principle on the one hand, and the recognition of the divine even in external, sensory existence on the other, worked together, so to speak, and this gave rise to feelings of the kind I wish to share with you regarding a man who truly ranks among the most spiritual personalities of the West. I would like to illustrate this sentiment to you using the example of the eminent philosopher Frohschammer. You will find it described in his work on the philosophy of Thomas Aquinas. There he presents a very detailed examination of his own philosophy in relation to Thomism and, at one point, expresses his views—in his own way—on the possibility of what we call reincarnation. In this regard, Frohschammer must certainly be regarded as a representative of the Western worldview—that is, as a thinker through whom we can recognize how difficult it became in past centuries to acknowledge that which must constitute a fundamental tenet of our Pneumatosophy: the doctrine of reincarnation. Frohschammer says:

[ 19 ] “As something originating from God, the human soul can only be regarded as a product or work of divine imagination; for in this case, the human soul—like the world itself—must indeed come from divine power and activity (since nothing can come from mere nothingness), but this power and activity of God must act not only as a model for creation but also as a formative force in its realization and continued preservation; that is, as a formative power (not merely of a formal, but also of a real nature), and therefore as imagination—that is, as a power or potency that continues to act and sustain creation immanently within the world, and thus as “world imagination”—as has already been discussed earlier.”

[ 20 ] I would like to note here that Frohschammer also wrote a book titled Imagination as the Fundamental Principle of the World Process, in which he—just as Hegel did with the Idea and Schopenhauer with the Will—presents imagination itself as the creative principle of the world.

[ 21 ] “As for the doctrine of the preexistence of souls (souls that are regarded either as eternal or as created in time, but from the very beginning and all at once), which, as noted, has been revived in recent times and is considered suitable for resolving all manner of psychological problems— it is connected to the doctrine of the transmigration of souls and the imprisonment of souls in earthly bodies.”

[ 22 ] This was written in 1889, and I have already indicated in the Karlsruhe Cycle that there were, in fact, always advocates of the doctrine of repeated earthly lives even in the 19th century. Frohschammer knows this, of course, and that is why he goes on to say:

[ 23 ] “According to this, then, at the time of conception, there would be neither a direct divine creation of souls nor a creative production of new human natures—body and soul—by the parents, but only a new union of the soul with the body, that is, a kind of incarnation or immersion of the soul into the body—at least a partial one, so that it is partly encompassed and bound by the body, partly protruding beyond it and asserting a certain independence as spirit, yet unable to break free from it until death severs the connection and brings liberation and redemption to the soul (at least from this connection). In its relationship to the body, the human spirit would then resemble the poor souls in purgatory, as they are often depicted by amateur painters on votive tablets—as bodies half-submerged in the blazing flames, but with their upper parts (as souls) protruding and gesturing! Just consider, after all, what position and significance this view would assign to the sexual dichotomy, the nature of the human species, marriage, and the parental relationship to children! The sexual dichotomy would be nothing more than a device for imprisonment; marriage, an institution for carrying out this “beautiful” task; parents, in relation to their children’s souls, the henchmen tasked with restraining and imprisoning them; and the children themselves, owing this wretched, arduous captivity to their parents, while having nothing else in common with them! Everything connected to this relationship was based on wretched deception! And likewise, everything in humanity connected to the sexual dichotomy! What a role the sexual relationship plays! How deeply it shapes people’s thoughts and aspirations! What longing it stirs, what joy it radiates, what a source it is of physical and spiritual rapture! And how it serves as the subject of inexhaustible artistic, and especially poetic, creation! And now this contrast is supposed to be merely a mechanism for the embodiment and imprisonment of poor souls, who are thereby abandoned to earthly misery, succumbing to the toil, passions, temptations, and dangers of this earthly existence, and at best extending only a part of their being into an afterlife or, as one says, are “transcendental” (actually “transcendent”)! The significance of this sexual relationship, accordingly, does not lie in the fact that a constant renewal and rejuvenation takes place, in keeping with the springtime of existence, but rather in the opposite of that. And the longing that underlies it, and the delight that emanates from it, would not be rooted in the satisfaction of the highest creative urge, as one might think, but springs from a sad striving to imprison new souls in physical forms that obscure and alienate them from the greater part of their self.”

[ 24 ] As you can see, this is a person who speaks sincerely and honestly, drawing from the spiritual life of his time. And we certainly have good reason to familiarize ourselves with the difficulties faced by the worldviews of past centuries in the West, in order to recognize what must be the fundamental core of our own worldview. And precisely when we come to such important issues as those in these lectures, it will not be unnecessary to realize that all those who wish to approach—and we can say, honestly approach—spiritual science face great difficulties. And it is one of the tasks of theosophists not to be reckless, but to fully familiarize themselves with the difficulties faced by those who, having grown out of Western cultural life, wish to rise to the life of the spirit as it is presented to us in spiritual science in general, and in particular in what we might call pneumatosophy.