The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Theosophical Morality III

[ 1 ] What was said yesterday acknowledged the moral impulses inherent in human nature, so that we sought to substantiate the claim—to prove, based on the facts cited earlier—that the very foundation of morality, the foundation of goodness, lies in the nature of the human soul, and that, in fact, it is only in the course of evolution, in the human journey from incarnation to incarnation, that humanity has strayed from its original, one might say instinctively good, dispositions, and that it is through this that evil, wrongdoing, and immorality have first entered into humanity.

[ 2 ] But if that is the case, then we must be all the more surprised that evil is possible at all, that it can arise, and the question demands an answer: How did evil become possible in the course of evolution?

[ 3 ] A thorough answer can really only be found by looking to the basic moral teachings that were already given to people in ancient times. The students of the Mysteries, who strove toward their highest ideal of gradually penetrating to the full spiritual truths and insights, had to work from a moral foundation wherever the work was rightly carried out in the spirit of the Mysteries, so that the peculiarity of the moral nature of human beings was revealed to the students of the Mysteries in a very special way.

[ 4 ] If we wish to briefly describe how this came about, we can say: The student of the mysteries was shown that human nature can cause devastation and evil in two ways, and that it is only through this—that human beings are capable of causing evil in two ways—that they are able to develop free will; furthermore, that life can proceed in a proper, favorable sense only if one regards these two sides of deviation as two scales, one of which rises and the other falls in turn. The proper balance exists only when the beam of the scales lies horizontal.

[ 5 ] Thus, the students of the mysteries were shown that the correct way for a human being to behave cannot be demonstrated by simply saying: This is right, and that is wrong. Proper conduct can only be attained when a person, at every moment of their life, finds themselves in a position where they are drawn toward both one side and the other, and must themselves establish the balance, the middle ground, between these two.

[ 6 ] Let us consider the virtues we have been discussing: courage and fortitude. One extreme toward which human nature can swing is that of recklessness—that is, the unbridled, headlong charging into the world with the forces at one’s disposal, straining them to the utmost. That is one side, the side of recklessness. The other side, the other side of the scale, is that of cowardice. Human beings can, so to speak, swing to either side, and it was shown to the students in the Mysteries that a person loses themselves, that they shed their true self and are ground down by the wheels of life, if they degenerate into recklessness. Life tears him apart if he swings toward the side of recklessness. If, on the other hand, he strays toward the side of cowardice, then he hardens and tears himself away from the context of things and beings. Then he becomes a self-contained being who falls out of the context, since he cannot bring his deeds and actions into harmony with the whole. This was shown to the students of the Mysteries in relation to everything a human being can do. He can degenerate to the point of being torn apart and betrayed by the objective world, because in doing so he loses his self, and he can degenerate in the opposite direction—not merely in bravery, but in every deed—to the point of hardening within himself. Therefore, the meaningful word was written everywhere above the moral code of the Mysteries: You must find the middle way, so that through your deeds you do not lose yourself to the world, and so that the world does not lose you either.

[ 7 ] These are the two possible situations into which a person can fall: Either they can be lost to the world—the world seizes them and wears them down, as in the case of recklessness—or the world can be lost to them because they harden themselves in their selfishness, as is the case with cowardice. This is what was said to the students in the Mysteries: There can be no good whatsoever that merely needs to be strived for as a singular, static good; rather, good arises only through the fact that a person can continually swing back and forth like a pendulum and, through their inner strength, find the possibility of balance, of the golden mean.

[ 8 ] You see, there you have everything that enables you to understand the freedom of the will and the significance of reason and wisdom in human action. If it were appropriate for human beings to adhere to eternal moral principles, then they would need only to adopt these moral principles and could, as it were, go through life following a set course. But life is never like that. Rather, the freedom of life consists in the fact that human beings always have the possibility of straying in two directions. This also gives rise to the possibility of the bad, the possibility of evil. For what is evil? Evil is that which arises when human beings either lose themselves to the world or when the world loses human beings. In the avoidance of both lies what we can call the good. Thus, in the course of evolution, as human beings passed from incarnation to incarnation, evil became possible because people strayed sometimes to one side, sometimes to the other, and because they did not always find balance, they were compelled to create karmic equilibrium in a future time. What cannot be achieved in a single lifetime—because one does not always strike the middle ground—is achieved in the course of evolution, as humanity strays toward one side at one time, but is then compelled, perhaps in the next life, to swing toward the other side again, thereby creating balance.

[ 9 ] What I have told you was a golden rule of the ancient mysteries. As is so often the case, we find in this instance as well an echo of this mystery principle among the philosophers of antiquity, and we find in Aristotle, where he speaks of virtue, a statement that we cannot understand otherwise than by knowing that what has just been said was an ancient mystery principle that Aristotle received as a tradition and incorporated into his philosophy.

[ 10 ] Hence Aristotle’s curious definition of virtue, which states: Virtue is a human faculty guided by rational insights that, in relation to human beings, maintains the middle ground between excess and deficiency.

[ 11 ] Aristotle thus provided a definition of virtue that no subsequent philosophy has ever matched. Because Aristotle drew on the tradition of the Mysteries, he was truly able to hit the mark. This, then, is the famous middle ground that must be maintained if humanity is to be truly virtuous, if moral strength is to pulse through the world.

[ 12 ] But now we can also answer the question of why morality should exist at all. What happens, then, when there is no morality, when evil occurs, when there is too much or too little, when a person loses themselves to the world through being crushed, or when the world causes a person to lose themselves? In each of these cases, something is always destroyed. Every evil, every immoral act is a destruction, a process of destruction, and the moment a person realizes that they have no choice but to destroy something, to take something from the world, when they do evil, the force of the good exerts an overwhelming influence upon them. But this is precisely the task of the theosophical worldview, which is only now beginning to make its way into the world: to make it clear that all evil brings about a process of destruction, taking something away from the world that is counted upon.

[ 13 ] If we now adhere to this principle—which we have just established—in accordance with our theosophical worldview, what we know about human nature leads us to a specific understanding of both good and evil. We know that the feeling soul developed primarily during the ancient Chaldean epoch of evolution, in the third post-Atlantean period. Modern life has little conception of what that epoch of evolution was like. In external history, we rarely go back further than the Egyptian era. We know that the intellectual or emotional soul developed during the fourth epoch, the Greco-Roman period, and that we are now in the process of developing the conscious soul. The Spirit-Self will not come to the fore until the sixth epoch of post-Atlantean development.

[ 14 ] Let us first ask ourselves: How can the sensory soul stray from the right path in one direction or another? The sensory soul is what enables human beings to perceive the world of things, to take it in, to take an interest in things—not to go through the world remaining ignorant of things, but rather to form a relationship with them. The sensory soul brings all this about. We will find one direction in which a person can stray with regard to the soul of sensation if we ask ourselves: What is it, after all, that makes it possible for a person to have a relationship with the things around them? What gives a person a relationship with the things around them is what we can call an interest in things. This word “interest” expresses something of immense significance in a moral sense. It is far more important to grasp the moral significance of interest than to devote oneself to a thousand and one beautiful, though perhaps merely hypocritical, petty moral principles. Our moral impulses are in fact guided by nothing better than when we take a genuine interest in things and beings. Just make that clear to yourself. We spoke in yesterday’s lecture about love as an impulse in a deeper sense, so that we cannot be misunderstood when we now say the following: Even the ordinary, frequent declamation of love, love, and love cannot replace the moral impulse that lies in what can be described by the word “interest.”

[ 15 ] Let us suppose we have a child before us. What is the prerequisite for us to devote ourselves to the child? What is the prerequisite for us to help the child progress? The prerequisite is that we take an interest in the child’s being. It is a sign of an unhealthy human soul when a person withdraws from something in which they should take an interest. The further one advances toward the true moral foundations—rather than merely delivering moral sermons—the more one will recognize that the impulse of interest is a particularly golden impulse in the moral sense. The fact that we expand our interest, that we find the ability to empathize with things and beings, calls upon our inner strength, even in our dealings with other people.

[ 16 ] Even compassion is aroused in the proper way when we take an interest in a being. And if, as Theosophists, we set ourselves the task of expanding our interest more and more, of broadening our horizons ever wider, then universal human brotherhood will also be elevated as a result. We cannot make progress by preaching universal love for humanity, but rather by driving our interests ever further and further, so that we increasingly bring ourselves to take an interest in and show understanding toward souls with the most diverse temperaments, the most diverse character traits, racial characteristics, national characteristics, and the most diverse religious and philosophical beliefs. True understanding and genuine interest give rise to the right moral action from within the soul.

[ 17 ] Here, too, it is the case that one must maintain a balance between two extremes. One extreme is the dull-witted person who is oblivious to everything and causes immense moral misery in the world, who lives only within himself and stubbornly insists on his principles, who always says: That is my point of view. Having a point of view is, in moral terms, a bad thing altogether. Keeping an open eye on everything that surrounds us—that is what is essential for us. Apathy lifts us out of the world, while interest places us within it. The world loses us through our apathy, and we become immoral. Thus we see that apathy and disinterest in the world are moral evils of the highest degree.

[ 18 ] But theosophy is precisely the kind of thing that makes the mind ever more active, that helps us to think more clearly about the spiritual realm and to absorb it within ourselves. Just as it is true that heat arises from fire when we stoke the stove, so it is true that interest in all that is human and in all beings arises when we acquire theosophical wisdom. Wisdom is the fuel for interest, and we can simply say—even if it is not immediately apparent—that when Theosophy studies those more distant things, the teachings of Saturn, the Sun, and the Moon, of karma, and so on, it reawakens this interest within us. It is indeed the case that interest is what arises as a product of transformation from theosophical insights, whereas from materialistic insights arises that which we unfortunately see flourishing today and which must be described in radical terms as dullness—a dullness that, if it were to prevail alone in the world, would cause immense harm.

[ 19 ] Just look at how many people go through life, encountering this person or that, yet ultimately never really getting to know them, for these people are completely closed off within themselves. How often do we hear of two people who have been friends for a long time and then suddenly fall out? This stems from the fact that the impulses behind the friendship were of a materialistic nature, and only after a long time does it become clear to those involved that they had not noticed each other’s unsympathetic character traits until now. Very few people today have an open eye for what speaks from person to person. Yet this is precisely what Theosophy is meant to achieve: to expand our consciousness so that we develop an open eye and an open soul for everything human around us, so that we may walk through the world not with indifference, but with genuine interest.

[ 20 ] Here, too, we avoid the other extreme by distinguishing between genuine, proper interest and false interest, thereby maintaining the proper balance. To immediately throw oneself into the arms of every being that presents itself is a passionate loss of self to those beings and not true interest. If we do that, we lose ourselves to the world. Through apathy, the world loses us; through senseless passion, which clouds our judgment in devotion, we lose ourselves to the world. Through healthy interest, we stand morally firm on the middle ground, the point of balance.

[ 21 ] You see, in the third post-Atlantean cultural epoch—that is, the Egyptian-Chaldean period—there was still a certain force present in the majority of the Earth’s population that can be described as the impulse to maintain a balance between dullness and a passionate, self-numbing devotion to the world; and that is what is referred to in ancient times, and even by Plato and Aristotle: wisdom. But people regarded this as a gift from superhuman beings, for the ancient impulses of wisdom were still active right up to those times. Therefore, from this point of view, particularly with regard to moral impulses, we can call the third post-Atlantean cultural epoch the epoch in which wisdom acts instinctively. Therefore, when we go back to this period, we also speak in such a way that we feel: It is true what was presented last year with a completely different intention in the Copenhagen lectures, the content of which is available in the little book: “The Spiritual Guidance of the Individual and of Humanity”; it is true what we expressed through the fact that people at that time were still closer to the divine-spiritual powers. And what brought people even closer to the divine-spiritual powers was, for the third post-Atlantean epoch, instinctive wisdom.

[ 22 ] Back then, it was a gift from the gods to find the right balance in one’s actions—appropriate to the times—between apathy and senseless, passionate devotion. This balance was still maintained by the social structures of that era. There was not yet that complete intermingling of humanity that occurred in the fourth period of post-Atlantean development through the process of the Migration Period. People were still enclosed within national and tribal systems. There, interests were naturally and wisely regulated and sufficiently active to allow the right moral impulses to permeate; and on the other hand, the existence of blood brotherhood among the tribes acted as a barrier against senseless passion. You will admit, upon reflecting on life, that even in our time it is easiest to find an interest within the realm of blood kinship or descent. Yet what is called senseless passion is absent there. But because people were united within a smaller territory during the Egyptian-Chaldean period, the wise middle ground was readily available. But this is the meaning of humanity’s forward development: that what was originally instinctive, what was purely divine-spiritual, gradually disappears, and that human beings become independent of the divine-spiritual powers.

[ 23 ] Thus we see that as early as the fourth post-Atlantean cultural epoch, the Greco-Roman period, the philosophers Plato and Aristotle, as well as public opinion in Greece, regarded wisdom as something that must be attained, as something that is no longer a gift from the gods but must be striven for. For Plato, the foremost virtue is wisdom, and anyone who does not strive for wisdom is considered immoral by Plato.

[ 24 ] We are now in the fifth post-Atlantean cultural epoch. We are still far from the point where the wisdom that is instinctively implanted in humanity like a divine impulse will once again become conscious to it. Therefore, in our time there is a particular danger that people will stray in the two directions mentioned. Hence, there is also a particular need in our time to counteract the great dangers inherent in this situation through a spiritual, through a theosophical worldview, so that what people once possessed as instinctive wisdom may now become conscious wisdom. This is the essence of the Theosophical Movement: that what people once possessed instinctively is now attained as a conscious treasure of wisdom. What else is it but that the gods once bestowed wisdom upon the unconscious human soul as something instinctive, whereas we must now first acquire for ourselves the wisdom concerning the cosmos and the development of humanity? The ancient customs were, after all, also shaped according to the thoughts of the gods. We view Theosophy in the proper sense when we regard it as the exploration of the gods’ thoughts. In those days, they flowed instinctively into human beings; today we must explore them and elevate them to our knowledge. In this respect, therefore, Theosophy must be something divine to us. We must be able to approach this with a sense of reverence, recognizing that the thoughts conveyed to us through Theosophy are truly something divine—something we humans are permitted to think about and reflect upon, since they were the divine thoughts according to which the world was created. If Theosophy is this to us, then we face these matters in such a way that we understand: they are given to us for the fulfillment of our mission. When we study what has been communicated to us about the Saturn, Sun, and Moon evolutions, about reincarnation, about the evolution of individual races, and so on, we will be granted profound insights. But we will only approach this in the right way if we tell ourselves: The thoughts we seek are the thoughts by which the gods have guided evolution. We think the evolution of the gods. If we understand this correctly, then something deeply moral will also come over us. That cannot fail to happen. Then we say to ourselves: In ancient times, people possessed instinctive wisdom from the gods. The gods imparted to them the wisdom by which they shaped the world. This made moral action possible. Now, however, we consciously acquire this wisdom through Theosophy. Therefore, we may also have confidence that this wisdom will be transformed within us into moral impulses, so that we absorb not merely Theosophical wisdom, but also moral impulses through Theosophy.

[ 25 ] What kind of moral impulses will theosophical striving give rise to, particularly in the realm of the life of wisdom? Here we must now touch upon a point whose development the theosophist can indeed foresee, whose profound moral significance and moral weight the theosophist is even meant to foresee—a point of development that is far removed from what is customary today, namely, what Plato still called the ideal of wisdom. Because he described it with words that were common where wisdom still lived instinctively within people, we would do well to replace this expression with another word. We would do well to replace it with the word “truthfulness,” because we have become more individualistic, because we have distanced ourselves from the Divine and must therefore strive to return to it. We must learn to feel the full weight of the word “truthfulness,” and in moral terms this will become a result of theosophical worldview and theosophical attitude. People will learn to feel truthfulness through theosophy.

[ 26 ] Today’s Theosophists, however, will understand how necessary it is to fully grasp the moral dimension of truthfulness at a time when materialism has led to a situation where, although one can still speak of truthfulness, general cultural life is far removed from perceiving what is right in this regard, from sensing what is right. It cannot be otherwise today. Truth is something that must be sorely lacking in contemporary culture, due to a certain characteristic that contemporary culture has acquired. I ask: What does a person today even think when they find certain reports in a newspaper or a publication, and it later turns out that what is said there is simply not true? Please, do think about this. One cannot say that it happens at every turn, but one must say that it happens even at every quarter-turn. Everywhere modern life exists, untruthfulness has become a characteristic of our present cultural epoch, and it is impossible for you to name truthfulness as a characteristic of our epoch.

[ 27 ] Take a person whom you know has written or said something false, and confront them with it. You will find that, as a rule, they have no sense today that this is wrong. They will immediately use the excuse: “Yes, I said it in good faith.” Theosophists must not regard it as morally acceptable when someone says they said something incorrect in good faith. People will increasingly come to understand that one must be certain that what one claims actually happened. One may therefore only say or communicate something after having felt and fulfilled the obligation to verify whether it is indeed so, using the means available. Only when one becomes aware of this obligation can one experience truthfulness as a moral impulse. Then, however, no one will say anymore, when they have put something untrue into the world: “I meant it that way; I said it in good faith.” For they will learn that one is not merely obligated to say what one believes to be correct, but that one is obligated to say only what is true, what is correct. This will inevitably lead to a radical change gradually taking place in our cultural life. The speed of communication, people’s thirst for sensation, and indeed everything that accompanies a materialistic age are enemies of truthfulness. In the moral realm, Theosophy will serve as humanity’s teacher of the duty of truthfulness.

[ 28 ] It is not my task today to discuss the extent to which truthfulness is already being realized within the Theosophical Society, but it must be said that what has been expressed today must, in principle, be a lofty theosophical ideal. Moral evolution within the Theosophical Movement will have enough to do once the moral ideal of truthfulness is thoroughly thought through, felt, and experienced in every direction.

[ 29 ] This moral ideal of truthfulness is what today properly instills virtue in the human soul.

[ 30 ] The second aspect of the soul that we must mention in theosophy is what we usually call the intellectual or emotional soul. You know that it came to the fore especially during the fourth post-Atlantean cultural epoch, the Greco-Roman period. We have already mentioned on several occasions the virtue that is particularly characteristic of this soul element: it is fortitude, bravery, and courage. Its extremes are recklessness and cowardice. Courage, fortitude, and bravery lie in the middle between recklessness and cowardice. The word in the Germanic language, which in German is “Gemüt,” already expresses in its very sound that it is related to this. The word “Gemüt” refers precisely to the middle part of the human soul, that which is courageous, strong, and vigorous within it. This was also the middle “virtue” in Plato and Aristotle. It was the virtue that was still present among humans as a divine gift in the fourth post-Atlantean cultural epoch, whereas wisdom was actually only present as an instinct in the third post-Atlantean cultural epoch. Instinctive bravery and fortitude, as you can gather from the first lectures, were present as a gift from the gods among the people who, as members of the fourth post-Atlantean cultural epoch, met the spread of Christianity to the north. They demonstrated that bravery was still a gift from the gods among them. While among the Chaldeans wisdom—the wise penetration into the mysteries of the starry world—was present as a gift from the gods, as something inspired, so too was bravery and fortitude present among the people of the fourth post-Atlantean cultural period, namely among the Greeks and Romans, and also among the peoples to whom the spread of Christianity was entrusted. This bravery was lost later than wisdom.

[ 31 ] If we now look around at the fifth post-Atlantean cultural epoch, we must say: With regard to this bravery and fortitude, we are in a position similar to that of the Greeks with respect to wisdom in relation to the Chaldeans and Egyptians. We look back on what was a gift from the gods in the immediately preceding epoch and what we can, in a certain sense, strive for once more. But now the two preceding lectures have shown us that in this striving, a transformation must take place in a certain respect. We have seen this transformation in Francis of Assisi, where what was once external courage and bravery—a gift from the gods—has been transformed. We have seen this transformation as the result of an inner moral force, which we recognized yesterday as the power of the Christ impulse. The transformation of courage and bravery then yields what true love is. This genuine love, however, must be guided by another virtue: concern, or participation in the very being toward whom we direct our love. In his “Timon of Athens,” Shakespeare showed how even love or kindness, when it appears passionately, when it appears merely as a quality of human nature without being guided by wisdom and truthfulness, causes harm. There we find a character portrayed who squanders goods in every direction. Generosity is a virtue; but Shakespeare also shows us that nothing but parasites are created by what is squandered there.

[ 32 ] We must therefore say: Just as ancient bravery and fortitude were guided by the mysteries of the European Brahmins, the reclusive sages, so too must there be a guiding force in human nature—a harmonious union of virtue with interest. The interest that brings us together with the outside world in the right way must guide and direct us when we turn our love toward the outside world. Fundamentally, this also emerges from the characteristic, if radical, example of Francis of Assisi. In the case of Francis of Assisi, it was not a pity for people that can easily take on something intrusive and offensive, for even such people are by no means always inspired by the right moral impulses that others wish to shower upon them with their pity. How many people are there who do not want to be given anything out of pity? Understanding and consideration, however, are qualities that are in no way offensive. Being pitied is, under certain circumstances, something a person must reject. Finding understanding for one’s nature is something no healthy person can reject. Therefore, the behavior of another person who acts in accordance with this understanding cannot be criticized. It is this understanding that can guide us with regard to the second virtue: love. It is the virtue that, through the Christ impulse, has specifically become the “virtue of the intellectual or emotional soul”; it is the virtue that we can describe as human love accompanied by human understanding.

[ 33 ] Compassion and shared joy are the virtues that must blossom most beautifully and magnificently in human coexistence in the future, and in a certain sense, in those who understand the Christ impulse correctly, this compassion and this love, this sympathy and this shared joy will arise accordingly, for they will become a feeling. It is precisely through the theosophical understanding of the Christ impulse that this will come to pass—that it will become a feeling.

[ 34 ] Through the Mystery of Golgotha, the Christ descended into the evolution of the Earth. His impulses, his effects are present. They are present everywhere. Why, then, did he descend to this Earth? So that, through what he has to give to the world, evolution might advance in the right sense, so that the evolution of the Earth, with the Christ impulse it has received, might unfold in the right way. If we now, after the Christ impulse has entered the world, destroy something through immorality, through our indifferent disregard for our fellow human beings, then we take a part out of the world into which the Christ impulse has flowed. We thus directly destroy something of the Christ impulse, precisely because it is there. But by giving to the world that which can be given through virtue—which is creative—we build it up. We build it up precisely by giving. It has not been said in vain, time and again, that Christ was first crucified on Golgotha, but that he is continually crucified again and again through the deeds of human beings. Since the Christ impulse flowed into the development of the Earth through the event at Golgotha, we participate at all times, through the immoral acts we commit through lack of love, indifference, and so on, in the sufferings and pains inflicted upon the Christ who came to Earth. That is why it has been said time and again: Christ is crucified anew as long as immorality, lack of love, and indifference persist; since the Christ impulse has permeated the world, it is to this impulse that the suffering is inflicted.

[ 35 ] Just as it is true that through destructive evil we deprive the Christ impulse of something and, as it were, continue the crucifixion on Golgotha, so it is also true that when we act in love, wherever we apply this love, we give the Christ impulse validity and help it to come to life. “Whatever you did for one of the least of these my brothers, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40)—these are the most significant words of love, and these words must become the deepest moral impulse once they are understood theosophically. We do this when we treat our fellow human beings with understanding and do for them this or that which, based on an understanding of their nature, determines our actions, our virtues, and our behavior toward them. Insofar as we behave toward our fellow human beings, we are behaving toward the Christ impulse itself.

[ 36 ] This is a powerful moral impulse; it is something that truly grounds morality when we feel: The mystery of Golgotha has been fulfilled for all people, and from there an impulse has been sent out into the whole world. When you face your fellow human beings, try to understand them in all their differences, whether by race, color, nationality, religious creed, worldview, and so on. When you stand before them and do this or that to them, you are doing it to Christ. Whatever you do to your fellow human being, in the present course of earthly development, you are doing it to Christ. This saying, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me,” becomes at the same time a powerful moral impulse for those who understand the fundamental significance of the Mystery of Golgotha. So that we can say: While the gods of pre-Christian times gave humanity instinctive wisdom, instinctive fortitude, and instinctive bravery, love flows down from the symbol of the cross—that love which is built upon mutual concern from person to person. Through this, this Christ impulse will work powerfully in the world. Once not only the Brahmin loves the Brahmin, the Pariah the Pariah, the Jew the Jew, and the Christian the Christian, but when the Jew is able to understand the Christian, the Pariah the Brahmin, and the American the Asian as human beings and to put himself in their place, then one will also know how deeply Christian it is when we say: Without distinction of any external creed, there must be brotherhood among people. We should regard as of little importance whatever else binds us together. Father, mother, brother, sister, even our own life—we should regard these as of less importance than that which speaks from human soul to human soul. Whoever does not, in this sense, regard as of little importance that which impedes belonging to the Christ impulse that balances human differences, whoever does not regard the distinctions as of little importance, cannot be my disciple. This is the impulse of love that flows forth from the Mystery of Golgotha, which we perceive in this regard as a renewal of that which was given to humanity as an original virtue. We now have only to consider what we can address as the virtue of the consciousness soul: moderation, prudence. Insofar as we find ourselves in the fourth post-Atlantean cultural epoch, these virtues are still instinctive. Plato and Aristotle called them the principal virtues of the consciousness soul, understanding them in turn as states of equilibrium, as the middle ground of what is present in the consciousness soul. The consciousness soul exists in that human beings become conscious of the external world through their physicality. The physical body is first and foremost the instrument of the conscious soul, and it is also through the physical body that the human being attains even self-consciousness. The physical body must therefore be preserved. If the human being’s physical body were not preserved for the earthly mission, then the earthly mission could not be fulfilled.

[ 37 ] But there is a limit here as well. If a person were to use all the strength within him solely for the sake of pleasure, he would shut himself off from the world, and the world would lose him. The mere hedonist, who uses all the strength within him solely to procure pleasures—so Plato and Aristotle believe—shuts himself off from the world, and the world loses him. The person who denies himself everything grows weaker and weaker and is finally overtaken by the external course of the world; he is worn down by the external flow of the world. He who goes beyond the powers allotted to him as a human being, who overreaches them, is overtaken by the world’s process and loses himself to the world. Thus, what the human being has developed to form the conscious soul can be worn down, so that he finds himself in a position to lose the world. The virtue that avoids these two extremes is moderation. Moderation is therefore neither asceticism nor indulgence, but the right middle ground between the two. And that is the virtue of the consciousness soul.

[ 38 ] With regard to this virtue, we have not yet moved beyond the instinctive stage. A moment’s reflection will show you that, deep down, people are very much dependent on experimentation, on swinging back and forth between extremes. If you disregard the few people who are already striving today to develop an awareness in this area, you will find that the vast majority of people live very much according to a certain pattern, which in Central Europe is often described by saying: There are certain people in Berlin who indulge throughout the entire winter, indulging again and again and stuffing themselves with all manner of delicacies and treats, and then go to Karlsbad in the summer to eliminate the resulting ill effects by resorting to the opposite extreme. There you have the scales tipping first to one side and then to the other. That is merely a radical case. Even if what has been described does not occur to this extent everywhere, this oscillation between indulgence and deprivation is present everywhere. That is sufficiently clear. People themselves ensure that excess occurs on one side, and they then allow doctors to prescribe so-called detoxification cures—that is, the other extreme—so that the wrong may be made right again.

[ 39 ] You can see from this that people are still very much in an instinctive state in this area, and that we must say: There is a kind of divine gift present in human beings, who do indeed have an instinctive sense of not leaning too much toward one side or the other. But just as humanity’s other instinctive qualities have been lost, so too will this one be lost during the transition from the fifth to the sixth post-Atlantean cultural epoch. It will be lost as a natural predisposition, and now you will be able to appreciate how much the theosophical worldview and attitude will have to contribute to gradually developing consciousness in this area.

[ 40 ] Today there are still few—perhaps even self-taught—theosophists who realize that theosophy is the key to achieving true awareness in this area as well. When Theosophy gains more prominence in this field, what I can only describe in the following way will come to pass: People will gradually develop an ever-increasing longing for the great spiritual truths. Even if Theosophy is still mocked today, it will not always be so. It will spread, will overcome all external opposition and everything else that still stands in its way, and theosophists will not be content merely to preach universal love for humanity. People will come to understand that one cannot master Theosophy in a single day any more than a person can sustain themselves for a lifetime in a single day, and that it involves continually acquiring more and more of Theosophy. It will become increasingly rare within the Theosophical Movement for people to say: These are our principles, and if we have these principles, then we are simply Theosophists. The constant immersion in the community, feeling and experiencing the living essence of Theosophy, and living together will spread further and further. But as people process within themselves the unique thoughts, the unique feelings and impulses that come from Theosophical wisdom, what happens then? Is it not true that we all know that Theosophists can never hold a materialistic view? They hold precisely the opposite of a materialistic view. Someone thinks materialistically who says: When a person has this or that thought, a movement of brain molecules or atoms takes place, and because this movement takes place, that is why the person has the thought. The thought emerges from the brain, as it were, like a fine smoke, similar to the flame from a candle. Such is the materialistic view. The opposite is the theosophical view. Here it is the thoughts, the soul experiences, that set the brain and the nervous system in motion. The way our brain functions depends on what thoughts we think. But this is precisely the opposite of what materialism claims. If you want to know what a person’s brain is like, you must investigate what thoughts they have had; for just as handwriting is nothing other than the result of thoughts, so too are the movements of the brain nothing other than the result of thoughts.

[ 41 ] Doesn’t this lead you to say that the brain is processed differently at this very moment, when you are experiencing theosophical thoughts, than when you are in a group playing cards? Different processes take place in your souls when you follow theosophical thoughts than when you are in a group playing cards or watching a mental image in a cinema. But in the human organism, nothing exists in isolation; nothing stands alone. Everything is interconnected; one thing affects the other. Thoughts affect the brain and the nervous system; this is connected to our entire organism. Even if this is still hidden from many people today—once the inherited traits that still reside in our bodies have been overcome, the following will occur. Thoughts will communicate from the brain; they will pass into the stomach, and the result will be that the things which still appeal to people today will no longer appeal to those who have taken up theosophical thoughts. Instead, the thoughts that theosophists have taken up are thoughts of God. These work upon the entire organism so that it tastes what is right. What is not suitable for him, the person will then perceive as unpleasant through smell and sensation. A peculiar perspective, a perspective that might perhaps be called materialistic. But it is precisely the opposite of that. This kind of appetite—that you love one thing and prefer it when eating, while hating another and not wanting to eat it—will result as a consequence of theosophical work. You can judge this for yourself if you observe that today you may feel a revulsion toward certain things that you did not have in your pre-theosophical time.

[ 42 ] This will become more and more widespread as people work selflessly on their higher development in such a way that the world can benefit from them. One must not simply play hide-and-seek with the words “selflessness” and “egoism.” It is indeed very easy to misuse these words. It is not merely selfless when a person says: “I only want to be active in the world and for the world; what does my own spiritual development matter? I only want to work, not strive selfishly...” It is not egoism when a person develops themselves further, because by doing so they make themselves more capable of actively participating in the further development of the world. If one neglects one’s own further development, one renders oneself unfit for the world; one withdraws one’s strength from the world. For the world’s sake, too, the right thing must be done in order to bring about in ourselves the development that the Divine has intended for us.

[ 43 ] Thus, through theosophy—or, to put it better, a core of humanity will be developed through theosophy, which not only instinctively perceives moderation as a guiding ideal, but also has a conscious sympathy for that which makes human beings, in a dignified way, a building block of the divine world order, and a conscious aversion to that which destroys human beings as a building block of the world order.

[ 44 ] Thus we see that moral impulses are present even in what is cultivated within the human being himself, and so we find what we might call “wisdom” as moderation in its transformed form. The ideal of “wisdom of life” to be embraced for the next, sixth post-Atlantean cultural epoch will be that ideal virtue which Plato calls “justice.” This is the harmonious harmony of these virtues. As the virtues have shifted somewhat within humanity, what was regarded as justice in pre-Christian times has also changed. Such a single virtue, which brings about this harmony, does not exist in that era. Harmony stands before people’s eyes as an ideal of the distant future. Courage—we have seen that it has transformed into love as a moral impulse. We have also seen that wisdom has become truthfulness. Truthfulness is, first and foremost, the virtue that can place the human being in a dignified manner and in the right relationship within external life. But if we wish to attain truthfulness in relation to spiritual matters, how can we then establish this in relation to spiritual matters? We come to truthfulness; we come to that which can set our feeling soul ablaze as a virtue through the right understanding, the right interest, and the appropriate participation. What, then, is this participation in relation to the spiritual world? If we wish to face the physical world—and first and foremost, human beings—then we must open ourselves to them; we must have an open eye for their nature. But how do we gain an open eye toward the spiritual world? We gain an open eye toward the spiritual world when we develop a very specific kind of feeling, a kind of feeling that also emerged when ancient wisdom—instinctive wisdom—had sunk into the depths of the soul life. It is the kind of feeling that we often hear described in connection with the Greeks by the words: All philosophical thinking begins with wonder, with amazement. In taking wonder and amazement as the starting point of our relationship to the supersensible world, something profoundly moral is indeed being expressed. The wild, uncultivated human being is initially little inclined to wonder at the great phenomena of the world. It is precisely through progressive spiritualization that the human being comes to find mysteries in everyday phenomena and to sense a spiritual reality behind them. It is wonder that directs our soul upward into the spiritual realms so that we may penetrate their insights, and we can penetrate these insights only when our soul is drawn to the objects to be known. It is this attraction that triggers wonder, amazement, and faith. In fact, it is always this wonder and this amazement that draw us toward the supernatural, and it is at the same time what is commonly called faith. Faith, wonder, and amazement are the three powers of the soul that lead us beyond the ordinary world.

[ 45 ] When we are filled with wonder at our fellow human beings, we seek to understand them. By understanding their nature, we arrive at the virtue of brotherhood, and we will best realize this virtue when we approach others with reverence. We will then see that reverence becomes something we must show to every human being. If we do this, we will come to become ever more truthful. Truth will become something to which we feel committed. The supersensible world will become something toward which we incline when we sense it, and through knowledge we will attain that which, as supersensible wisdom, has already descended into the subconscious realms of the soul. Only after supersensible wisdom had descended did the saying arise that philosophy begins with wonder and amazement. This saying can make it clear to you that wonder and amazement first entered world development at the time when the Christ impulse came into the world.

[ 46 ] Now that we have already identified the second of the virtues as love, let us turn to what we have described as wisdom for the times to come, and for the present times as instinctive moderation. In these virtues, man stands face to face with himself. There, so to speak, he acts in such a way that he provides for himself through the actions he performs in the world. Therefore, it is necessary that an objective standard of value be established for him.

[ 47 ] Now we see something emerging that is developing more and more, and which I have often spoken of in other contexts as well—something that first arose in the Greek era, during the fourth post-Atlantean cultural epoch. We can actually demonstrate how, in ancient Greek drama—for example, in Aeschylus—the Erinyes and Furies play a role that is then transformed in Euripides into the conscience. From this we see that what we call conscience did not yet exist at all in earlier times. Conscience is, in particular, that which stands as a normative standard for our own actions, where we go too far in our demands, seeking our own advantage too much. Conscience acts as a normative standard, interposing itself between our antipathies and sympathies.

[ 48 ] In this way, we gain, so to speak, that which is more objective, that which has a greater outward effect, as opposed to the virtues of truthfulness, love, and wisdom. Love stands at the center here, and it acts as something that must permeate and regulate all life, including all social life. Likewise, it exerts a regulating influence on what human beings have developed as inner impulses. But what human beings have developed as truthfulness will manifest itself in the belief in a supersensible knowledge. Wisdom, that which stems from within ourselves, we must feel as a divine-spiritual regulator that surely guides us along the path of the right middle, in a manner similar to that of the conscience.

[ 49 ] It would, of course, be extremely easy to address the various objections that might be raised at this point, if we had the time. We will, however, examine just one of them in a bit more detail. One might say, for example: Someone claims that conscience and wonder are something that has only recently entered into humanity, whereas they are in fact eternal qualities of human nature. They are not. Anyone who were to claim that they are eternal qualities of human nature would thereby only demonstrate that they are unfamiliar with the relevant circumstances. It will become increasingly clear that in ancient times, people had not yet descended so far onto the physical plane, that they were still more closely connected to the divine impulses, that humanity was in a state which it will consciously strive to attain again when it is more governed by truthfulness, love, and the art of living with regard to the physical plane, and with regard to spiritual knowledge, when he is governed by faith in the supersensible world. It need not be a faith that leads directly into the supersensible world. But it will ultimately transform into supersensible knowledge.

[ 50 ] Just as with faith, so it is with love, which acts outwardly. Conscience is that which will intervene in the conscious soul to regulate it. Faith, love, conscience—these three forces will be the three stars of moral power that will enter human souls, particularly through the theosophical worldview. The moral perspective of the future can open itself only to those who conceive of the aforementioned virtues as ever-increasing. The theosophical worldview will place moral life in the light of these virtues, and these will be constructive forces moving into the future.

[ 51 ] Let us conclude our discussion with something that can only be ascertained through prolonged examination, and which I can therefore only mention. We see the Christ impulse entering human evolution through the Mystery of Golgotha. We know that at that time, with the events of the Mystery of Golgotha, a human organism—consisting of the physical body, the etheric body, and the astral body—received the I-impulse from above as the Christ impulse. It was this Christ impulse that was received by the Earth and flowed into earthly cultural life. It was now present within it as the I of the Christ. We further know that the physical body, the etheric body, and the astral body remained with Jesus of Nazareth. The Christ impulse was, after all, present within him as the I. Jesus of Nazareth separated from the Christ impulse on Golgotha, which then flowed into the development of the Earth. In its development, this impulse signifies the development of the Earth itself.

[ 52 ] Take seriously those things that are often mentioned, so that people can understand them more easily. The world is maya, or illusion, as we have often heard. But people must gradually come to understand the truth, the reality of this outer world. The development of the Earth essentially consists in the fact that, with regard to all external things in the second period of Earth’s development—in which we now find ourselves—everything that was formed in the first period is dissolving, so that everything we see physically on the outside will fall away from human development, just as the physical body falls away from the human being.

[ 53 ] What, then, remains? — one might ask. The forces that, as real forces, are incorporated into human beings through the process of human development on Earth. And the most real impulse within this is the one that flowed into Earth’s development through the Christ. This Christ impulse, however, finds nothing on Earth with which it can clothe itself. It must therefore first receive a shell through the further development of the Earth, and when the Earth has reached its end, then the fully developed Christ will be the final human being, just as Adam was the first human being around whom humanity in all its diversity has grouped itself.

[ 54 ] The words “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” contain a meaningful message for us. What, then, has been done for Christ? The actions performed in accordance with the Christ impulse, under the influence of conscience, under the influence of faith, and in the spirit of knowledge, stand apart from earthly life as we have known it; and insofar as a person gives something to his brothers through his actions and moral conduct, he gives to Christ at the same time. Let this be established here as a guiding principle: Everything we create in terms of forces, acts of faith and trust, and acts performed out of wonder and amazement—by offering this simultaneously to the Christ-I—becomes something that envelops the Christ like a shell, comparable to the human astral body. We shape the astral body around the Christ-I impulse through all moral acts of wonder, trust, reverence, and faith—in short, through everything that paves the way for supersensory knowledge. Through all these acts, we foster love. This is already in the spirit of the saying cited: “Whatever you do for one of my brothers, you have done for me.”

[ 55 ] We shape the etheric body of the Christ through acts of love, and through what is brought about in the world by the impulses of conscience, we shape for the Christ impulse that which corresponds to the physical body of the human being. When the Earth has one day reached its goal, when human beings will understand the right moral impulses through which all good is brought about, then what has flowed into human evolution as the Christ impulse through the Mystery of Golgotha—like an I—will be resolved. It will then be enveloped by an astral body formed by faith, by all the acts of wonder and amazement of human beings; by something like an etheric body formed by acts of love; and by something surrounding it like a physical body formed by acts of conscience.

[ 56 ] Thus, the future evolution of humanity will unfold through the interaction of human moral impulses with the Christ impulse. We see humanity before us in perspective as a vast organic structure. As people come to understand how to integrate their actions into this great organism, shaping their impulses through their own deeds as if they were shells around it, so will humanity, through the development of the Earth, form the foundation for a great community that can be thoroughly permeated by the Christ impulse, made Christian through and through.

[ 57 ] Thus we see that morality need not be preached, but that it can certainly be justified by showing what actually happens, what has actually happened, and what gives truth to such things as are felt by particularly spiritually inclined individuals. It will always strike one as particularly poignant when one considers how Goethe, after losing his friend, Duke Karl August, wrote all manner of things in a lengthy letter from Dornburg near Jena, and then on the very same day—it was in the year 1828, three and a half years before his death, so to speak at the end of his life’s journey—penned a wonderfully remarkable phrase: “The rational world is to be regarded as a great immortal individual, which inexorably brings about what is necessary and thereby even rises above the contingent to become the Lord.” How could such a thought become more concrete than by creating a mental image of this individual acting and creating among us, and by conceiving ourselves as connected to it in its action and creation? Through the Mystery of Golgotha, the greatest Individual has entered into human evolution, and by deliberately organizing their lives as described above, human beings will arrange themselves around the Christ impulse, so that something is formed around him that will be like a shell around the being, around the core.

[ 58 ] There is much more I could say about what theosophy holds to be a virtue. In particular, one could add lengthy and important reflections on that truthfulness which would arise in relation to karma. Through the theosophical worldview, the idea of karma will have to become increasingly integrated into human development. Through this, humanity will also have to learn more and more to view and organize its life in such a way that its virtues correspond to karma. Through the concept of karma, humanity will also have to learn to recognize that it must not, through its subsequent actions, deny its previous actions. A certain consistency in life, a taking responsibility for what we have done—this will still have to emerge from human development. We can see how far humanity still is from this when we look more closely at people. That a person develops through the things they have accomplished is a well-known fact. If it now seems that the consequence of an action is no longer present, then one nevertheless does what one should actually only do if one had not committed the first action. That human beings feel responsible for what they have done, that they also take karma into their consciousness—this is something that could yet emerge as a subject of consideration.

[ 59 ] However, you will discover much more for yourselves through the guidelines provided in these three lectures; you will find, for example, how fruitful these ideas can become if you develop them further. The fact that human beings will live through ever-renewed incarnations for the remainder of Earth’s evolution is part of the task: to change, through free creation, through creation according to one’s free will, everything that has been skewed in one direction or another with regard to the virtues described, so that balance—the middle state—may be established and thus the goal, characterized by the description of the formation of the physical body in relation to the Christ impulse, may gradually be attained.

[ 60 ] Thus, we see before us not merely an abstract ideal of universal human brotherhood—which, admittedly, receives strong impulses when we take the theosophical worldview as our foundation—but we see that there is something real in our earthly evolution, that there is an impulse within it that came into the world through the Mystery of Golgotha. We then also find ourselves compelled to act upon the soul of feeling, the soul of understanding, and the soul of consciousness in such a way that this ideal being becomes real, and we are united with this being as with a great immortal individual. The thought that only in this lies the possibility of further evolution, the possibility of fulfilling the Earth’s mission by forming a whole together with this great individual, is realized in the second moral principle: Whatever you do as if it were born solely from yourself pushes you away, distances you from the great individual; thereby you destroy something; but whatever you do to build up this great immortal individual in the manner described above, you do for the further development, for the continued existence of the entire world organism.

[ 61 ] These are two thoughts that we need only consider to see that their effect is not merely to preach morality, but to establish it. For terrifying and horrifying, and suppressing all opposing desires, is the thought: Through your actions, you are destroying that which you are meant to build up. But the thought that spurs us on to good deeds, even to intensely moral impulses, is this: You are building up this immortal individual; you are making yourself a part of this immortal individual. Thus, morality is not merely preached; rather, attention is drawn to thoughts that can themselves be moral impulses, to thoughts capable of establishing morality.

[ 62 ] The more truthfulness is cultivated, the more quickly such a moral code will become a theosophical worldview and a theosophical mindset. I have made it my task to express this in these three lectures. Admittedly, some things could only be hinted at, but your own souls will further develop many of the thoughts that have been touched upon during these three evenings. In this way, we will also achieve the greatest possible unity across the earth. When we come together, as we have now done as Central European Theosophists and as Theosophists of the North, in shared contemplation, and when we allow the thoughts that arose during such gatherings to resonate within us, we will best realize that Theosophy is meant to establish, even in the present, a truly spiritual life. Even if we must part ways again, we know that we are most united in our theosophical thoughts, and this knowledge is at the same time a moral impulse. To know that we are united under the same ideals with people who are generally far apart geographically, but with whom we can occasionally come together on special occasions, is a stronger moral impulse than constant physical togetherness.

[ 63 ] The fact that we think this way about our time together, that we interpret our shared reflections in this manner, fills my soul—especially at the conclusion of these lectures—with something I would like to use, so to speak, to bid you farewell, and of which I am convinced that, if understood in the right light, it will also provide a spiritual foundation for theosophic life as it unfolds. With this thought, with these feelings, let us conclude these reflections today.