The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Third Lecture

[ 1 ] What I have to offer today as a continuation of last week’s reflections, I will first attempt to clarify once again through a kind of hypothetical case. Some things—particularly those related to the deepest mysteries of human existence—are best removed from abstract consideration and brought closer to reality by using examples. Of course, what I will present as a hypothetical example applies to all possible situations in life. So let us first consider a hypothetical example.

[ 2 ] Let’s imagine a school—perhaps one with three classes, each supervised by a teacher, and a principal. Let’s assume these three teachers have very, very different personalities and temperaments. Let’s imagine it’s the beginning of a new school year. The principal discusses the coming school year with his teachers. First, there is a teacher in charge of one class. After the principal asks him how he intends to organize things and how he plans to make the best progress in the coming school year, the teacher replies: “Well, during the summer break, I carefully wrote down what I believed the students had not fully grasped in my instructions and in my overall school management last year—in other words, what I had not organized well. And I have now drawn up a new plan for the coming year—a plan that includes everything I’ve become convinced was done well last year, that really sank in.” I have structured all the assignments I will be giving throughout the year in such a way that my entire plan for the coming year includes what worked best last year—things that can therefore be assumed to have proven effective in the past year. — When the principal asked him a few more questions, he was immediately able to present a plan he had drawn up for the distribution of the curriculum. He was also able to specify which in-class assignments he would give throughout the year and which homework assignments he would assign. He had prepared all the topics for class and homework assignments based on the careful lessons learned, as he put it, from the previous year. The principal then said: “Well, I am very satisfied. You are undoubtedly a conscientious teacher, and I am confident that you will achieve something outstanding with your class.”

[ 3 ] The second teacher said something similar: “I went over the entire curriculum that I covered with my students last year, and I saw all the mistakes I had made.” I have now structured the new plan so that I will avoid all the mistakes that were made.” — And he, too, was able to show the principal a detailed curriculum: topics for all classwork and homework that he intended to assign to the students over the course of the year, based, as he said, on the experiences of the previous year—specifically, the lessons learned from the mistakes he had made. The principal said: “The one I spoke with earlier tried to note down everything excellent that he had accomplished and then base his lesson plan on that. You have tried to avoid all mistakes. It can be done both ways. I am confident that you will achieve something outstanding with your class.” I note with a certain satisfaction that I have teachers at my school who, by looking back on what they have accomplished, know how to act appropriately through wise self-awareness. — Recognizing one’s strengths is something that must make a very good impression on a principal.

[ 4 ] Now it was the third teacher’s turn. The third teacher said: “I, too, spent a lot of time during the vacation reflecting on what happened in my class last year.” I tried to study the students’ personalities; I took a sort of look back at what happened with one student and what happened with another.” “Well,” said the principal, “then you must have seen what mistakes you made and what you did well, and you’ll be able to come up with a sort of plan for the coming year.” — Then the teacher said: “No. I’m sure I’ve made mistakes. I’ve also done some things well. But I’ve only studied the students’ personalities and what happened. I haven’t given much thought to whether I made specific mistakes, or whether this or that was particularly good. I haven’t done that. I thought to myself: ‘Yes, the way things turned out is simply how they were meant to be.’” And so I’ve simply studied what I believe had to happen out of a kind of necessity. The students were of a certain disposition. I carefully studied what kind of disposition they had. I, too, was of a certain disposition, and from our combined dispositions, what could have come out is exactly what came out. “Yes, that’s all I can say,” said the third teacher. — Well, said the principal, it certainly seems as though you’re a rather self-satisfied man. Have you also drawn up a curriculum for yourself? Have you worked out the topics you’ll be giving your students over the course of the year as schoolwork and homework? — No, replied the teacher, I haven’t done that. — Well, how do you plan to handle things in your class, then? — Then the teacher said: “I’ll see what kind of students I’ll have this year. And I think I’ll be able to assess that better than last year, because I always spent my vacations studying the students from the previous year. But I can’t know what they’ll be like this year—that will only become clear in time.” “Well, aren’t you going to prepare topics for classwork and homework?” — “Yes, but I’ll do that once I see how talented—or untalented—the students are. I’ll try to adapt accordingly.” — “Well,” said the principal, “then we can just sail off into the unknown. It’s hard to go along with that.”

[ 5 ] But there was nothing else to be done. The principal had to go along with it. And so the next school year began. The principal inspected the school frequently. He saw how the first two teachers were doing an excellent job. With the third, however, he always felt that things weren’t quite working out. There was no certainty, he said; one never really knew what would happen the following month. Well, things went on like that throughout the year. And finally, the report cards came out. From the report cards, the principal believed he could see that the first two teachers had had a very positive impact. Of course, some of their students had failed and others had passed, but everything had gone smoothly. The third teacher’s results weren’t any worse after the grading. But over the course of the year, the opinion had spread that he was simply very lenient. While the others were strict teachers, he was very lenient, turning a blind eye very often, and the principal was convinced that the last teacher’s class had actually performed the worst.

[ 6 ] Then the next year came. The vacation was over. The new school year began, and the first two teachers expressed similar opinions, while the third spoke in much the same way as he had the previous year. Once again, a similar situation unfolded. The school inspector, after all, visited quite often. Naturally, he noticed what the principal had, in a sense, already prepared him to see: that the first two teachers were very good, but the other was a very mediocre teacher. Yes, there was nothing else to be done. I hardly need to mention that the two good teachers received medals after a few years, and that the principal was nominated for a higher-class medal. That’s a minor detail, isn’t it?

[ 7 ] After some time, the following happened: The principal left that school, and another principal took over at the beginning of the school year. He then discussed with the three teachers how they would proceed in the coming school year and matters of that sort. Once again, the first teacher spoke in a manner similar to what I have already described to you; as did the second, and the third as well. Then the principal said: “Yes, yes, there is certainly a certain difference in approach. However, I do believe that the first two gentlemen should model themselves a little after the third teacher.”—“What?” said the first two gentlemen, “but the former principal always said that he should model himself after us!”—“Yes,” said this principal, “that’s not what I mean; it seems to me that the first two gentlemen should model themselves after the third.” — But they couldn’t quite model themselves after him, for they couldn’t see how one could possibly foresee, in any reasonable way, what would happen in the coming year if one stumbled into that year as blindly as the last teacher had. They simply couldn’t form a mental image of it.

[ 8 ] The former principal had, in the meantime—naturally, thanks to his insight into the smooth running of school affairs—become a school inspector himself. He was now extremely surprised by the views his successor was expressing to him, especially at the very school he knew so well. How could that be? And he said: “Yes, the third teacher—he never told me anything other than: ‘I have to see what the students are like first, then I can put together a program week by week’—but you can’t foresee anything that way! It’s simply impossible not to foresee something at all.” Then the principal said: “Yes, but look—of course, I also asked my teachers how they differ when it comes to planning ahead. The first two gentlemen always told me: ‘I know exactly that on February 25 of next year I’ll give this or that test; I can say exactly what will happen then, and I know exactly that by Easter I’ll cover this or that.’ The other teacher told me: “I don’t know exactly how I’ll handle things at Easter, nor do I know what kind of test I’ll give in February; I’ll base my decisions on how the students perform.” And he also believed that, in a certain way, he could foresee that things would turn out well. “Actually,” said the new principal, “I completely agree with him. You can only see afterward that what you set out to do was quite good; that by comparing your approach to last year’s—by studying the students’ personalities from last year—you acquire greater ability to get to know the new students’ personalities.” I realize that one achieves more that way.—Yes, but one can’t know anything in advance! Everything remains uncertain. Where, then, is the plan for the entire school year? said the previous director; one can’t foresee anything at all. But one must be able to foresee something if one wants to organize things sensibly. — Yes, said the new principal, one can foresee that things will go well if one, so to speak, connects with the genius that reigns over the student body and has a certain trust in the genius at work within that student body. And if one trusts that genius—praises it, as it were—and follows its lead, then one may not be able to predict what the test will be in February, but one will be able to predict that the right one will be given. — “Yes, but you can’t foresee anything with certainty there; everything remains uncertain,” said the school inspector. — Then the principal said: “You see, Mr. School Inspector, I used to engage in something that people call Spiritual Science.” “From that, I’ve always remembered that beings who are far more exalted than even humans are said to have done the same in much more important matters: for in the beginning of the Bible, for example, it says, ‘And God created the light,’ and only after he had created the light does it say, ‘And then he saw that it was good.’” — Well, the inspector really had nothing sensible to say to that.

[ 9 ] Well, things went on like that for a while. After all, there are few principals like the one I’ve hypothetically assumed—I’d even say “hypothetically to the second power,” because even in a hypothetical scenario, it’s already hypothetical to assume such a principal. So the principal was sent away very soon, and another one, who was somewhat more like the inspector, was sent in his place, and the situation continued until one day it finally came to the point where the completely “disorderly” man was driven out of the school amid ridicule and disgrace, and another, who was cut from the same cloth as the first two, was sent in his place. At first, there was simply no other way to handle the matter, for in all the records and all the conduct reports—I believe that’s what they’re called—it was noted what great progress had been made under the first two teachers, and how, under the third, the school had essentially produced only poor results, for the simple reason that he turned a blind eye; otherwise, everyone would have had to fail. There was simply nothing to be done with a person like the third teacher.

[ 10 ] Many years passed. By chance, a very strange event followed. The principal, who had been dismissed, had tried to get to the bottom of the matter: what had become of the two teachers who had always engaged in rigorous self-reflection—specifically, by recording the topics with which they had had less success and then choosing those with which they had succeeded—and what the second teacher had achieved, and what the third had achieved. They even looked a little into what the students in question were subsequently able to achieve with other teachers. They found that the students of the third teacher made much less progress than the students of the first two teachers once they had moved on to other teachers. But the principal didn’t stop there. He delved even deeper into the matter and tracked the lives of the people who had been taught by these teachers. He then discovered that those who had been taught by the first two teachers had certainly become respectable people—with exceptions, of course—meaning they hadn’t achieved anything extraordinary, but they had become quite decent people. But among the students the third teacher had in his class, there were some who had gone on to become quite remarkable individuals, who had achieved far more outstanding things than the students of the others.

[ 11 ] In that one case, he was able to demonstrate it. But it didn’t make much of an impression on the world, because people said: “You can’t always go around tracking the entire lives of everyone who graduates from school. Come on, that’s not possible! And besides, that’s not really what matters anyway.” That’s what people thought.

[ 12 ] Why am I telling you all this? You see, there is a significant difference between the first two teachers and the third teacher. The first two teachers spent the entire vacation dwelling on how they had worked during the past year. The third teacher didn’t dwell on it; instead, he had a sense that things had to turn out the way they did. When the principal—the first principal—kept telling him, “Well, then you can’t possibly know how to avoid mistakes in the coming year, or how you can achieve what’s good if you don’t reflect on what you did well last year”—he didn’t say anything at first, because he didn’t really feel like explaining that to this principal. But afterward he thought to himself: “Well, even if I do know exactly which mistakes arose from my collaboration with my students, I have different students this year, and so the mistakes made last year have no bearing on the present. I have to work with the new group of students.”

[ 13 ] In short, the first two teachers were completely immersed in the dead, while the last teacher integrated himself into the living. One could also say that the first teachers always took the past into account, while the last teacher dealt with the immediate present, and he did not dwell on the past, telling himself: “That’s just how it had to be; it necessarily happened that way given the circumstances.”

[ 14 ] The point is that if one views things so superficially, based on external judgments, one can indeed go astray when it comes to the actual events of the world. One goes astray because, if one follows the example of the first teachers, one judges the present based on the dead past—on that which must remain in the past. The third teacher took what was alive from the past and brought this vitality to light simply by studying characters; through this study of characters, he perfected himself, focusing above all on advancing himself by reflecting on the past. Then he said to himself: If I can improve myself in this way, what I have to do in the future will be accomplished with the greater abilities I have thereby acquired.

[ 15 ] The first two teachers, harboring a certain superstition about the past, told themselves: Mistakes that have been made in the past must be avoided in the future, and virtues that have been demonstrated in the past must be applied in the future. But they applied this in a lifeless way. They did so not with the intention of developing their own abilities, but rather by relying solely on external observation to make decisions. They did not seek to bring about change through active work on themselves; instead, they believed that from observation alone—from what observation reveals—they could gain something for the future.

[ 16 ] From a Spiritual Science perspective, we must say: The first teacher who has carefully examined the virtues he has asserted in the past and now wishes to incorporate these virtues into his work in the future is acting in an Ahrimanic sense. That is an Ahrimanic act. One clings to the past and, out of personal egoism and with a sense of self-satisfaction, looks back with satisfaction on everything one has done well and takes credit for it. The word is not poorly chosen, for one truly looks back on what one has done well and wishes to develop it further. One takes credit for having done this or that so well and for now being able to make further use of it.

[ 17 ] The second of the teachers had a character that was more dominated by Luciferic forces. He pondered the mistakes he had made and told himself: Well, I must avoid these mistakes. He did not say to himself: What happened was necessary; it had to happen that way—but rather he said: I have made mistakes. There is always something selfish about this—the desire to have been better than one actually was—when one tells oneself that one has made mistakes that should have been avoided and that one must now avoid them. But one clings to the past, just as Lucifer does, who spiritually carries the past over into the present. That is a Luciferic way of thinking.

[ 18 ] The third teacher was, I would say, inspired by the forces of the naturally evolving divine beings, by their true divine principle—which is expressed right at the beginning of the Bible in the fact that the Elohim first create, and then see that what they had created was good; but they do not view this in a self-centered way, as if they themselves were superior beings because they had created something good; rather, they recognize that it was good and incorporate that into their further creation. They integrate this into their own development. They live within the living and weave within this living reality.

[ 19 ] What matters is that we realize how we ourselves, as living beings, are placed within a world of living beings. If we realize this, then, in a sense, we will not become critics of the gods—for example, the Elohim. For anyone who wishes to place his own wisdom above the wisdom of the gods might well say: Well, if these gods want to be gods, didn’t they foresee even once that the light would be good? To me, these gods aren’t even prophets! If I were a god, I would, of course, create light only if I knew beforehand what the light was like—and if I did not have to wait until afterward to see that the light is good.

[ 20 ] But this is human wisdom, which is placed above divine wisdom. In a certain sense, the third teacher also foresaw what was to come, but he foresaw it in a living sense, by devoting himself—I would say—to the genius of action, the genius of evolution, telling himself: By incorporating what I gained through the study of character last year, by not dwelling on the mistakes I made—necessarily for the simple reason that I was simply as I was—and by studying carefully without criticizing what stood before me as my own past, thereby I have enhanced my ability and, moreover, acquired a more discerning eye for what is now my new class of students.—And he realized that the first two teachers were, after all, only viewing the students through the lens of what they had done the previous year—which they could never truly assess. So he was able to say: “Yes, quite certainly, I believe that in four weeks I will give the students the right test, and I can quite certainly trust in this prophecy of mine that I will give the right test.”

[ 21 ] The others were better prophets. For they could say: “I will give the test I have written down; I will certainly give that one.” But that was a foreknowledge of facts, not a foreknowledge of the course of dynamic forces. This distinction must be firmly kept in mind. Prophecy as such is not impossible. But prophecy concerning what happens in specific details—when woven into these details is an essence that is to act of its own accord—such prophecy can only be possible if one looks solely at those phenomena that are carried over from the present into the future by Lucifer and Ahriman.

[ 22 ] We are gradually drawing closer to the great question that has been occupying us in these lectures on freedom and necessity. But it is precisely with this question—which has such a profound impact on the entire course of world events and on all human affairs—that we must also confront all the difficulties. For example, we must be clear that, as we survey what has taken place—and in which we ourselves are involved—we view it as a necessity. And the moment we know all the conditions, we view it as necessary. There is no doubt at all; we view what has happened as necessary. But at the same time, we must ask ourselves: Is it always possible, as so often happens, to find the causes of a later event in what immediately preceded it? Natural science must, in a certain sense, proceed in such a way that it sees the cause of what happens in the near future in the immediately preceding period. When I conduct an experiment, I must, of course, be clear about what happens later and recognize that the cause lies in what happened before. But that by no means implies that this must apply to the entire course of world events, for, first of all, we could very easily be mistaken about the relationship between cause and effect if we were to trace it in this way by following the threads of what came later and what came earlier. I would like to clarify this with an analogy.

[ 23 ] When we perceive reality externally through our senses, we can say: “Certainly, because this is the case, that must also be the case.” However, when we extend this to the totality of events, we very often fall into the error that I will now characterize by means of a comparison. We arrive at the following error. For the sake of simplicity, let’s assume that a person is driving himself in a carriage. We see a horse, a carriage behind it, and a person sitting on it—I’ve used this example many times before—who is thus driving. We look at this and say, quite naturally: the horse is pulling, the man is being pulled. The man is pulled wherever the horse pulls him. That’s perfectly clear. So the horse is the cause of why the man is being pulled. The cause lies in the horse’s pulling; the fact that the man is being pulled is the effect. All right, but you all know that this isn’t actually the case—that the man sitting up there in the carriage steers the horse according to his will. Although the horse pulls him, it pulls him wherever he wants to go.

[ 24 ] This is very often the case when one judges purely by outward appearances based on events on the physical plane. Take once again the hypothetical example we cited a few days ago: A group sets out, gets into a carriage, but the coachman has missed the departure time. As a result, they arrive five minutes late. This causes them to arrive at the foot of a rocky slope just as it collapses, and the slope crushes the group. Now, if one traces the cause on the physical plane, one can of course say: this happened, and afterward that happened and the other thing happened—and in this way one will be able to piece something together. But in this case, one could indeed make the same mistake one makes when saying that the horse pulls the driver wherever it wants—if one fails to consider that the coachman is steering the horse according to his own will. One might make this mistake because the guiding force in this case might perhaps be found in the spiritual world. If one traces events solely on the physical plane, one really does judge in the following manner: that the person in question must go wherever the horse pulls him. But if one sees through the secret forces at work in the entire sequence of events, one realizes that the events have been steered toward that point, and that the coachman’s belated intervention was in fact part of the whole complex of circumstances. Everything is necessary, but not as necessary as one might believe when merely following the events on the physical plane.

[ 25 ] On the other hand, if one believes that the cause can be found by always taking the immediately preceding event as the cause, then the following could happen. Looking at it from the outside, one sees this: Two people meet. Now one proceeds as one must correctly do in the natural sciences. The two people have met. Now one studies where those two people were an hour before they met, where they were another hour before that, and how they set out to meet each other. Over a certain period of time, one can then trace how one person consistently drove the other, and how the two people were brought together. — Someone else pays no attention to these things; instead, he has happened to learn that the two people discussed five days ago that they would meet, and he says: Yes, they are meeting because they agreed that they would meet.

[ 26 ] Here you have the opportunity to see that the cause does not necessarily have to be found where the immediate preceding event is, and that if we break off our search for the thread of causation before reaching the corresponding correct link, we will not arrive at the corresponding correct link at all; for we can, after all, only trace the chain of causes up to a certain link. Even in nature, we can only trace it up to a certain link. This is especially true for phenomena in which human beings are intertwined; we can only trace them up to a certain link. But if we do so, and then proceed by always seeking the preceding cause and then the one before that, believing we will identify the cause, then we naturally fall prey to error and delusion.

[ 27 ] You simply need to apply to this what you have already been able to gain from Spiritual Science. Suppose a person performs some action on the physical plane. So we see him performing this action. Anyone who wishes to limit their observations to the physical plane alone will see how that person behaved beforehand. If they then go further, they will see how the person was raised. They may also, as is now fashionable, take heredity into account, and so on. But let us suppose that something has flowed into the action that took place here on the physical plane—something that can only be found in the life the person in question lived between their last death and their new birth. This means that we cut off the line of causes at birth and turn to a situation similar to that in the analogy of the prior arrangement. For what I am now doing may have been predetermined centuries ago in the life that elapsed between the last death and the present birth. And what was experienced there flows into what I am now doing and undertaking.

[ 28 ] Thus, the necessity arises that, in a certain way—without penetrating into the spiritual worlds—we cannot at all—that is, not at all here on the physical plane — that seeking causes may, under certain circumstances, be entirely misguided—seeking causes in the same sense as one does for external natural phenomena.

[ 29 ] Nevertheless, if one takes a closer look at the way in which human action is interwoven with world events, one will still be able to arrive at a certain satisfying perspective—even regarding what is called freedom—in contrast to the realization that one must acknowledge: necessity prevails. But what is called the search for causes is perhaps limited, at least initially, by the fact that on the physical plane one cannot penetrate at all into the realm where causation lies.

[ 30 ] But now there is something else to consider. Freedom and necessity are two concepts that are extraordinarily difficult to grasp and even more difficult to reconcile with one another. It is no coincidence that philosophical endeavors have, for the most part, failed precisely when addressing the question of freedom and necessity. This is largely because people have failed to bring the difficulties of these questions into sharp focus. That is why I am making such an effort in these lectures to bring precisely these difficulties to your attention.

[ 31 ] When we look at human affairs, we can first of all see the thread of necessity running through everything. For it, too, would be a prejudice to portray every single human action as a product of freedom. I will illustrate this once again with a hypothetical example. Let’s suppose someone is growing up. Because he is growing up in a certain way, one can demonstrate that all the conditions of his experience have taken shape precisely in that way. Now, let’s say he has become a mail carrier, a rural mail carrier who has to go out into the countryside every morning with the mail and deliver the letters. Then he goes back again. The next morning, he goes out again. I believe you will all admit that one can find a certain necessity in these processes. If one studies everything that took place during this person’s childhood, if one brings together all the events that have influenced his life, one will certainly see how all of this has come together to make him a rural mail carrier, and how, precisely because that one position was vacant, he was inevitably pushed into it. And that is where freedom probably ends, for he cannot, of course, change the addresses on the letters he receives. An external necessity dictates which front door he opens and which he closes again. So we can already see quite a bit of necessity in what he has to accomplish.

[ 32 ] But let’s now suppose another person, perhaps a younger one—younger than me, I assume, for the reason that I can now carry out what I have to do without you immediately leveling the bitterest reproaches at this younger person for his behavior. So, another, younger person—who is still so young that he isn’t automatically a slacker just because he does this—comes up with the idea of going along every morning and accompanying the rural mail carrier on his rounds. And he carries this out. He gets up on time every morning, joins the rural mail carrier, goes through all the individual steps with him, and then walks back again, doing this for a certain period of time. There is no doubt at all that we cannot speak of necessity in the same sense with regard to the latter as we do with regard to the former. For everything that happens through the first person must necessarily happen. Nothing that happens through the latter person actually has to happen. He could stay away every day, one might say, and exactly the same thing would happen within a certain objective context. It’s quite clear, isn’t it? So we can say: The first does everything out of necessity; the second does everything out of freedom. One can certainly say that, and yet, in a certain sense, they both do the same thing. Yes, one could even form the following mental image. One could say that this second person sees a morning approaching when he does not want to get up. He could, of course, refrain from doing so, but he does it anyway because he is used to it. He does what he does out of freedom with a certain necessity. We see freedom and necessity literally merging together.

[ 33 ] If one studies the way in which that second human being dwells within us—the one I spoke to you about in my public lecture—how the true soul within us dwells, which in its essence will pass through the gate of death, it is essentially not much different from comparing this true soul within us to a companion of the outer human being who walks through the physical world. Admittedly, for an ordinary materialistic monist, it is something quite abhorrent to say this. But such a materialistic monist, as we know, takes the position that he says: “You are utterly abhorrent dualists if you believe that water consists of hydrogen and oxygen. Everything must be unified. It is nonsense, after all, to say that the monon ‘water’ consists of hydrogen and oxygen!” — Well, yes, one just mustn’t be misled by this monism. What this is really about is that what we are in life truly comes together from two sides, and that what comes from these two sides can truly be compared to the way hydrogen and oxygen are present in water. For what constitutes our external physical nature flows on through the hereditary line, and it flows on not only with the physical characteristics in the hereditary line, but also with the way we are socially situated within that line. After all, we do not merely have a certain appearance—a certain nose, hair color, and so on—because our father and mother had that particular appearance; rather, we are predetermined by our ancestors’ life circumstances with regard to their external social standing and so on. So everything that belongs to the physical plane—not just the appearance of our physical body, our muscular strength, and the like, but everything about how we are situated, everything that belongs to the physical plane—all of that flows on through the hereditary line, flowing from one generation to the next.

[ 34 ] Added to this, from a second perspective, is that which comes from the spiritual world as our individual being—and which initially has nothing to do with all the forces present in the current of heredity and the succession of generations—that which comes from the spiritual world and which is spiritually united with causes that may have been predisposed within us centuries ago, spiritually united with the causes lying within the currents of heredity and the succession of generations. Two beings come together. And in fact, we can only judge the matter correctly if we truly regard this second being—which comes from the spiritual world and unites with the physical—as a kind of companion to the first. That is why I chose the example of the companion who goes along with everything. In the same way, our actual soul, in a certain sense, goes along with external events.

[ 35 ] The second man, who accompanied the rural mail carrier, did all of this of his own free will. There is no denying that he did it voluntarily. One could, of course, look for causes, but these causes lie in the realm of freedom, in contrast to the necessity into which the first mail carrier is placed. He did all of this of his own free will. But you see, one thing follows from this freedom—I would say, inevitably. You won’t deny that if the second person, who accompanied the first, did so for a certain period of time, he will undoubtedly have become a good mail carrier. He will be able to do just as well as the one he accompanied. And he will even be able to do it better, because he will avoid certain mistakes. But if the first one hadn’t made those mistakes, then he wouldn’t have learned from them. One cannot even imagine a situation in which it would be useful for the second person to now reflect on the first person’s mistakes. If one thinks with vitality, one will regard it as completely pointless brooding when the second person reflects on the first person’s mistakes and dwells on them. Precisely when he does not dwell on the mistakes, but actively participates in everything and simply observes the entire process, it will take root within him, and he will naturally avoid making those mistakes himself.

[ 36 ] But this is how it is with what lies within us and accompanies us. When this can rise to the realization that what we have done was necessary, that we have accompanied it, and that we now carry our soul into the future—having learned from it—then we view the matter in the right way. But it must have learned in a truly living way. One will even be able to correctly discern what is meant here within the course of an incarnation. One will be able to compare, let me say, three people. The first person acts without thinking. At a certain point in his life, he feels the urge to recognize himself. So he looks back at what he has always done well. He takes pleasure in what he has done well. Now he tries to keep doing what he has done well. After all, in a certain sense, he will do quite good things, won’t he?

[ 37 ] Another person, who is more prone to hypochondria, focuses more on his own faults. If he ever manages to rise above his hypochondria and his faults—if he can rise above them—he will come to avoid these faults. But he will not achieve what a third person might achieve—one who tells himself: What has happened was necessary, but at the same time it is the foundation for learning. But learning through reflection—not through idle criticism, but through reflection. — He will not now simply carry on in a lifeless way what has already happened—simply carry the past over into the future—but rather, he will have strengthened, fortified, and tempered that which served as his guide, and he will carry it vividly into the future. He will not repeat what was good about it, nor will he avoid what was bad about it; rather, through both the good and the bad—by having internalized them and by simply letting them stand as they are—he will have strengthened, fortified, and tempered them.

[ 38 ] This is the very best way to strengthen the soul: to let go of what has happened and carry it forward into the future in a living way. Otherwise, one always returns to the past in a Luciferic-Ahrimanic manner. Progress in development is only possible if one approaches what is necessary in the right way. Why? Is there such a thing as “the right way” in this area? To conclude, I would like to offer you a kind of analogy, which I ask you to carry within your soul until next Tuesday. We will then be able to build on this analogy to explore our question further.

[ 39 ] Imagine you want to see an external object. You can see it—this external object—but you cannot possibly see it if you place a mirror between yourself and the object. Instead, you see your own eye. If you want to see the object, you must forgo seeing your own eye, and if you want to see your own eye, you must forgo seeing the object. — Now, through a curious chain of connections among entities in the world, this is how it is with regard to human action and with regard to human cognition: everything we perceive, we perceive in a certain way through a mirror. Perception always means that we actually perceive, in a certain way, through a reflection.

[ 40 ] When we wish to look back on the actions we have performed in the past, we actually always view them in such a way that, in essence, there is a mirror between the actions themselves and ourselves. But if we want to act—if we want to have a direct relationship between ourselves and our actions, indeed between ourselves and the world—then we must not hold up a mirror. Then we must refrain from looking at what the mirror shows us of ourselves. This is how it is with regard to our past actions. The moment we look at them, we create a mental image of a mirror before them, and then we can certainly recognize them. We can now leave this mirror in place and recognize them with terrifying precision. This will certainly be very useful for certain purposes. But if we are unable to put the mirror away as well, then all this insight will be of no help to us, for the moment we put the mirror away, we no longer see our own selves; only then can it become part of us, only then can it become one with us.

[ 41 ] And this is how we must approach self-reflection. We must be clear that, as long as we look back, this looking back can only serve as the impetus to now take what we have seen and make it come alive within us. But in doing so, we must not keep looking at it, for otherwise the mirror will always be there. Our self-reflection is very similar to looking in a mirror. We can only move forward in life by incorporating into our will what we come to know through self-reflection.

[ 42 ] Please take a moment to reflect on this analogy—the one that holds that one can see one’s own eye only by renouncing the sight of another, and that if one wishes to see another, one must renounce the sight of one’s own eye. Please reflect on this analogy. Based on this analogy, let us then speak next Tuesday about true self-knowledge and false self-knowledge, and thus come closer and closer to resolving our questions. When it comes to this—I would say—most difficult question of humanity, the question of freedom and necessity and the interconnection of human actions and world events, it is essential that one keep all the difficulties in mind. And anyone who believes they can arrive at a solution to this question before they have fully grasped all the difficulties is, in fact, mistaken.