The Rudolf Steiner Archive

5. Karmic Effects

[ 1 ] What spiritual science has to say about life and the nature of the spiritual worlds is derived from an understanding of the objective facts to which the corresponding faculties can lead human beings. We are, of course, all familiar with this. Therefore, when it comes to justifying or defending spiritual science as such in the face of today’s environment, it can never be a matter of basing these defenses on anything other than pointing out how human beings, through the development of certain faculties, gain insight into the spiritual worlds, and then explaining how a corresponding structure of the living conditions in the spiritual worlds arises for these faculties. In the face of the facts that come to light in this way—some of which are almost self-evident, though it is good to point them out—no objection can ever be raised from the perspective of human desires or human cravings, just as is the case with the facts of the physical world observed through the senses. Although this is self-evident, one often hears objections to certain statements of spiritual science that stem precisely from human wishes and human desires, such as when it is said: “If spiritual science has this or that to say about the spiritual worlds, then I do not wish to become acquainted with this spiritual science, for if things were like that in these spiritual worlds, I could never come to terms with such a conception of the spiritual worlds.” — As absurd as such an objection is, fundamentally speaking, it does occur. But it does not occur only in this easily transparent, absurd form; rather, it appears—I would say—masked in all manner of dismissive attitudes adopted toward spiritual science. So even if no insight from spiritual science could ever be based on the assumption that the world has meaning only if the spiritual world were like this or that — after all, one can know what the spiritual world is really like —; in other words, since one can never say anything about the nature of spiritual worlds based on such assumptions, but only on the basis of genuine knowledge, it can nevertheless be pointed out, conversely, what spiritual science—once its findings are established—can mean for human life.

[ 2 ] Fourteen days ago, I demonstrated here, in a certain context, what an attitude rooted in spiritual science means—especially in our age—in light of the great demands of our time for the development of humanity. Today I would like to draw attention to a few other points that will delve more deeply into what spiritual science can be for humanity—and especially for people of the present day—who will explore these matters in greater depth. And on the other hand, precisely to provide a kind of counterpoint, I would like to point out the kinds of resistance that spiritual science may encounter from today’s spiritual culture and the kinds of resistance against which one must be prepared. The spiritual faculties that lead the spiritual researcher to look into the realities of the spiritual world develop gradually in the manner often described, and they develop in such a way that one first becomes acquainted with the great facts of spiritual life—that is, the main aspects concerning the development of earthly life, repeated earthly lives, the life between death and a new birth, and so on. But then it becomes entirely possible not only to speak of these general, overarching perspectives—these truths that are generally correct—but also to speak of certain specific truths. And as we become increasingly familiar with such specific truths, spiritual science also gains ever greater significance for the individual, concrete human life. After all, this human life must initially be a mystery to the outer observer in the physical body; for if this human life were not a mystery, human beings would not undergo a process of development that makes them ever more capable; for our abilities—which arise particularly in relation to the soul—must emerge from the challenges we overcome; they must grow out of these challenges; and in the spiritual realm, they must grow within us through the fact that the world first presents itself to us as a mystery, and through the effort we expend in solving that mystery. As we devote our minds to solving these mysteries, our powers are strengthened; we become more and more capable; and we truly become more and more perfect within the course of human evolution. No one need worry that life might lose its interest if, by looking into the spiritual world, a person partially solves the mysteries presented in the physical world, for mysteries of life arise in all areas. And upon entering the spiritual world, one already encounters new mysteries of life. But it is precisely from the experiences gained by solving certain human and life mysteries from the spiritual world’s perspective in relation to the physical world that one gains confidence and experience—the confidence that even the deeper mysteries of humanity and the world, which reveal themselves only within the spiritual world itself, will also be solved.

[ 3 ] In particular, what a person experiences as fate between birth and death is indeed a mystery. A great deal—a very great deal—is contained within this word. Yesterday, in our public lecture, we were able to hint at how the question of destiny is, in a certain sense, resolved through repeated earthly lives. These are general points of view. But one can also point to specific circumstances. Let us suppose, for example, that someone loses a dear relative during their lifetime. The relative, let us say, dies relatively early, so that the one left behind still has a long earthly life to live without this relative. As we give such a thought free rein within ourselves, we immediately see something appear before our inner eye that must be a question of destiny for many people. The point is that spiritual science can truly shed light on such a question of destiny. Certainly, every case is fundamentally different. But precisely by studying individual cases from a spiritual scientific perspective, a certain insight into the mysterious course of human life emerges. One can, for example, make the following observation: A person has died in earlier years, torn away from their loved ones. Well, I said yesterday: As people enter into relationships with one another here through their physical bodies, relationships develop between them that are far more comprehensive than what can be lived out through the physical bodies. A much broader circle of interconnectedness develops when two people live together for ten, twenty, thirty, or forty years—a much broader circle of forces between them than can be lived out within the physical world during those years. When one applies a spiritual-scientific perspective to such relationships, one often sees that what is formed there is of such a nature that, by its very essence, it demands a continuation—a continuation that arises from the loss experienced both by the part remaining here in the physical world and by the part that has passed through the gate of death into the other, the spiritual world. The one who has remained behind must bear this loss. To put it in abstract terms, they have lost a dear human being from their physical sphere of vision at a time when they did not expect to lose them. Perhaps hopes for a future life together here in the physical world have been shattered as a result; the foundations for life have been cut off. These all belong to life’s experiences, but they also all form part of what, so to speak, is added to the experiences one shared with one another while in physical bodies. The fact that grief and pain follow on from what one experienced together in physical bodies has a transformative effect on the relationships that could only have been forged while in physical bodies. For just as what we experience with one another daily—when we face one another in physical bodies—now flows into the karmic line, into the ongoing stream of development, so too does what one experiences under the impression of loss add to what one experiences on a daily basis. All the sensations, all the feelings experienced in that moment are added to the experiences one has had during life in the physical body. This is seen from the perspective of the one who remains behind in the physical world.

[ 4 ] The perspective of the one who has passed into the spiritual world is somewhat different. The one who has passed into the spiritual world is therefore no less united with the one they have left behind. Indeed, anyone who is truly able to examine the spiritual worlds for such specific cases will realize that, from the perspective of the one who is on the other side, the conscious communion with souls who have remained here is more intense and more intimate than it could ever have been while in the physical body. But one very often notices that this now more intimate relationship is necessary to properly complement the circle of interrelationships that has formed here in the physical world. Indeed, upon genuine, positive investigation, one often makes the following discovery: One sees that people have come together here in physical life; as a result, a certain circle of shared interests has formed beneath the threshold of consciousness. Had these people remained together here in the physical world for a longer time, the relationship that had arisen on the basis of karma from earlier lives would not have been able to deepen sufficiently through the circumstances of this life. The one who has passed through the gate of death can often, during the time when souls who were close to him are still on Earth, by being united in thought with these souls—penetrating and flowing through their thoughts—bring about that necessary deepening required by karma, which he could not have achieved through the circumstances that life would otherwise have brought, had he not passed through the gate of death. Thus, a true fulfillment of karma often involves, on the one hand, enduring the pain here and, on the other hand, a more intense communion with the thoughts of those left behind here.

[ 5 ] And another point becomes apparent when one, so to speak, follows the one who came later—the one who passed through the gate of death later—in the relationship he now enters into with the one who died earlier. There one notices that many things take a different course, depending on the time difference between the two deceased. It is not the same whether, when we enter the spiritual world, we find there a person who died at the same time as we did—to take this extreme case—or who died fifteen years earlier. Because the person in question has spent a certain amount of time in the spiritual world, and because the experiences they have undergone there are now present in their soul—which we encounter—they affect us in a different way; and through this, the karmic bond is formed in a corresponding manner, a bond that could not be formed in the same way under different circumstances. We must regard everything we experience in this way with those closest to us as being firmly rooted in karmic relationships. And even though I have said this many times before—knowing how everything that happens is interconnected and how everything that happens interacts cannot alleviate grief and pain—it must still be said that, from a certain point of view, life only acquires its true meaning when viewed in this way. For the point is that, in a human life—which we live between death and birth—we must unfold all the circumstances into which we are placed in such a way that not only does this one life come into its own, but also, in a sense, all the contributions we are to make through our subsequent earthly lives for the sake of this earthly evolution come into their own. That which is set in motion by the painful loss of a relative, a friend, or someone else close to us manifests its continuing effect in the next earthly life. And in a certain sense, all these effects are already contained within their causes. No loss occurs in human life that is not correctly placed within the sequence of earthly lives in an appropriate manner. This may not bring us relief from pain in the specific instance, but it will enable us to gain an understanding of life from this perspective.

[ 6 ] By discussing such matters, we can learn a great deal precisely by examining specific cases. Another specific case I would like to mention is the one that arises when a person’s life is cut short by an accident. One might assume from the outset that there is a great difference between a life that ends when a person is struck by a train or otherwise meets a violent death caused by external forces, and a life that comes to an end in old age or due to illness. One might further assume that there must be a difference between a life cut short by illness and a life that ends in old age.

[ 7 ] Of course, every detail is different in these cases as well, but one can still gain certain insights from them. Above all, we ask ourselves: What is a ‘violent death’? This question can only be answered if one views death not from here—from the perspective of physical life on Earth—but from the other side, from the perspective of one who has passed through the gate of death. I have mentioned in lectures—which have already been published—that when viewed from the other side, from the world into which the deceased enters through the gate of death, death is the most significant event that reveals to the disembodied, deceased person how life triumphs forever. The direct vision of death from the other side—which is a sublime, magnificent sight that remains forever—also signifies that within us, between death and a new birth, there is a firm sense of self. Just as our memory—which takes us back to a certain point in our physical life—gives us a sense of self here, so too does the sight of death from the other, spiritual side give us a sense of self between death and a new birth.

[ 8 ] Well, what is it like when the experience of this death is brought about in such a way that a violent end to life has caused death? A violent end to life is, viewed from the other side, an experience, a perception of the most far-reaching kind, and as strange as it may sound, when one examines these things, the following becomes apparent: The temporal conditions, in their effect on the soul’s experiences, are quite different in the spiritual worlds we enter through the gate of death than they are here, although some conditions here already remind us of what occurs in a much more comprehensive way over there, between death and a new birth.

[ 9 ] If I am to explain what is now at stake, I would like to use an analogy that only becomes apparent once one is familiar with the relevant facts from the spiritual world. You may know that here in physical life we can often have experiences in a short time—perhaps in the course of a day or a few hours—that mean far more to us than experiences over a long period of time, spanning months or perhaps years, could otherwise mean. How many of you will recall from your own lives an important event that you went through in a very short time here in the physical world, one that brought you more in terms of inner experience than months or years otherwise would. People often express this by saying: “What I experienced there, I will never forget.” — Behind this simple saying very often lies precisely what I have just described. Now it is truly the case that the impression a person receives when an external world—a world that does not belong to them—takes away their physical body in a relatively very short time, it can even be a single moment—condenses into the life between death and a new birth an experience that can be as rich as what we gain in our slow earthly life, which we might otherwise have had to go through over the course of decades. I do not mean everything we have experienced in earthly life; but certain things that are necessary for us in terms of strength for the life between death and a new birth—for these, it is indeed the case that what is otherwise spread out over a longer period of time can be condensed, one might say, into a single moment. It is simply a completely different experience whether one, so to speak, sees death approaching through the subconscious—either because inner forces are at work that bring about death from within the organism, or because forces are acting upon this organism that have nothing at all to do with the organism itself. Such a death, in turn, finds its true and genuine explanation only when we view it in the context of the entire course of human life through repeated earthly lives; for you can very easily deduce from what I have said about the connection between ego-consciousness after death and the experience of death that the perception of death itself is something very significant for the strength and intensity of the ego-consciousness we experience between death and a new birth.

[ 10 ] Circumstances that, viewed from here—from the perspective of physical life—appear to be a coincidence are by no means a coincidence, but are contained within a world of necessity. From this perspective, it may seem like a coincidence that someone is struck by a train; but viewed from the other side—from the spiritual side—it does not appear to be a coincidence. If one were to ask—if I may put it this way, although this can of course only be in a comparative sense—from this other perspective, the spiritual perspective: How does such a violent death fit into the totality of human earthly lives? — then one will always find that, over the past periods of time that the human being has undergone through repeated earthly lives and intermediate lives between death and rebirth up to the point of the accident, he has, through various circumstances, developed a sense of self for the purely spiritual world that required strengthening and fortification. And this strengthening occurs because the physical life of the human being is brought to a close not from within, but from without. And we must reckon with the fact that our relationship to the external world is not solely determined by the connections brought about by our ideal forces within the soul; we can know—only in the rarest of cases, but usually not at all—how our subconscious thinks. I have often drawn your attention to the fact that the life of thought does not end at the threshold of consciousness, but that human beings continually lead a life of thought in the subconscious—or, one might also say, the superconscious. Yet human beings cannot even begin to conceive of what this more comprehensive consciousness might mean for them. One could ask each individual: Why hasn’t this or that accident befallen you since this morning? — For each individual, there would have been a possibility that this or that accident could have affected them. Sometimes one gets a sense—I would say almost a premonition—of how things stand; but only in the rarest of cases does one see the connections. Sometimes one feels a certain reluctance to do this or that. For example, one sets out to do something half an hour later, and afterward one notices something that happened along the way—something that could have happened to oneself had one set out half an hour earlier. That is where the subconscious has been at work; that is where the subconscious caused one to hesitate. Such effects of the subconscious are constantly at work; they are simply imperceptible to us.

[ 11 ] For those who are able to observe the conditions of the world from a spiritual perspective, it is perfectly clear that a person facing a misfortune is not protected by the good spirit working in his subconscious, but rather faces that misfortune because he is driven toward it by a necessity of his karma. For if this misfortune were not to occur, then precisely what I have described—the necessary strengthening of his sense of self in the manner indicated—could not take place. Through birth, a person enters into a particular earthly life and into the circumstances into which they have been placed. They enter into it, but in such a way that they have observed within themselves, in the previous life between death and a new birth, that their “I” is, in a certain sense, weak in strength. This impulse to strengthen their “I” lives within them and leads them into the circumstances that bring about their misfortune. This is how the matter must be viewed; in these things you can see that life takes on a sense of coherence when viewed from this perspective of spiritual scientific knowledge.

[ 11 ] For those who are able to observe the conditions of the world from a spiritual perspective, it is perfectly clear that a person facing a misfortune is not protected by the good spirit working in his subconscious, but rather faces that misfortune because he is driven toward it by a necessity of his karma. For if this misfortune were not to occur, then precisely what I have described—the necessary strengthening of his sense of self in the manner indicated—could not take place. Through birth, a person enters into a particular earthly life and into the circumstances into which they have been placed. They enter into it, but in such a way that they have observed within themselves, in the previous life between death and a new birth, that their “I” is, in a certain sense, weak in strength. This impulse to strengthen their “I” lives within them and leads them into the circumstances that bring about their misfortune. This is how the matter must be viewed; in these things you can see that life takes on a sense of coherence when viewed from this perspective of spiritual scientific knowledge.

[ 13 ] Let us also substantiate this assertion with certain concrete facts. Today, there is only a small handful of people who, in the course of their lives between birth and death, take spiritual science into their souls. I am not speaking of spiritual research, but of spiritual science: concepts and ideas provided by spiritual science. Through this, a person learns something about the spiritual world in this life, between birth and death. This is not without significance for the life a person enters once they have passed through the gate of death. And again, the fact to which I now wish to draw attention has only come into being in our time. If we go back to earlier times, we still find an ancient heritage of humanity regarding the connection with the spiritual world. A person passed through the gate of death, and because they had a certain connection to the spiritual world here through premonitions, atavistic clairvoyance, and the like, there was a common thread between life here in the physical body and the life they enter upon passing through the gate of death. The fact that human beings here instinctively knew something of the spiritual world—in my view—meant that on the other side, beyond the gate of death, they possessed more than a mere sum of thoughts that are memories of their earthly life. For this is the peculiar phenomenon that will occur more and more frequently in human souls from the present onward: that these human souls will pass through the gate of death and remain connected to the earth only through memories. We remember, so to speak, our earthly life here, and because we retain this earthly life in memory after death, we remain connected to it. This is the case in the strictest, most radical sense for people of the present day who are unable to take in any concepts of the spiritual world derived from spiritual science. If they do take in such concepts, these concepts form, after their death, something that enables them not only to have memories of their life but also to look into this earthly life. The ideas we take in before our death become abilities after our death. In a sense, windows open after death from the spiritual world into the physical world, onto everything that is here in the physical world, through the fact that we acquire ideas about the spiritual world here. We thus carry certain insights through the gateway of death from this spiritual science.

[ 14 ] Thus, what we gain from spiritual science is not merely a body of dead knowledge, but a source of life—something that lives on as we pass through the gate of death. Indeed, in the sense I have often mentioned, spiritual science is already a powerful source of life precisely because the deceased lives consciously within our thoughts of their own accord; and it is precisely because we are immersed in spiritual science that we can do something for the deceased. This is what I have often referred to when speaking about reading aloud. The deceased is in our thoughts; they look upon our thoughts. If these thoughts are such as we hold when we engage in a spiritual scientific train of thought—that is, if we read to the deceased in our thoughts or recount to them something we know or think about the spiritual worlds—then the deceased is with these thoughts that we direct toward them here through spiritual science. And the fact that we direct them toward him creates the bond of attraction between here and there. So, in a sense, because spiritual science is something living, we can send up a living force that can provide living nourishment to the deceased, who is with us.

[ 15 ] Thus we see that, in this spiritual way, spiritual science truly overcomes death by entering into life. A connection—one that otherwise cannot be established in such an intense way between the living and the dead in our present age—is created when we fill ourselves here with thoughts drawn from spiritual science and, with the deceased in mind, offer them to the deceased, as it were. Spiritual science is indeed something that intervenes vividly in life, whereas the knowledge acquired through ordinary science about the physical world consists only of thoughts that are meaningful solely for the time between birth and death; for life after death, however, they represent merely a memory, not a living influence that extends beyond. This difference must certainly be taken into account.

[ 16 ] But now there is one more thing that must be taken into account, especially when considering the significance of spiritual science for the present and future development of the human spirit. Not only does what we acquire here through spiritual science—or what we bestow upon the dead—pave the way from the physical world up into the spiritual world, but what we carry through the gate of death in the form of insights gained from spiritual science also exerts a reciprocal influence from the spiritual world back onto the earthly world. And this earthly world—we must not lose sight of this—is gradually being impoverished by forces that can arise from the Earth itself and that human beings on Earth develop solely through life between birth and death. If no other forces were to flow down from the spiritual world to the Earth than those that have flowed down so far, earthly life would become impoverished. Even today, it is disheartening to see how people go through life thoughtlessly, oblivious to the fact that earthly life is gradually becoming impoverished.

[ 17 ] Incidentally, this is a phenomenon—as I have already emphasized in some places—that holds true not only for people’s spiritual and cultural life, but even for the most physical, dense aspects of earthly life. Read the beautiful geological book The Face of the Earth by Eduard Sueß, and you will find it explained there how the Earth used to be quite different in terms of its physical surface than it is now, how, in a sense, the Earth’s surface has died within itself, and how the forces present in the ordinary physical surface of the Earth today are no longer the same as they were in earlier periods. The Earth’s surface is crumbling. What takes place in physical life, however, also takes place in spiritual life. And, as I said, it often seems disheartening to see how people observe this without being aware of it. As for spiritual life, when describing the path humanity is taking, one must say: Despite the arrogance that pervades our time, it turns out that people’s thoughts are becoming ever more lifeless, ever more dead, and even ever more disjointed. People are, of course, proud of their current way of thinking. And how highly does this or that high school teacher often regard himself as rising above Plato when he explains Plato to his students! The witty poet Hebbel did, however, write in his diary that he wanted to write a play—which, admittedly, was never staged—whose hero was to be Plato reincarnated, punished by his high school teacher because, while reading Plato, he could not understand Plato at all. Human beings would, in a sense, be heading toward a discontinuity in their system of thought were it not for the renewal of that system brought about by the ideas born of spiritual scientific insight. As strange as this may sound today, it is true: the intense power that human beings need to grasp thoughts correctly—so that they have value in reality—is waning because human beings are supposed to become independent and acquire their own powers. That is why, I might say in a sense, the gods and spirits who once inspired the coherence of thought are withdrawing, and human beings must independently restore vitality to their thoughts. But they will only succeed in doing so if they are not too arrogant to receive within themselves that life which can flow from spiritual science.

[ 18 ] And just as it is with thoughts, so it is with feelings, and so it is with impulses of the will. These impulses of the will within humanity will become more and more self-willed. One can quite literally use this phrase—to become more and more isolated from the common humanity—unless those great, all-encompassing impulses of the soul are instilled, impulses that can arise only from the contemplation of the spiritual interconnection of physical things. I am speaking here of grave truths concerning the development of humanity’s future; but these truths must permeate the mind of anyone who engages in spiritual science. For spiritual science is not meant to be merely a body of dead knowledge that satisfies our curiosity; rather, spiritual science is meant to be something that seeks to intervene in the interrelationship of the things toward which humanity is moving in the future. To achieve this, however, one must recognize which systems of forces are waning and must be replaced by others. I said: Human forces on Earth would wane if no influx came from the spiritual worlds. And what we gain from spiritual scientific knowledge and carry through the gate of death gives us, between death and a new birth, not only the strength to shape our lives during that time, but also the strength to bring spiritual forces down to Earth. And this will have to happen more and more, so that those people who live here on Earth receive what comes down from spiritually imbued souls who have passed through the gate of death—and what they have taken with them from here, transformed by their entry into the spiritual worlds, they in turn send back.

[ 19 ] One way, then, is to work from the physical world into the spiritual world—that is, to work on behalf of the dead—by reading to them and directing thoughts from spiritual science toward them; another way is to contribute to the physical enrichment of Earth’s evolution by bringing down from the spiritual world that which one has carried through the gate of death and acquired during one’s stay in the physical world. For it is a peculiar fact that the physical world can receive that which has taken on a transformed form because it was carried through the gate of death as spiritual wealth acquired in physical life, underwent a metamorphosis in the spiritual world, and then flows back down as the result of that metamorphosis.

[ 20 ] For ourselves, we work on our karma so that this karma is fulfilled in our repeated earthly lives, always between birth and death; but we also work on the collective karma of humanity—which consists of the stream of life flowing out from here on Earth and the stream of life flowing in from the spiritual world—using the forces we develop between death and a new birth that go beyond our own needs. We see, then, how necessary spiritual science is, and how necessary it is that it be assimilated by human souls—not only for the benefit of these individual human souls, but also for the benefit of the progress of all humanity on Earth. From the spiritual world, we work on our future earthly lives—as I said yesterday in my public lecture—by immersing ourselves in the hereditary relationships spanning the generations prior to our birth. But we also take part in what concerns not only us in a future earthly life, but all of humanity. The thoughts I am expressing here are ones that one should allow to permeate one’s being in a very special way; I would say: ones that one should meditate upon; for they are thoughts that place one in a living spiritual and soul connection with the surrounding world.

[ 21 ] And as a counterpoint, I would now like to show you how the world today still judges what is currently being revealed by spiritual science, and how the world is currently adopting a standpoint that is bound to bring about what I have characterized as a sort of “drying up” of thought—a discontinuity and loss of coherence in thought. Correspondingly, different phenomena would be evident in other fields. It is precisely those who today often have the final say on this or that matter—those who, through their haughty rejection of any connection to the spiritual world as conveyed by spiritual science, are directly working toward this bleak situation that we can already see approaching today, particularly with regard to the world of thought. Let me give an example.

[ 22 ] Here we have yet another popular anthology; so many popular collections are being published today in which humanity can learn about all the wisdom brought to light by those who say, “It is a great delight to immerse oneself in the spirit of the times,” and so on, and how we have “ultimately come so wonderfully far”: There are, after all, many means for this today. I would like to draw your attention to a small volume in this series on contemporary religious questions. These religious questions are treated in a very peculiar way there. First, drawing on all the haughtily claimed wisdom of the present, it is shown how a person cannot be satisfied if they merely place themselves within the realm of what natural science investigates—that is, if they have only a naturalistic worldview; then it goes on to show how a person cannot consider themselves satisfied if they have merely a moral worldview, before ascending to what the author of this little book calls his religious worldview. It is precisely this moral worldview—which is based on moral demands—that this religious scholar criticizes in a very sharp manner. He says: The pessimism into which our own time also frequently falls is not something unfounded, but rather arises from a vivid sense of the tragedy of life, which, incidentally, has been felt throughout the ages. — And this man of religion draws attention to how the pessimism of knowledge has asserted itself in various eras. Through his thoughts, man believes he has come to the conclusion that nothing can be known, that, fundamentally speaking, the quest for knowledge can never be satisfied. As an example, he cites indeed important authorities whose words are well worth heeding—for instance, Pliny the Elder, the greatest Roman naturalist, who says: “Man is a being full of contradictions, the most wretched of all creatures, insofar as the other creatures have no needs that go beyond the limits of nature. But man is full of desires and needs that extend into infinity and can never be satisfied. His nature is a lie—the greatest wretchedness combined with the greatest arrogance. In the face of such great evils, the best thing God has bestowed upon man is that he can take his own life.”

[ 23 ] Many, many such sayings can be cited. Seneca, the wise Seneca, says, for example: “Many educated people are tired of always seeing and doing the same things; they do not exactly hate life, but they feel that disgust with it which, under the influence of philosophy, is becoming increasingly widespread. They say: How much longer must it always be the same? This unbearable predictability of getting up and going to bed, of being full and growing hungry, of getting cold and then warm again. Nothing comes to an end; rather, everything is caught up in an endless cycle. Everything is both fugitive and pursuer. The day pursues the night, the night the day. Summer flows into autumn, autumn must give way to winter, and even winter’s power is broken. Everything passes away only to return. “I see nothing new, I do nothing new of which I do not grow weary.”

[ 24 ] So says the wise Roman philosopher Seneca. Our religious scholar believes that there is certainly some truth in this; but he is not particularly interested in it. He then draws attention to the kind of pessimism that arises when people surrender themselves more to their feelings. This, he believes, is how the pessimism of Buddhism arises, for example: “Life is suffering”; one looks at life and considers the sum of suffering and pain, of evils, on the one hand, and the sum of joys and happiness on the other. The former is greater, and thus one becomes a pessimist. One regards life in general as an evil. Schopenhauer and Eduard von Hartmann, for instance, did just that. Again, our religious thinker finds that people have good reason for this; but that, too, does not interest him further. He is more interested in ethically grounded pessimism, for of this he says: It is entirely justified if one looks at life without knowing it to be permeated by what he calls the “Kingdom of God,” by what he calls the content of religious confession. And here our religious scholar observes two things. The first is that human beings assert the demand—whether in the Kantian or Schleiermacherian sense—to be obligated to follow a moral law, a law that imposes strict obligations. But on the other hand, human beings are subject to their nature, their instincts, inclinations, and desires. And now our religious thinker observes: Human beings can never completely overcome these instincts and desires; yet they are supposed to follow the moral law, which imposes its strict commands. This inevitably leads to a conflict. This conflict must exist in life, and it does. This is justified pessimism. — One must view life pessimistically if one views it solely from the standpoint of moral demands. This is life viewed from the standpoint of moral demands: how human beings are caught between these moral demands and their natural life. But even when one considers individual moral duties, one realizes how this pessimism is justified. For, says this religious scholar, human beings often feel placed in moral conflicts, particularly in decisive life situations, and our scholar cites such moral conflicts as examples involving important figures.

[ 25 ] Let me read just one example: “A man like Luther,” says our religious scholar, “who recognized his calling like no other and saw clearly before his eyes the path he had to take to reform the Church and humanity, found himself in this dilemma” — by “dilemma” he means precisely the conflict between duties — “at the very moment when he was faced with the question of whether he should approve or reject the double marriage of Philip the Magnanimous. You see, that was the most difficult of all conflicts for him. If he rejected this marriage, acting in the pure interest of human dignity, then he would have to give up one of his most important achievements on the path to fulfilling his reformatory calling”; for if he had not approved the bigamous marriage, the magnanimous ruler would not have continued to support him; the Reformation, this religious scholar argues, would have come to nothing—“but if he permitted the marriage and thereby kept this one path open to himself, he would have had to tell himself that a thorn would pierce his soul here, one he would always feel. This is a grave dilemma, and no one is a true historian who lacks understanding for such struggles but instead passes moralistic judgment.” Such struggles, however, where duties collide, are something a person cannot avoid, especially when it comes to the important matters of life, our religious scholar believes. This justifies the legitimate pessimism. So one must say: For our religious scholar, when viewed in this way—from the standpoint of both nature and morality—the world presents itself in such a way that pessimism is fully justified.

[ 26 ] Now, in his own way, our religious man turns to religion. And there he says that he must take such a turn toward religion that all false paths that might be taken are avoided. Buddhism, he says, sought to avoid the conflicts of life by seeking to overcome existence itself—to overcome both physical and spiritual existence—and to eliminate it, as our religious scholar believes, into the formless Nirvana. Plato, he says, sought to eliminate life’s conflicts by completely overcoming matter through knowledge, so that humanity might rise above it and cast matter aside; Buddhism seeks to eliminate all existence, while the Platonist seeks to eliminate matter. The mystic—and our religious scholar naturally counts as mysticism everything in the world, apart from what enters his own mind, that still asserts itself as an aspiration to enter the spiritual world—the mystic denies individuality. Thus: the Buddhist rejects existence; the Platonist rejects matter; the mystic rejects individuality. For our religious scholar holds the view that the mystic attempts to save himself from sensuality, thereby attaining ecstasy, renouncing his individuality, and merging into the universe.

[ 27 ] None of these are viable paths for our clergyman. Instead, he turns to the path that he naturally regards as the only Christian one. And there he says: One must turn away from the earth toward the Kingdom of God. What follows is a sort of description of this Kingdom of God. This description of the Kingdom of God by the clergyman is, for anyone who—I make no other demands—is merely capable of logical thinking, who has not yet fallen prey to what I have called the discontinuity, the incoherence of the system of thought—is nothing short of a deep pain caused by the lack of substance, the absurdity, and the lack of logical coherence found in this description of the Kingdom of God. Since this man, like so many people today, has dismissed everything “mystical”—everything he counts as mystical—he finds a way to, so to speak—forgive the trivial expression—shove the words right into people’s mouths; for today one receives the greatest applause when one speaks at length about things that people do not need to understand. Everything else is nonsense, one can tell people; and they then listen as one “proves” to them that it is nonsense and that they need not concern themselves with it. In the end, even if one is completely thoughtless about it, one says: “True, genuine existence is love”—and then one spouts a lot of nonsense that, while lacking any substance, repeatedly uses the word “love, love, love” in such a way that, as a result, no love truly comes into the world.

[ 28 ] This is roughly how a modern religious figure speaks. Many speak this way. And then our religious figure soars to all sorts of insights—grand insights—such as this one: Since love is the highest good, God is love. — Well, within certain limits, first of all, that’s hardly new, and second, one can agree with it. But the idea that it must be a being that loves—and that, because it loves so strongly, can be called “love”—is not exactly something that causes our religious figure any distress. Yet now he wants to represent true Christianity. “God is love” initially means something very impersonal, for love as such is certainly impersonal. But that doesn’t pose any particular difficulty for our religious scholar, for he says: “The center of this reality is precisely God. ‘God is Spirit’ and ‘God is love’… In reality, Spirit and love are one.” In reality, one can explain everything as one if one proceeds in this way in one’s thoughts! “For love is the highest form of spiritual life.”

[ 29 ] Now I ask you: In reality, spirit and love are one; but at the same time, love is the highest form of spiritual life. Spirit and love are one; but love is, in turn, the highest form of spirit—that is, once again a part—and the part is equal to the whole! There you have the most appalling lack of coherence in thinking! Now, everything hinges on the fact that he proceeds from the premise that God is love. That is why he must also say: “When there is talk of God’s wrath and His punishments, all of this must ultimately be understood as an expression of His love.”

[ 30 ] Now we still have the option of understanding God as love, for God’s wrath, when it is truly expressed, is also love. God is Spirit; God alone is love; Spirit and love are one. Wrath is also love; therefore, wrath must actually be Spirit as well. — So we see that the concepts are all jumbled up in this disjointed line of thought. But the man must remain a Christian; therefore, he must continue writing in his own way: “That is why God can be nothing other than love, for He must be the highest form of Spirit. This is an unsurpassable wisdom that opens up here; even the highest philosophy cannot go beyond it. Absolute freedom, the resolution of every conflict, the spirit’s return to itself—love—is God. That is why God is a person.”

[ 31 ] In other words: God is love; this love is the Spirit’s return to itself; therefore, God is a person!

[ 32 ] “It has often been challenged, both philosophically and religiously, when God is endowed with the ‘attribute’ of personality; for the concept of personality originates in the earthly realm and, when applied to God, implies anthropomorphism. But this is a major misunderstanding.”

[ 33 ] And so on. You can see what people are capable of when they have completely succumbed to what might be called a lack of coherence in their thoughts; for this will become widespread if, in their arrogance, people resist the revitalization of the world of thought through the acceptance of spiritual science.

[ 34 ] Another beautiful sentence is the one I would still like to quote to you. To ensure that the listeners of this religious figure fully understood that they needed nothing but his lectures—and certainly not anything that, like a science, purports to shed light on spiritual life—he tells them: “It is therefore foolish and senseless to expect science to provide an answer to the question of life after death. The agitated people who have done this—and continue to do so—have never realized what becomes of science when it ventures into such questions, and what religion stands to lose when it borrows certainty from science.”

[ 35 ] This man accomplishes what I have demonstrated to you. And at the same time, this man is capable of telling people: “This is such high philosophy that he would be doing himself a disservice if he were to admit that science also has something to say about spiritual life.”

[ 36 ] This is a beginning to all that is yet to come—just a beginning. And we must face this just as we must face what was said here fourteen days ago. But the man I am speaking of—this man “can think.” He has accused the Buddha of wanting to help people escape from existence; he has accused Plato of wanting to help people escape from matter; he has accused mysticism of seeking to free people from individuality, for this would destroy the personality; it would lift the human being out of his physical body, in which, as our religious man believes, he must remain between birth and death. These religions of salvation cannot be accepted. But what effect does the Christian religion, as he conceives it, have when it cultivates true love—namely, what he calls love? There we read the words: “In other words: in the spiritual sphere of life of the Kingdom of God, moral will and action are freed from the consciousness that, within the empirical realm of life, corrupts the freedom inherent even in our best actions.”

[ 37 ] So, Plato wants to free people from matter, the Buddha from existence, mysticism from individuality, and our religious man wants to free people through love from the awareness that, without conscious awareness, they can immerse themselves in the Kingdom of God. Admittedly, it does suit such people to some extent when people say, “The Lord gives to His own in their sleep.” That is something that might perhaps appear to this religious man as a revelation. One can see that the man is capable of reflecting on life and drawing lessons from it. But that he suffers from disjointed thinking can be demonstrated by reading painful sentences like these. He objects to the idea that one becomes a mystic because one wants to overcome individuality, whereas one must, within physical life, be fully immersed in nature. We must not misunderstand the limitations of life: “Within earthly life, they cannot and must not be shaken off.”

[ 38 ] This is what a person of sound mind might say; that is how far incoherent thinking has gone: “Within earthly life, they cannot and must not be shaken off.” “Within earthly life, they cannot and must not be shaken off”—that means nothing other than: You cannot fly up to the moon, and you must not fly up to the moon!—That is how “can” and “must” are combined here! It is in such details that one must recognize the utter corruption of such thinking.

[ 39 ] Or, speaking of the inner life, the man says: He wants to limit the Christian life solely to what he calls the Kingdom of God. Nature is not to be understood in a spiritual sense, for human beings are placed within nature—they do not know how—and they are to remain in that state: not knowing how they are placed within nature. That is why he says: “For Jesus, this is the Kingdom of God, once all symbols and images are stripped away.”

[ 40 ] What Jesus said about the Kingdom of God through meaningful symbols and images is repugnant to the religious person; he dismisses it. “It is this highest realm that Jesus places above the moral world order. It is this realm of which he speaks ceaselessly; here, people can enter without giving up their relationship to the natural order, yet without relinquishing their belonging to the moral world. Here, everything is transfigured; here, the conflict that has arisen between the natural world and the moral world comes to an end. It is resolved through love. Man’s relationship to nature is a necessity that he cannot change; no moral resolution can help here; man must enter the realm of nature through birth—no one is asked whether they want to be born.”

[ 41 ] This is how a man of religion helps people understand the world. And then he goes on to say: “He”—the human being—“is born into the fate of this phenomenal world by virtue of a mechanical necessity, by virtue of a supreme decree that he does not understand.”

[ 42 ] That is Christianity! Human beings are born into the physical world “by virtue of a mechanical necessity, by virtue of a supreme decree that they do not understand.” For this man, mechanical necessity—the necessity of a machine—is the same as “by virtue of a supreme decree.” This is being proclaimed, this is being spoken out into the world today by those who feel called, and who are called by the world, to bring true Christianity to humanity. And this is how it enters the world, as we can read right in the preface: “The content of this little book consists of 12 speeches that I delivered last winter in …”—here comes the city, which I do not wish to name—“before an audience of more than a thousand people.”

[ 43 ] It is indeed necessary that anyone who wishes to engage seriously with spiritual science turn their attention to what is actually alive in our time; for when the necessity of spiritual science is occasionally emphasized with serious and intense words, it is for this reason: those who are capable of doing so must become aware, in the present moment, of how this spiritual science is a demand of the times and of the nature of the spiritual disposition in the camp from which the opposing voices come.

[ 44 ] Today I cited a person to you—the little book is not explicitly directed against our spiritual science—as an example of a general phenomenon of our time. Spiritual science is not mentioned in it, for to this man—whom I also know personally—it is something utterly insignificant, something not worth mentioning further, something that simply resonates in the general context of mysticism, as a matter of course. But here we see a person who is highly renowned in his field, regarded as one of the foremost authorities, and who, upon closer examination of his system of thought, feeds humanity such nonsense—which goes unnoticed by thousands upon thousands because people do not look at things in the right way.

[ 45 ] But it is not only certain specific truths about the spiritual world that should permeate us; we should also be imbued with the awareness of how essential it is that living knowledge and the living word take root in the development of humanity. For one will surely realize that the impasse into which humanity has strayed—in social matters and in other aspects of life—also stems from spiritual preconditions; that it is, in particular, the karma of thoughtlessness. Thoughtlessness is far, far more widespread in our time than people realize. And the ability to grasp the task of spiritual science in the right way, in accordance with our inner feelings, will depend on looking at the world with open eyes and truly making an effort to form a sound judgment about the world. That is why it had become necessary today not only to say something to you in the first hour of my presentation—drawn directly from the content of spiritual science—that can shed light on important aspects of life, but I also had to shed light on the counter-image that emerges when one considers the context into which spiritual science is supposed to be carried. For you will still hear many, many voices like the one characterized yesterday from camps of all shades—be they religious, scholarly, or other people—who regard spiritual science as an absurdity, as a flight of fancy, and who, despite belonging to the ranks of today’s famous figures, demonstrably cannot even think, and who communicate this inability to think to the detriment and ruin of humanity’s development in the world. One must simply view these things in the right light. And one is, in a sense, obligated to see them in the right light if one is truly to connect with spiritual science, so that—depending on the place in life to which one’s karma has led one—one may do what one is able to do to give spiritual science, in the appropriate way, the recognition it truly needs—not for its own sake, but for the development of humanity. That it needs this becomes clear from the description of such a counterexample. Indeed, many—quite many—such descriptions could be given.