The Rudolf Steiner Archive

7. The Path to Imagination

[ 1 ] If we first consider the reality around us as it appears to the human senses and the human mind, we find ourselves surrounded by something that we might call—by way of comparison, figuratively speaking—a grand edifice of the world. We form concepts, ideas, and mental images of what it is like, of how its processes work, and we come into contact with what happens in this world structure—including its details—in such a way that we develop certain sympathies and antipathies toward this or that, which then play out in our emotional life. We ourselves, acting out of our own impulses of will, do this or that and thus intervene in the workings that prevail within this world structure.

[ 2 ] When one speaks of the structure of the world in this way, one initially imagines that this structure is composed of individual parts, and one then examines the individual parts and, in turn, the parts of those parts, until the observer of nature arrives at what he calls the smallest parts—the molecule, the atoms—of which I have already told you that no one has actually perceived them, that they are a hypothesis, but a hypothesis that is justified in a certain sense, provided one is aware that it is a hypothesis. In short, one regards what one might comparatively call the “structure of the world”—and indeed, with some justification—as composed of parts, of elements, and then forms no further conception of these elements, and that is, for the time being, a good thing. For those people who still indulge in particularly wild fantasies about the atom—even going so far as to speak of the “life” of the atom or engaging in even more outlandish fantasies about it—these people are speaking of the nothingness of nothingness; for the atom itself is already a hypothesis. So to build a hypothesis on top of hypotheses—that, of course, means building castles in the air; indeed, not even castles in the air, for with those one at least still has the cards, whereas with speculations about the atom one has nothing at all. Rather, based on an insight to be gained from the science of the spirit, one should admit that as soon as one wishes to go beyond this perspective—which views the structure of the world surrounding us initially in the way I have just indicated— one must arrive at a different way of viewing things, which relates to our everyday way of viewing things—which is, after all, also that of conventional science—in the same way that this conventional, everyday way of viewing things relates to the life of dreams. A person dreams in images, and can have an entire world within those images. Then they wake up. They know—not through a theory—for no theory can distinguish the dream from so-called “everyday reality”—but through life itself. Now they are no longer confronted with the images of the dream, but with realities that jostle, urge, and press upon them. They know this through immediate life. And again, it is the case that we can awaken from these everyday experiences—which can indeed be called, only comparatively, a “dream of life”—and only then do we have before us a higher reality, the reality of the spirit. And again, it is only through life that one can distinguish this higher spiritual reality from the reality of everyday life, just as one can distinguish the reality of everyday life from the dream and its images only through life. But when one enters the world that spiritual science describes to us—the world that spiritual science helps us to comprehend—then—one can, of course, form various mental images that comparatively suggest how spiritual reality relates to ordinary reality, but today I want to use a particular image—then everything appears as follows: Let us imagine that we are looking at a house built from individual bricks. Certainly, when we look at the house, we initially perceive it as being composed of individual bricks. With the house, we cannot go any further than the individual bricks at first. But let us suppose that the house were not composed of ordinary bricks, but that each brick were itself an extraordinarily artful structure, and that when one casts an ordinary glance at the house, one would see only the bricks, parallelepiped-shaped, just as one sees them, but one would have no inkling that each brick is, so to speak, a small work of art in its own right. So it is with the structure of the world. We need only take a single detail from the structure of the world—the detail that is, at first glance, the most complex, let’s say, the human being. Consider that the human being, because he is a part of the structure of the world, appears to us as a composite of parts: head, limbs, sense organs, and so on. Consider how, over the course of time, we have striven to understand each individual part in turn from the perspective of the spiritual world. Just recall what we said only recently: What a human being has as a head points us back to his or her previous earthly incarnation; what he or she now has as a body belongs to this earthly incarnation and carries within it the predisposition for the head in the next earthly incarnation. The shape of our head points us back to previous incarnations.

[ 3 ] Think of something else. Remember that we recently spoke of the twelve senses, and linked these twelve senses—which human beings carry within themselves—to the twelve forces corresponding to the twelve constellations of the zodiac. We said that, microcosmically, we carry within us the macrocosm with its forces, which initially act through the twelve constellations. Each of these forces is different—the forces of Aries are different, the forces of Taurus are different, the forces of Gemini are different, and so on—just as the perceptual capacity of the eye is different, the perceptual capacity of the ear is different, and so on. The twelve senses correspond to the twelve constellations of the zodiac. But they do not merely correspond to them. We know, after all, that the foundation for the human sense organs was already laid on ancient Saturn, and continued to develop during the Solar Age and the Lunar Age right up into our Earth Age. It was only during our Earth era that human beings, with their senses, became the self-contained beings we see today. In earlier times—during the Lunar, Solar, and Saturn eras—they were much more open to the great cosmos. During these three eras preceding the Earth era, the forces of the twelve signs of the zodiac truly worked within our human being. As the structure of our senses was forming, the forces of the zodiac acted upon them. When we speak of this correspondence between the senses and the zodiac signs, it is not merely a matter of correspondence, but rather a seeking out of those forces that have built our senses into us. We do not speak in a superficial way of some correspondence between the “I” sense and Aries, or between the other senses and this or that sign of the zodiac; rather, we speak this way because, during the earlier stages of our Earth’s development, the human senses were not yet developed to the point where they were situated within the human organism and perceived the external world. They were first built into the human organism by the twelve forces. We are structured out of the macrocosm; thus, by studying the human sense organs, we are studying universal forces that have been at work within us for millions and millions of years, and whose results are such marvelous parts of the human organism as the eyes or the ears. It is truly the case that we study these parts in terms of their spiritual content, just as if we had to study every brick in a house that we are observing for its artistic construction.

[ 4 ] I could offer another example: Let’s suppose we have some kind of structure in front of us, artfully layered from rolls of paper. Now, we can first describe what we’ve artfully layered from these rolls of paper: Some rolls are standing upright, others are rolled up crookedly, and this—artfully arranged—forms some kind of structure. But imagine that we hadn’t merely stacked paper rolls, but that a wonderful painting had been painted inside each one. We wouldn’t see that at all if we were to look at the rolls—which are rolled up and have the paintings on the inside. And yet they’re there! And before the structure could be created, the paintings had to be painted inside. But suppose it were the case that we did not stack the paper rolls to form this artistic structure, but that it had to stack itself. Of course, you cannot imagine it stacking itself—you are quite right; no one can imagine that—but let’s suppose that, because the paintings are on all the rolls, there lies within them the power for the rolls to stack themselves: Then you have here a picture of the true structure of our world! I can compare the paintings on the scrolls to everything that happened during the Saturn, Sun, and Moon eras—what is mysteriously embedded in every single part of our world’s structure. But these are not lifeless paintings; they are living forces that build up what is to be on Earth, what is to be on our physical plane, and we draw out what is artfully concealed in what is, so to speak, layered before us from the individual scrolls of the world structure—and what is described by external science, what confronts us in external life. But if you think this image through to its conclusion—I have long reflected on finding an image that corresponds as closely as possible to the reality; it is the image of these scrolls, which contain living, active images—then you will find that no human eye looking at the structure can initially have any inkling of the images that are inside. If the structure is truly artistic, we will receive a description of the structure that is itself quite artistic, but the description will contain nothing about the paintings that are inside.

[ 5 ] You see, that is how it is with external scholarship. It describes this elaborate structure, but it completely ignores what is depicted as a painting on each individual scroll. But if you think the comparison through to its conclusion, you must consider something else entirely: Is there, in all that activity which describes this artful structure of the scrolls, any possibility of even guessing—let alone actually describing—what is depicted on the individual scrolls, when the scrolls are rolled up and forming the structure? There is absolutely none! In this sense, you must also be clear that conventional science cannot initially even conceive that this spiritual element underlies our world structure. Therefore, an understanding of spiritual science cannot be found in a straightforward continuation of what one learns in conventional science; rather, something must be added—something that, in essence, has nothing at all to do with conventional science. For just imagine that you have these stacked rolls before you. Someone could describe them very well; they might even discover wonderful details—for example, that some rolls are laid more crookedly, some less so, some are shaped into a curve, and so on—and they would describe all of this beautifully. But to realize that there is a painting inside each roll, they would have to take a roll out and unroll it. This has nothing at all to do with the description of the layered structure. So something special must be added to the human soul if the soul, coming from the ordinary scientific worldview as we have it today, is to enter into a spiritual-scientific perspective; the soul must be seized by something special. This is precisely what is so difficult to understand today for the external culture that lives in materialism—yet it must be grasped once again, just as it was grasped in the most diverse cultural periods, when a spiritual worldview was still held as something that permeated the physical worldview. In earlier times, people were always clear that what one is to know about the spiritual content of the world is based on the soul being particularly captivated by the spiritual. That is why they spoke not only of scientific method, but also of initiations and the like—and they spoke of these things with good reason. Let us simply be clear that this view is the correct one.

[ 6 ] I would like to offer you another analogy that, if you think it through to its conclusion, can make the matter quite clear to you. It is an analogy drawn from the ancient traditions of spiritual science. You see, in spiritual science, one rightly speaks of an “occult reading of the world.” What conventional science does is not “reading the world.” If you take what is written on a page of a book or a document, and you cannot read and have never even heard of such a thing as reading—well, suppose, for the sake of argument, that the page contained a scene from Goethe’s Faust—then, of course, what is contained on that page remains completely unknown to you; but you can describe the written characters; you can describe: “Up there is something that has a hook, then there’s a straight line going down, then there’s a horizontal line.” You can describe the individual letters and how they are arranged. That will provide a description. Such a description of external physical reality is, for example, what natural science is today, and it is also what history, as we know it today, is—but all such descriptions do not constitute reading.

[ 7 ] Now you might ask yourself: Does anyone in the world today learn to read by sitting down in front of a page, having no idea how to read, and then trying to figure out what’s written there based on the shapes of the letters? Surely no one learns to read that way today! We learn to read during our childhood. We do not learn it by learning to describe the shapes of letters, but rather by having something spiritual imparted to us, by being spiritually inspired to read. This has always been the case with what are called the lower and higher degrees of initiation. It was not based on teaching souls to describe what lies outside them, but rather to read within what lies outside them, to unravel the meaning of the world. That is why what is contained in the world as spiritual has rightly been called the “Word,” because the world wants to be read if one wishes to understand it spiritually. And one does not learn to read by learning the shapes of letters, but by receiving a spiritual impulse.

[ 8 ] That is essentially what I always strive to achieve through the method of presentation commonly used within our circles. If you recall various points that come up throughout our lectures, you will always see that I try to use images as much as possible. I am using images again today, and one can only be led into the spiritual realm through images. And as soon as one forces the images too much into concepts that are actually only suitable for the physical plane, they no longer contain what they are actually meant to contain. Modern people, however, find themselves in a kind of confusion because they cannot grasp what is conveyed in images in a way that gives it real substance for them. They immediately interpret the image itself in a wholly materialistic way. As soon as we look at somewhat more primitive cultures, we see that people there did not have our modern concepts at all, but thought entirely in images and expressed their realities through images. If you take the Eastern cultures of Asia, which have a somewhat atavistic character—remnants of the past—you will still find everywhere today that when people want to express something particularly profound and meaningful, they speak in images, and these images do indeed have a value of reality. Let’s take an example in which the image actually has immediate reality value—one might say, a crude reality value. And yet the European will find it extremely difficult to understand the Asian, who retains older, atavistic conceptions of reality; he will find him too crude.

[ 9 ] A beautiful Asian novella tells the following story: Once upon a time, a married couple had a daughter. The daughter grew up, was sent to school in the capital because she showed special abilities, returned from school, and married an acquaintance of her father’s, a merchant. She had a son and died when the boy was four years old. The day after his mother’s funeral, the child suddenly said, “Mother went up the stairs to the upper floor; she’ll be up there.” Well, the whole family went up the stairs. Of course, one must put oneself in the mind of an Eastern person to understand what follows. For even though I am recounting something that is immediately and closely tied to reality, a European would experience it quite differently. Let’s suppose a four-year-old European child were to say that the mother, who was buried yesterday, had gone up the stairs; if the others were to go up the stairs with a candle and look around an unoccupied floor, they would naturally find nothing there. They would, of course, dismiss the whole thing as nonsense. So one must be able to empathize with the Asian soul in this instance. So the people went upstairs with the light and actually found the mother standing there—a shadow standing in front of a dresser, staring intently into it. The dresser’s drawers were closed, and the people said to themselves—rightly, based on their beliefs—that there must be something in the dresser that is misleading the soul. They emptied the chest of drawers and carried the objects inside it to the temple so they could be kept there. By doing so, they had, after all, removed them from the world, hadn’t they? They believed that the soul would no longer return, for they knew: this is not supposed to happen; such a soul can only return if it is still bound by something. — But it came back anyway! Every evening, when they checked again, she was there. So they went to a wise temple guardian, who then came, said he needed to be left undisturbed, and recited his sutras. And when the “Hour of the Rat” came—as the time from 12 to 2 is called in the East—the woman was there again, staring fixedly at a spot on the chest of drawers. So he asked if there was anything there. She gestured to him that there was indeed something there. He opened the first drawer—there was nothing inside; the second drawer—nothing inside; the third drawer, the fourth drawer—nothing inside! Then it occurred to him to lift the paper lining the drawers as well. There, between the last sheet of paper and the bottom of the drawer, he found a letter. He promised that no one would ever find out about this letter, that he would burn it in the temple. He did just that; after that, she never came back.

[ 10 ] Well, this Oriental tale corresponds to everything that is real; it expresses reality. If one were to try to describe the matter using European concepts, it would be very difficult. And on the other hand, Europeans today still have too much crudeness in their thinking. They believe that if something is real, everyone must be able to see it. Europeans generally make only two distinctions: either everyone sees something, in which case it is real, or not everyone sees it, in which case it is subjective—it is not objective. But this distinction between “subjective” and “objective” has no meaning at all once one enters the spiritual world; it has meaning only in the physical world. It is by no means the case that one could say that what others do not see must not be objective.

[ 11 ] Now you might say that such things exist in Europe as well. Yes, they exist here too, but Europeans are glad when they can say: “It’s just fiction, and you don’t have to believe it.” That’s why it’s so much easier to express the spiritual world through fiction—because then you’re not claiming that people have to believe it. And people are already satisfied if they simply don’t have to believe what’s being said. But the objection that it’s a novella doesn’t hold water, because one really has to take into account that Europeans can understand Asians very little when they say such things. What Europeans call their short stories, their art, is, for Asians, a highly superfluous game; to them, it is nothing. In fact, they merely mock the idea that one should tell stories about things that do not even exist. The true Asian does not understand this. In his so-called works of art, he recounts only what truly exists—albeit in the spiritual world, so to speak. This is a profound difference between the European and Asian worldviews. The fact that we in Europe write short stories in which we recount things that do not exist at all is, in the view of the Oriental, a highly superfluous pursuit. All of our art is, in fact, a rather superfluous pursuit according to a truly Eastern conception. And what we have of Asian art, we must certainly understand as still being conceived as imaginings of spiritual reality; otherwise, we cannot understand at all what is coming over from that side. We Europeans, after all, take our revenge by measuring Asian narratives not by Asian standards but by European ones, and we say: “It’s simply spirited poetry, a spirited imagination; it wanders off—that’s a fertile Oriental imagination!”

[ 12 ] So, in many cases, one must speak in images, and this mode of expression is what matters. And so, little by little, we will have to come to understand once again that we must often speak in images. Certainly, if we were to speak only in images today, that would run counter to European culture; we cannot do that. But we can, so to speak, transcend ordinary thinking—which is actually intended only for the physical plane—and move into thinking about the spiritual world, and then into imagery, into that kind of thinking that arises under the impulse of the spiritual world. This is also how it should be understood when, for example, I try to say: The natural scientist sketches a picture of the world, and if he believes that this picture of the world is also vivid, he makes the same mistake as someone who claims he could paint a picture from which the person depicted would step out and walk back and forth in the room. In my exposition—as you can see in my latest book, The Riddle of Man—I move from ordinary, logical exposition into pictorial exposition. If spiritual science is truly to take root in the West, this must become the prevailing style of exposition. And an immense amount depends on this very point being understood. A philosophical treatise that sought to express the same thing today would present countless logical arguments, craft the most artificial concepts, but it would operate within what is now dying out, what is no longer alive, and what is calculated solely to understand the outer layers of the scrolls, not that which lives as a painting on the inside of each scroll. All these things only become meaningful when we apply them to life itself, for it is through this that we learn to understand life. What is commonly called “logical proof” must first come to life in and of itself if one wishes to understand spiritual science in a living way.

[ 13 ] Let’s consider a case: Today, there are musical people, and there are unmusical people. Now, everyone knows there is a huge difference between a musical person and an unmusical person. From a certain perspective, one could even say that a musical person is a completely different being than an unmusical person, if one considers the soul. This is not meant to be a criticism of unmusical people, but merely a statement of a certain fact. It is, therefore, a life experience we encounter as we go through life. We meet both musical and unmusical people in life. That is one thing. However, anyone who takes a closer look at life may not immediately arrive at the saying found in Shakespeare: “The man who has no music in him is fit for treachery, murder, and malice; trust no such man.” — As I said, one may not immediately arrive at this conclusion, but there is a certain difference between musical and non-musical people, even with regard to the overall configuration of the soul.

[ 14 ] One would like to understand, after all, how it is that there are musical and unmusical people among us. If you look around in the science of the soul—which imitates the natural sciences—I do not believe you will find much that could shed light on why one type of person is musical and another is unmusical. And that is just as well, for if this “science of the soul”—which imitates the natural sciences—were to offer explanations as to why one person is musical and another is not, and if it were to delve into precisely such subtleties, then it would actually achieve something worthwhile!

[ 15 ] But now we find another difference among people. We find people who, in a sense, go through life without being particularly moved by what is happening around them, while others go through life with such an open soul that they are deeply moved by what is happening around them—feeling intense joy at one thing, sorrow at another, cheerfulness at one thing, and sadness at another. These differences also exist. There are people who are emotionally numb and others who, in a sense, empathize with the whole world. There are people who need only walk into a room where there aren’t too many people, and after a very short time they establish a certain connection with those around them by sensing what the others are feeling—quickly, through what are called “inexplicable forces.” There are others who come into contact with many people but don’t really get to know a single one, because they lack the gift I just mentioned. They simply judge every other person based on who they themselves are, and if that person isn’t like them, then that person is, in fact, more or less a bad person. But there are other people who respond to each and every individual, empathizing with what the other is experiencing. They are usually also the kind of people who can empathize with every animal, every beetle, every sparrow, and who can rejoice in one thing that’s happening and grieve over another. Notice how often this happens in life—especially at a certain age—when one young person rejoices over all sorts of things, one moment elated to the skies, the next deeply saddened, while another says: “You’re a silly fellow; it’s all basically the same!”—These two types of people exist as well. Of course, these two traits are more or less developed; they don’t even have to be very obvious, but they can be quite clearly hinted at.

[ 16 ] Now the spiritual researcher comes along and tries to reflect on the world in his own way, and comes to this conclusion: Musical people are those who, in a previous life, easily made the transition from joy to sadness, from sadness to joy—those who could go with the flow of everything. This was internalized, and as a result, that rhythmic adaptability—which gives rise to the musical soul—arose within them. In contrast, people who in past lives passively ignored external events do not become musical. Of course, they may possess other excellent qualities; they may, for all I care, be world reformers who bring about great changes in world history. There is a figure—perhaps not entirely unknown to you—who was in Rome at the time when the greatest painters were working there, during the era that gave rise to the art of Michelangelo and Raphael; a figure who, at that time in Rome, saw nothing but immorality in everything. Rome itself was also immoral. He overlooked that aspect, focusing instead on what was not immoral—for example, the art of Michelangelo and Raphael. He was a very significant figure who accomplished great things, a reformer—you all know him. So one certainly cannot say that this is meant here in the sense of malicious criticism. But this lack of musicality is based on the fact that one did not receive vivid impressions in a previous incarnation of what can give vivid impressions to some souls. Just think how life becomes transparent when one can approach it with such insights—how understandable people can become! And if we bear in mind that spiritual science instills in our souls a greater longing to characterize things through images, then this takes on no negative connotation.

[ 17 ] Of course, if everything were expressed in terms of concepts, and if this were to lead, for example, to spiritual science now approaching and analyzing every human being in a dissecting manner—asking, “What was this person in his or her previous incarnation? What was he or she?”—then one would have to be wary of spiritual science. Then, so to speak, one would no longer dare to go out among people if one knew that one would be analyzed in this way. But that would only be the case if one were working with such crude concepts. But if one remains within the image, the image captures one’s feeling, and one arrives at an emotional understanding of other people—an understanding that need not be transformed into concepts. One transforms it into concepts only when expressing it as a general truth. It is fine, as I have just said, to speak of the “movement” of the soul in a previous incarnation and the “musicality” in a subsequent incarnation, but it would be tasteless if I were to meet a person who is musical and then describe him as he was in his previous incarnation simply because he is musical now. These truths arise from the individual, but the point is not to apply them to the individual. This is something that must be truly understood in the deepest sense.

[ 18 ] With truths like these, it is still understandable, but when things go a step further, what is intended to enlighten humanity can very easily lead to nonsense. Just think for a moment how easily this happens, time and time again: People generally talk about reincarnation. Well, I once spoke about the relationship between reincarnation and self-knowledge in one of our branches. It is good to pay attention to this topic as well, and I said, for example, in that branch at the time, when I was speaking about reincarnation and self-knowledge: It is good to try to put certain concepts—which can be gained from spiritual science—into practice in one’s self-knowledge. For example, I mentioned the idea that when we are born, at the beginning of our lives, our karma often brings us together with people with whom we were associated in a previous incarnation—around the middle of life, in our thirties—so that we are not immediately with the very same people we were with back then in that earlier incarnation. Well, I have cited specific rules—you can also find them in my lectures—on how to apply reincarnation to self-knowledge. Yes, what did that lead to back then? It led to something specific happening. It became apparent shortly thereafter that a whole number of people had founded a formal “Club of the Reincarnated.” It was indeed the case that a group of people each stated what they had been in their previous life or in all their previous lives. Of course, they were all tremendously outstanding figures in the development of humanity—that goes almost without saying—and they also had connections to one another.

[ 19 ] That gnawed at me for a long time. Of course, that’s awful, terrible stuff, because it generally goes against something I’ve also emphasized: If someone is truly to know anything about their previous incarnation, it is not the case in the present that one can grasp it from within; rather, one’s attention is drawn to it from the outside by some external event or by someone else. Today, it is generally wrong for someone to draw from within and declare: “I am this or that.” If someone is to know something, it is told to them from the outside. Those who had founded that “Club of the Reincarnated” back then could have waited a long time before being told. Yet they were all significant figures—the most significant in the development of humanity! And when word got out, as they say, and people were asked, “Where does this come from?” the response was: “Yes, we simply had to do it!” Back then, they gave a lecture on the importance of cultivating self-knowledge in the context of reincarnation, and from that point on, we all set about reflecting on who we were in our previous lives and what relationships we had with one another!

[ 20 ] We now ask: Against what, exactly, are we sinning in such a case? — We are truly sinning against that reverence we ought to have for the great spiritual truths—that reverence which consists in our being able to remain “within the picture” to the proper degree; for stepping out of the picture occurs only when it is necessary. This is already necessary in spiritual science: that we develop a certain reverence, so to speak, and that we know that this “spintizing”—this reducing everything to a concept—is always harmful. To think about matters of spiritual science in the same way one thinks about matters of the physical plane is always harmful. Once one has acquired this sense of reverence, it is indeed the case that one develops certain moral qualities that cannot develop unless one carries these things in the right way within one’s soul. In this sense, spiritual science must also lead to the moral elevation of modern culture.

[ 21 ] We Europeans are right to say: Because we are able to perceive the Christ Mystery in our spiritual life, we have an advantage over all other cultures—including, for example, Asian and Oriental cultures. Their understanding of the spirit does not encompass the Christ essence. A Japanese, a Chinese, a Hindu, or a Persian does not have the essence of Christ in their thinking about spiritual world connections, and that is why we rightly call this Asian worldview an atavistic one, one that has come down from earlier times. They may, like the Vedanta philosophy for example, reach tremendous heights in their understanding of the world; yet the fact that they cannot grasp the Christ Mystery renders them atavistic conceptions, for penetrating deeply into certain interrelationships is not in itself a sign of a particular spiritual height. For example, I knew someone who was in our ranks for a long time—and who, incidentally, also belonged to the Club of the Reincarnated, as it just occurs to me—and who put forward excellent theories about certain aspects of Atlantean life. Building on the general, overarching perspectives set forth, for example, in my treatise on Atlantis, this individual arrived at very interesting conclusions that were true; and yet this individual was so little attuned to our cause that he simply broke away from our movement when it suited him for external reasons. Under certain circumstances, it may take only a very specific configuration of the etheric body to gain insight into certain supersensible realms. But if spiritual science is to flow vividly into our culture, it must engage the whole human being in such a way that he grows together with the deepest impulses of this spiritual science. And then this spiritual science will bring forth precisely what our culture—which is developing into materialism—lacks.

[ 22 ] So we are right to say: We have the Mystery of Christ ahead of Asian cultures. But what do the Asians say? I am not telling you something I have made up, but rather what the more discerning Asians actually say. They say: “Fine, you have the Mystery of Christ before us; that is something we do not have, and in your view, that places you on a higher level of culture. But now you also say, for example: ‘By their fruits you shall know them.’” Now your religion prescribes that all people should love one another, but when we look at your lives, that is not the case. You send missionaries to Asia who tell us all these wonderful things; but when we come to Europe, people there do not live at all as they ought to if everything that is told were entirely true! — That is what the Asians say. Think about whether they are entirely wrong! At a religious congress where representatives of all religions were to speak, this very issue was discussed, and the Asian representatives replied exactly as I have just said. They said: You send us missionaries—that is certainly all very nice. But you’ve had Christianity for two thousand years now; we can’t see that moral development has, as a result, progressed so vastly beyond our own!”

[ 23 ] But there is a good reason for this, my dear friends. You see, the Asian lives much more within the group soul; he lives much less as an individual. For him, morality is, in a sense, innate—innate in the nature of the group soul—and the European, precisely because he develops the “I,” must step out of the group soul and be left to his own devices. As a result, egoism must, in a certain sense, come to the fore. Egoism is, after all, the necessary byproduct of individualism, and only gradually can people find their way back to one another by understanding Christianity in a higher sense. But even among the best of those who have reflected on this—precisely in relation to Christianity—much has stood in the way of a true understanding of the consequences of the Mystery of Golgotha. It is certainly immensely “profound,” my dear friends, when someone says that we must experience the Christ within ourselves. You see, there is—I would say—a symbolic theosophy. You know how I always speak out against this symbolic theosophy, which always tries to explain everything symbolically. Even the Resurrection of Christ is explained as a mere inner process, whereas in truth it is a historical event. It is truly Christ who rose in the world, but some theosophists find it easier to come to terms with the matter if they explain it merely as an inner process. As you know, that was the special art of the late Franz Hartmann, who, in every lecture, repeatedly taught people the essence of theosophy by saying: “One must grasp oneself within, grasp God within oneself,” and so on. Now, if you understand the Gospels correctly, you will find no basis for the idea that the Gospels advocate that one should experience Christ only from within. Certainly, there are many theosophical symbolists who reinterpret various passages, but in truth, everything in the Gospels is such that the great Gospel saying is true: “Where two are united in my name, I am in their midst.” Christ is a social phenomenon. Christ passed through the Mystery of Golgotha as a reality, and He is present as a reality; He does not belong to the individual human being, but to human community. What matters is what He does. Such things can sometimes be better understood through imagery than through abstract concepts.

[ 24 ] The other day we were together with a friend who had just returned from the front but is now gone again—I’m recounting a very recent event that truly deserves to be recorded. — This friend was kind enough to fetch a horse-drawn cab, and when he returned with it, he said, “I was chatting with the coachman on the way here.” He was a rather peculiar coachman, for when we had ridden with him and got out, he opened the hood and took out two small pamphlets: Friedensbote, which he handed to us after we had paid him. He was also promoting a spiritual worldview at the same time! Now this friend told me that he had spoken with this cab driver—who has been driving cabs ever since they first appeared—and the driver had told him: “It all comes down to people finding Christ. It all comes down to Christ!” — So he hailed a cab from the nearest cab stand and immediately struck up a conversation with the driver, who told him: “If you find Christ—whom you don’t have right now—then the world will move forward.” Well, the cab driver went on to say various other things. He said: “You see, the thing about Christ is this: Just imagine, I’m a very, very decent man, a model citizen, and I have children—they’re all good-for-nothings. Does that make me any less of a decent, model citizen just because I have children who are good-for-nothings? They all know me, they all think they know me, but they’re all good-for-nothings. That’s how I picture Christ. He belongs to everyone; as such, he is the only figure in his own right, but that doesn’t mean everyone else really understands him.”

[ 25 ] Just think what a wonderful image this cab driver formed of the unique life of this Christ—this life set apart from the rest! So he really came to realize that Christ is something that lives among us, lives with us, something that belongs to all of us together, not to any one individual; for he looked at his boys as individuals—all of them good-for-nothings, all of them worthless, all of them still struggling to grasp things. If this cab driver, who had come up with this truly extraordinary and significant image, had tried to express it philosophically, nothing would have come of it; but the image corresponds wonderfully to what is actually meant to be understood. Now, of course, such an abstract image is not enough—an individual may have it, but it cannot influence our culture. But I simply wanted to point out how even the simplest mind can arrive at a true image, and how things should truly find their way into the image. I have tried to achieve this in a very special way through the style and manner of presentation in this latest book, which deals with non-theosophical material, so that this book is “theosophical”—if one wishes to use that term—by virtue of its manner of presentation.

[ 26 ] That is why, in a sense, we must understand our teaching more and more between the lines if we want to grasp it correctly—that our teaching must become life, the life of each and every one of us. And that is precisely what weighs so heavily on one’s soul: that it is so difficult to bring these things to life.

[ 27 ] You see, anyone who is connected to these things—especially if they truly understand what is alive in today’s external rationalistic culture—must realize that what pulsates through spiritual science must become life in every single branch of culture. It should influence thought, it should influence feelings, and it should permeate the will; only then does it fulfill its purpose. But this requires a certain real inner strength to be able to feel connected to the matter. And it is difficult that this process proceeds so infinitely slowly, that people do not feel truly connected to the impulses inherent in spiritual science. One really has experiences that show how people simply pass right by what they ought to be focusing on. I’ll take a specific case: Someone was once a member of our group, an immensely learned gentleman, but his learning did not satisfy him; he was deeply unhappy despite his learning, which encompassed the Oriental languages and all that one can absorb through these Oriental languages and cultures—the culture of the Near East. Well, someone like that then comes and seeks advice. In such a case, my advice must be to show how, through an understanding of spiritual science, the spirit enters into such a discipline—into Oriental philosophy. So I try to show him how to permeate the scholarly material he already possesses with what spiritual science offers. But the two remained separate, existing side by side. On the one hand, he pursued his Oriental studies, as they are typically pursued at universities; on the other hand, he pursued spiritual science. They did not come together; he could not interweave one with the other. Now imagine how fruitful it would be if someone who knows so much—and he really did know an immense amount—were to step forward—he wouldn’t even need to let on that he thinks theosophically, even if people were to look askance at him for it—and were to take this science and infuse it with theosophy. Then he could even present it at the university! That man could very well have penetrated the culture that thrives along the Euphrates and Tigris and a little further west—he was particularly at home there and in Egyptology—with spiritual science and achieved something extraordinary, at any rate something that would have a more enriching effect than what is currently being produced in popularized form by run-of-the-mill writers. Just the other day, yet another such writer appeared in a daily newspaper that’s widely read these days; referring to a sphinx-like figure found during the construction of the Baghdad Railway, he wrote about that region over there—well, even if his name is Arthur Bonus, truly, he’s no “good” one! That’s a terrible thing!

[ 28 ] This already stands before us as an ideal, my dear friends: to let our thinking be guided by what spiritual science offers. But this is how it should also be in life—in ordinary life from person to person, in ordinary life with this or that person. One can bring these ideas into every aspect of life. If this were not conceived, if this ideal did not exist, then spiritual science could not truly bear fruit. But the call to do so is everywhere. Just think: there are excellent historians who describe, say, the history of England during the time of James I, and there are excellent historians who describe the life of the Jesuit Suárez. You know, when I speak about Jesuitism, I have to express myself carefully; I mustn’t say too many good things—that is, things that could be misunderstood. It’s true: Most people know nothing about this Suarez other than that he is said to have very explicitly taught regicide in a specific chapter. But that’s not true. After all, people very often know what isn’t true, while what is true is often less well known. Now there are excellent books about this Suárez, and one can indeed read and understand these books—mostly written by Jesuits—about Suárez, the successor to Ignatius of Loyola, without ever having to become a Jesuit, without ever having been one, and without having to be told that one was a Jesuit. The facts are there, and if one connects them, one can thereby resolve one of the greatest questions of recent history. These two figures—James I on the one hand and Suárez, the Jesuit philosopher, on the other—are two powerful opposites! I would like to say that while a recent development of a very Ahrimanic nature began with James I, and another of a very Luciferic nature began with Suárez, their interaction—and especially their mutual struggle—has shaped much of what lives and weaves in modern times. But this leads us to mysterious connections. And I do not mean these things in the sense that I wish to level accusations. One comes to realize, for example, that an immense amount of what is today called historical materialism, Marxism, and the social-democratic worldview stems directly from Suárez. Please don’t say now: “He said the Social Democrats are Jesuits!” — But the matter is, in a certain sense, very well-founded, whereas some members of the opposing camp—that is, people opposed to Social Democracy—can in turn be traced back to what was inaugurated by James I.

[ 29 ] I have pointed out to you something that is widely present in people’s thoughts. One finds, in particular, two main currents even within occult communities, and from these, in turn, emerges that which is not occult. These two main currents give rise to two very typical, opposing figures: James I of England, with an initiated soul of an extraordinary kind living within him, and Suárez. Now read Suárez’s biography. Yes, you will not understand it unless you have truly grasped spiritual science. Suárez was one of those people who were initially poor students, who learned nothing. According to today’s materialistic judgment, there is absolutely nothing to be done with such people, although one could very easily prove that the world’s great geniuses learned nothing as schoolboys. But he was one of those poor students; even in college, he was not yet what one would call a clever person—but then it happened suddenly, and every biography recounts this sudden awakening. A genius-like gift suddenly awakens, and he writes these books—which, admittedly, are not well-known in wider circles but are extraordinarily significant—that Suarez himself wrote. It came suddenly, awakened by many things I’ve already hinted at in the lecture describing the Jesuit exercises, which Suárez also applied to himself—through which he awakened something that gave him the ability to develop exceptional intellectual powers. Thus, one can demonstrate in Suarez’s biography—just as one can demonstrate precisely in the case of James I—how he—one cannot put it quite that way, but it is, in the best sense of the term, a “turnaround,” that is, a transition from the non-spiritual to the spiritual. This soul, which later accomplishes something extraordinary, is born at a specific moment in life. This does not develop in a straight line, but rather through a sudden jolt—if the karma is present—or it develops because the person in question receives an influence comparable to what enables one to learn to read in the elemental realm: not through a description of the shapes of letters, but by receiving an impulse that enables one to understand the letters.

[ 30 ] So you see once again how spiritual science could serve as a guide to understanding these historical connections—that life takes shape for us in such a way that this life would become entirely different. And I have hinted at this so many times. And if someone takes spiritual science to heart, it is indeed the case that they learn to approach life differently, that they are inspired to do things they would not otherwise have thought of doing. It is hard to imagine that someone who takes spiritual science to heart would come up with the curious idea that they are, say, the reincarnated Mary Magdalene. That would never occur to them; instead, they will direct their inner gaze toward other aspects of the soul.

[ 31 ] As I said, it is difficult today to observe just how slowly development is proceeding in the direction I just spoke of, the one I hinted at. People take spiritual science far too theoretically; they want to enjoy it too much on its own. And it must be viewed in a very living way. And today, as we are gathered here—before we must part ways for a while, as summer begins and we will likely have to go to Dornach—I would like to briefly point out a few important points in this direction. I do believe that we must give such things some thought.

[ 32 ] You see, my dear friends, if things had turned out the way some people—those coming from older traditions—had imagined they would fourteen years ago, when we founded the spiritual science movement here, we would have ended up with a sect. For the whole thing was set up to foster sectarianism. Everything that was brought over from England was also designed to foster the formation of a sect. And in many cases, people actually felt quite comfortable when they were completely closed off in small circles. There they could say: “All the other people out there are fools.” — There was, after all, so little control over it. But it couldn’t go on like that. Spiritual science had to take our entire culture into account. And you will have seen that: it always took this culture into account; particularly in public, it emphasized what—no matter how much people may object to it—can nevertheless find its way into contemporary European minds. Now, I don’t want to criticize—that would be quite a silly thing to do—but it will become more and more necessary to learn to understand precisely this: that this movement must not become a sectarian movement, and must not bear the character of a sectarian movement at all, if it is to fulfill its task. The fact that general culture is taken into account leads to all sorts of things. People on the outside, when they write about our movement at all, mostly write nonsense, don’t they? They say it doesn’t do any harm, in a deeper sense. It does extraordinary harm! And that is why we must defend ourselves against it, and we must do everything we can to counter it. Everything must be done so that, little by little, the world will not only stop writing nonsense but will write better things—naturally. But in a spiritual sense, something else is even more harmful. It is harmful when what is intended for the understanding of the inner circle is carried out into the public sphere in an incorrect way, to the extent that one can now even buy the cycles at secondhand bookstores. Certainly, in a certain sense this may be impossible to prevent, but it happens—not exactly that one can buy the cycles from antiquarian booksellers, but something equivalent—again and again. A certain person—about whom someone who worked with him for a long time recently told me that he writes nothing himself, that he belongs to a somewhat questionable clique that controls him, and that he then sits down and writes whatever comes to mind—has written numerous pamphlets about our spiritual science, even going so far as to publish thick books. These contain not only quotations from my printed books published for the general public, but also very long passages quoted from the cycles. So it’s not just that one can buy these works at secondhand bookstores; anyone who wants to write a nonsensical book today is, after all, able to obtain the cycles. Naturally, they’ll then get hold of two or three cycles, copy passages that sound completely absurd when taken out of context, and turn them into a book.

[ 33 ] These are the difficulties that arise from the fact that, on the one hand, we face the public, and on the other, we are part of society. But we must learn to understand this difficulty; then it will be easier to resolve. As I said, I do not wish to criticize—that serves no purpose at all—but rather to describe; I want to show where the difficulties lie; one need only pay attention to them. Of course, in the near future, even more shameful things will be done against our spiritual science than have already happened. That may all certainly be true; one cannot change it just like that; but studying the conditions of this spiritual science movement is, I would say, quite necessary—and one should not simply pass by, as if one were determined to be completely unmusical in the next life, the things that can make one happy and the things that can annoy one in the way our spiritual science movement is judged by the world.

[ 34 ] You see, someone who thinks only selfishly—as I said, this is not meant to be a criticism at all, I just want to describe—that person thinks today that spiritual science has more to say about certain natural relationships than external science, and so people keep turning to me again and again asking for medical advice, even though I repeatedly emphasize that I want only to be a teacher and guardian of spiritual science, and not to serve as a doctor. Now, of course, one may certainly wish to receive friendly advice, and to refuse it would be absurd. If someone comes seeking friendly advice, why should it be refused if it relates to matters of natural science, even though, after all that has happened, I ask that no one who does not have a doctor ask me about anything related to health. Those who think only selfishly do not consider that this is simply not permitted today, that it leads to conflict with the outside world, and that it harms our spiritual science movement. We must strive to make things better; we must work everywhere to ensure that there is not merely a standardized form of medicine based on purely materialistic principles. This can be done, but we cannot think solely in a selfish way: “What is good for me?”—if this results in a detriment to what our movement must be. Certainly, spiritual scientific advice can now emerge; it would be absurd if it were not to emerge. It would be disheartening if one could not say something to someone about one ailment or another from which they suffer, but is it really possible to do so when the following occurs—I will recount another fact to you—: Someone is ill, and what’s more, in a city where I had stated just before, in order to avoid such things, that I expressly refuse to have people turn to me in cases of illness. This was stated officially. Now someone is ill, goes to a sanatorium, and stays there for a while. A long-standing member of ours, who has always been, I might say, intimately involved in even the most private matters, writes to that sanatorium: “The patient in question can now be discharged from the sanatorium, because Dr. Steiner has given this or that advice.”—He writes this to the doctor, so that the doctor then goes to the member in question and says: “You’re always saying that Theosophy just wants to be Theosophy, doesn’t want to meddle in all sorts of things; well, there you have it again!” Yes, my dear friends, the fact that these things happen is something we must study. If we do not pay attention to this, it is not for the good of our movement. This is one case, but in the most varied nuances, in the most varied shades, these things occur again and again. And a peculiar phenomenon arises in our movement—and it is indeed necessary that I discuss this now—namely, that what is good about our movement, the new good, reveals itself less quickly; on the other hand, there are truly novel developments in our movement that have essentially never existed before and that prove: Our movement is indeed something new; but these are strange novelties.

[ 35 ] For example: Let’s suppose I had this or that in my printed books; if no copies were to fall into the wrong hands, people out there would refute these books. They may do so; but they would have to present their arguments. It would never occur to anyone out in the world who does not belong to our society to copy down what is written in my books in order to use those very sentences to prove that I am a bad person. No one out there would do that; instead, they would form their own judgments. But something entirely new is happening within our society. In our society, for example, it happens that someone accepts the entire doctrine from A to Z, as they say, approves of everything, but uses this very doctrine to refute me! You can now read the following in a manuscript that has not yet been published.

[ 36 ] You may recall that I once explained in an earlier edition of the book, which is now titled The Riddles of Philosophy—it used to be called Worldviews and Philosophies of Life in the 19th Century — explained how Le Verrier discovered Neptune based solely on calculations of Uranus, before Neptune had even been observed. Neptune was discovered at this observatory, but we knew it was there even earlier, based solely on calculations. I said this to show how something can follow from a calculation. In other words, I wanted to show that one can know facts in advance through reasoning. Recently, someone wrote that he had now applied this very convincing principle to a different field: he had found that something was amiss in our motion—that there are perturbations, just as Le Verrier found them in Uranus. If you take the general laws of gravity, and Uranus does not move as the calculation predicts, it must be disturbed by something! $o there would be disturbances in our movement. — So he puts forward the hypothesis that there is something disruptive there, something that disturbs everything. Then it occurred to him—just as it had to Le Verrier regarding Neptune—that the evil within me is what is disrupting the system! And then, just as the astronomer at the observatory had pointed his telescope at that spot, he directed his mental telescope at me and found the evil!

[ 37 ] It is a special case where, apart from my characterization, the method I have outlined is applied—a case in which one is refuted by one’s own arguments. Within the circle to which the person in question belongs, a letter was recently written—not by him, but from within the circle—stating that I have no right to expect that this would not happen, since I myself have always said that spiritual science is a common heritage, and it would be entirely wrong to think that spiritual science originates from the spiritual researcher. Well, when things become so confused, one can’t help but explain them in a confused way, of course. But this is truly a new development arising within our society. Out there, where the old ways still prevail, people refute others using their own thoughts. Within our circle, however, there are people who do not draw on their own thoughts, but rather on what they read in the cycles, and use this against me. For example, in the very letter I just mentioned, you can find quotes from Occult Science and so on throughout. It says everywhere: ‘You should read this, you should read that,’ and then you’ll see what a wicked, bad person I really am. But not in the sense that one would claim these things are bad! No, because these things are good. It is precisely these things themselves that are used to prove the point! This is a new phenomenon emerging among us, based on the theory that the teaching can be accepted, and that this very teaching can be used to slander the one who is trying to popularize it. That really is a novelty! The strangest new developments are taking place among us. This is just, isn’t it, a blatant case that I’m telling you about; on a smaller scale, it happens more or less very, very frequently, over and over again. The moment we speak out against such a thing, the threats come! Recently, a letter stated that articles and brochures would soon appear in all store windows and in all magazines, and then titles were listed that were direct threats. As I said, if we so much as utter a word, this is what happens! This is a novelty; it’s something entirely new in our movement—it hasn’t happened before. It’s essential that we pay attention to this.

[ 38 ] But now, I would say, difficulties are arising behind the scenes. For we know in advance what is bound to happen at times. Tell me, should we really not discuss a matter such as the one I have just addressed at all—should we always remain silent about it? We certainly could. But since the members themselves do not try to bring up these matters, the topic would never come up in our circle. So one must speak up. And if one does speak up, what happens? Soon you will probably read a letter somewhere—I’m putting this forward as a hypothesis for now—in which it is said: “He spoke in front of a large number of members about a private letter he had received!” — And that’s for the simple reason that there are certainly people who will immediately go around telling others here and there what I’ve said this evening. That happens time and again. If you don’t discuss it, it’s a problem; if you do discuss it, you’re encouraging the very behavior that’s constantly taking place. You know in advance what will happen.

[ 39 ] These matters must be studied. I do not wish to criticize; I merely want to point out that in a movement where spiritual science is alive—that is, where occult matters are at the heart of it—difficulties are bound to arise. But they must be taken into account. If they are not, they will continue to escalate. Certainly, one must be prepared for the attacks to become sharper and sharper. If we had remained a sect, that would not be the case. But things were meant to turn out the way they have, and that is why it is so. Yet some of what comes from outside is understandable, even though the origin of much of what comes from outside can be very clearly traced back to within. Just today we were informed that we practice eurythmy in Dornach, which consists of dancing until one loses consciousness, as with the dervishes, and many other things as well. And it is said that members themselves reported this! Members have reported that we dance until we lose consciousness! People completely unconnected to the group told a member this, but these unconnected people said they had heard it from members whose names were also given.

[ 40 ] These are the difficulties that arise from the intertwining of spiritual science with society, and which we must study. It is impossible for us to pass over these matters carelessly if we are to make progress in the right direction—unless, of course, we wish to bring about the dissolution and complete annihilation of society. Truly, it does no harm to spiritual science as such, but it does harm what spiritual science must also be when, here and there, someone comes along—forgive me for mentioning superficialities—and says: “I’m interested in much of what I’ve read, but I’ve often sat at a table in a boarding house where a lady has chattered about theosophy and told all sorts of things.” “Yes, I can’t become a member if such nonsense is being spouted—if that’s supposed to be theosophy!” — This isn’t an isolated case; it happens again and again, in one form or another.

[ 41 ] It may be misunderstood that I have discussed these matters at the end of a serious reflection today. But it is absolutely necessary that you know these things, that you pay attention to them, my dear friends! For society must be a pillar of support for spiritual science, a source of help. However, it can very easily develop in such a way that it works against what spiritual science is meant to contribute to the evolution of the world. Of course, in each individual case, one can well understand that some harm cannot be prevented at all, but we can be certain that it will manifest itself in a different way if one pays attention to it and if one truly tries—I would say—to maintain a certain line, a certain direction within oneself. It is, of course, sometimes extraordinarily difficult, but it is necessary to be firm in a certain direction at times. Then one will properly assess such novelties as I have described. They are truly novelties! It does not usually happen that one refutes someone using their own words; for the fact is so absurd, so foolish in itself, that one accepts a person’s teaching in order to refute them. Of course, when someone asserts nonsense, one can turn that nonsense against them; but that is not the point—rather, the novelty lies precisely in the fact that one accepts the teaching and uses it to refute them.

[ 42 ] These things are actually very, very common on a small scale. And not far from them lies another evil that I would also like to discuss in closing: Truly, there is hardly any other place where it happens as often as it does in our movement—that someone does something that one can, and indeed must, condemn. Now, one person or another takes sides. When it comes to someone making an accusation—one that is unfounded, perhaps even fabricated, and in which it is very easy to see that certain motives may be at play—against the leading figures of our society, against long-standing members, or against what, almost unfortunately, we still have to call the executive board: One will very rarely find anyone attempting to recognize to what extent this unfortunate executive board might actually be right; instead, people take sides with the one who is in the wrong. That is actually the rule among us: we take sides with the one who is in the wrong, and letters are written urging those who are under attack to do something so that friendship can be maintained, so that things can get back on track—we must, after all, cultivate love! When someone commits a truly unloving act against another, we do not write to the one who committed it, but to the one who was affected by it: “Why don’t you show some love? It’s so unloving of you not to do something to set things right again!” — It never even occurs to anyone to demand that the other person—the one who is in the wrong—resolve the matter! These are the kinds of peculiarities that really do occur among us.

[ 43 ] Not to mention other matters; but it may, of course, be that these, too, will have to be discussed at some point. Today, since we initially wanted to discuss this serious topic—given that we live in serious times and our movement must respond seriously to the gravity of the times—it was necessary to point out certain matters of this nature. It is necessary to pay attention to this, for things are already happening that are so unbelievable that one can hardly believe them when they are recounted. Nevertheless, we are constantly confronted with such matters. No one should misunderstand the fact that these things have been brought up; but perhaps they are worth reflecting on a little.

[ 44 ] The plan is for the break this year not to be as long as it usually has been. We may well be able to see each other again in the fall, but it’s best not to say anything definite right now, in this time of uncertainty and obstacles. And so I ask you to use what I have just tried to paint before our souls during this winter season to nourish your soul throughout this summer—to allow what we have gone through to come alive again and again in your soul through a kind of meditation, and to reflect on the fundamental conditions for integrating our spiritual scientific movement into general human culture.

[ 45 ] I should also mention that our dear friends, who so devotedly run, manage, and care for our daycare center, are a little concerned that it might, so to speak, fall into—I won’t say oblivion, but something akin to oblivion. It will, of course, be a sort of break, but it will have to get back on its feet again, and it will then be necessary to have some money again, and it will be necessary, in particular, to find dear friends who are willing to help—naturally, only those who are able to help. But perhaps there will be women who can help with cooking and other tasks. That is necessary. According to those who know what they’re talking about—because they’ve been involved in the care—the results are truly very good. The children have gained something. Something has been made of the children. That’s why I would ask that the ladies who might take on this task again in the future do so as a kind of duty of love; but once you take it on, you really must see it through. If you can’t commit to it in a way that allows you to stick with it, in a sense, then you simply shouldn’t take it on. For example, it’s not acceptable for someone who has promised to be at the daycare center at five o’clock to send a cancellation note in the afternoon; then there’s no one there. It doesn’t work that way—you have to know at least one day in advance. So I ask those friends who are able to help to get in touch with our dear Mrs. Dannenberg, who, together with others, has done so much for the daycare center, so that when winter comes, it can truly remain open.

[ 46 ] And so let us now part ways, my dear friends, with the awareness that, if we all make it a priority, we can indeed accomplish many things, so that what we take seriously may also be incorporated into the course of history in a meaningful way. We live in a time when people are making far greater sacrifices than have ever been made by such a large number of people in such a short time. We live in a difficult, sorrowful time. Let this difficulty and sorrow of the times also serve, if only a little, as a call to action: Even if it is difficult to incorporate the spiritual aspect of human development, it must still be done, and however much or how little we as individuals can do, let us do it! Let us try to understand the right way to do this, and then it will truly bring about what cannot come about on its own—what must be accomplished by human beings, even as help comes from the spiritual worlds. And so, even when we may be physically apart for a time, let us remain together in such thoughts. Those who are united in spirit are always together. They are not separated by space, nor by time—and certainly not by a period of time, however short or long. Let us remain united in thought, as we have once again sought to shed some light on what has recently been attempted from here to speak to your souls.

[ 47 ] We must take the truths connected with the Mystery of Golgotha as seriously as possible. Let us understand that we must be in the solitude of the soul—and must be there often, and again and again—if we wish to understand one thing or another. But let us also understand that we belong to humanity, and that the One who passed through the Mystery of Golgotha brought down to Earth—from spiritual heights—what He brought for humanity, for human cooperation, for human collaboration; and that He said: “Where two are united in my name, there I am in their midst.” We can prepare ourselves for what the Christ is to be for the world through us by what we experience in solitude. But we have the Christ among us only if we strive to carry what we seek in solitude out into the world as well. However, we will only carry it out into the world once we have first understood what the conditions for doing so are. Let us look at these conditions! Let us open our eyes and, above all, have the courage to admit to ourselves: This or that is the case, and it must be addressed in one way or another.

[ 48 ] When I speak of Christ here, I speak in such a way that I know: He helps because He is a living, active being. If we feel His presence among us, He will help! But we must learn His language, and His language today is the language of spiritual science. That is how it is today. And we must have the courage to champion this spiritual science, as far as we can, before ourselves and before others.

[ 49 ] Let us reflect on this during the summer, and let this be the focus of our meditation until we meet again here.