The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Twelfth Lecture

[ 1 ] In the course of our recent reflections, I have attempted to provide a kind of characterization of the developmental impulses present in recent evolution—impulses that must be carefully considered if one is to understand what is actually happening around us, which spiritual forces are active and at work, and how one should position oneself in the proper way, according to one’s own position, within the context of recent evolution. Yesterday I drew attention to how, within the human organism as a whole, there exists a fact—a fact of development—that makes it possible to understand what is actually present within our fifth post-Atlantean epoch as developmental impulses for humanity. I said that there is a certain divergence between the life ether active in the entire human organism and the solid, earthly element. This separation did not yet exist during the fourth post-Atlantean epoch, the Greco-Latin epoch. At that time, there was a much more intense connection between the earthly element present in the human being and the life ether than is now the case in the normal human condition. The earthly element—let us just consider the term quite precisely; I have, after all, mentioned it often—actually constitutes, one might say, only 5 to 6 percent of the human being in reality, for the rest—well over 90 percent—the human being is in fact a column of water, a fact that is usually not properly taken into account. This earth element—and above all the metallic element present in the human being—was more strongly bound during the fourth post-Atlantean epoch to the life ether, which is now the bearer of independent, freely ascending imaginations that rise freely from the soul, whereas the solid, earth element that separates from it leads to the external phenomena, as one says, the phenomena, as I characterized them yesterday, to be understood in a purely objective sense.

[ 2 ] With the help of the spiritual-scientific method—that is, the intimate inner method—which has often been described to you, one can also, I would say, prove through inner experimentation that this fact is true. In our external spiritual culture, little attention is paid to an intimate understanding of human phenomena. And so, when one looks at a Greek statue or takes in a Greek drama or the songs of Homer, one very easily believes that one understands them without further ado. But that is not the case at all. Anyone who is accustomed, if I may say so, to working with occult methods knows that one must, in a sense, first attune oneself to Greek culture, because the Greeks—by virtue of the different constitution I have just alluded to, that deeper interpenetration of the life-ether with the earthly element in the human being—viewed their surroundings viewed this differently than modern humans of the fifth post-Atlantean period. I would like to highlight just a few examples that arise from this different way of attuning oneself.

[ 3 ] Let us suppose that someone actually goes through what Goethe believed—and rightly so—he had gone through in Italy, and what he then expressed with the words that he had now discovered what the true secret of Greek art was: that they imitated nature in a mysterious way, in a manner that modern humanity is no longer capable of to the same degree. Yes, Goethe was not readily convinced that he could empathize with the Greeks in the same way as someone today who travels with a Baedeker guide and looks at Greek works of art, or goes to a museum and looks at Greek works of art, believing—without further reflection—that they also understand this Greek spirit. If one tries—I would say by experimenting, through a kind of experimentation—to truly attune oneself to what a Greek work of art, whether sculptural or poetic, quite clearly demands—and, incidentally, what Greek philosophy also demands—if one truly attunes oneself to this and then, using the intimate methods of the soul with which you are thoroughly familiar, examines and verifies it in an occult manner, then one finds that one has in fact, experimentally, established—albeit only as a faint echo—that deeper connection between the life-ether within oneself and the earthly element, and one feels this, I would say, intimately subtle “otherness” radiating throughout the entire organism. And if one has truly attuned oneself to Greek art or Greek philosophy—attuned oneself with one’s whole being—and can then test this inner attunement, one notices that with this different attitude, one sees a color quite differently or perceives warmth quite differently than people today see color or perceive warmth. Only modern man does not appreciate such experiments tied to the life of the soul. If one truly understands Aeschylus or Heraclitus—or even just Aristotle—then one also perceives a color differently through the understanding one brings to Heraclitus, Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Aristotle. One then realizes: While in the current state of the fifth post-Atlantean epoch one simply sees blue—blue as a shade, as a simple shade—one then, in a sense, sees blue as something more complex: as if there were a veil behind which lay darkness, and one can distinguish the darkness from the murkiness woven over it, as they say. Blue becomes more complex, but other sensations also become more complex. When one touches a warm object with one’s hand, one perceives it as if something were spreading out, expanding over the hand. Sensory perception as a whole also becomes more active. And now one realizes how differently the Greeks perceived the world through their senses. One didn’t realize this before—that the Greeks truly viewed the nature around them differently than people do today. In particular, anyone who cannot conduct such an experiment knows nothing of Greek culture. But once one begins to understand things in this way, one is able to interpret certain connections in their proper light. Before that, one always had a vague feeling that one didn’t really understand passages in Greek poetry where colors appear. Certainly, with the crude, clumsy understanding that people bring to things today, they do not notice this; but if one wants to understand correctly in all its subtle nuances, then one does notice it. One realizes that the Greeks spoke differently about colors—and about their surroundings in general. And one immerses oneself in this different way of speaking in that subtle, intimate manner I have described.

[ 4 ] So you see, it is, in a sense, experimentally possible to verify what I described to you yesterday as the unique relationship between the life ether and the earthly element in our entire organism with regard to the fifth post-Atlantean cultural period. And this progression of evolution is expressed in the various impulses I have described to you. The more deeply—and ever more deeply—one considers human evolution within the periods I have characterized, the clearer the nature of the impulses I have alluded to becomes. These impulses play out in external culture—not only in the culture of knowledge, but also in social culture. And it is precisely the fact that human beings, when they do not have access to spiritual science, are caught in the midst of these polar, opposing impulses—this is what causes people to know so little about what is actually at work there. Now, however, that which already has great significance—indeed, immense significance—for external culture extends this significance in a much more intense way into the occult forces of development, whether they act unconsciously or consciously. And we would like to take a look at that today as well.

[ 5 ] Yesterday and even earlier, we essentially distinguished between the impulse that, in the realm of knowledge and in the realm of social life, focuses primarily on observing the transformation—the transformation of natural forces and natural beings that is perceptible to the physical eye. This has, in fact, fully developed in recent times. People investigated how heat is transformed into work, how the forces of nature transform into one another, and how a being changes in form over the course of evolution. They investigated how beings come into being physically—that is, transformation and birth—and associated with this was bliss, or the striving for bliss, or, in its most one-sided form, utility. The other impulse corresponding to this was the search for evil, suffering, and pain; the directing of attention toward death; and the social quest for human redemption and liberation.

[ 6 ] It is this, I have already said, that plays out in social and everyday life of cognition, exerting a further influence on the impulses that are then expressed in the more or less supersensible forces and human aspirations. The occult striving, which is, so to speak, influenced by this impulse, has a very specific character. And this occult striving—I have already described in part how it manifests itself: It manifests itself in the fact that the spiritual is now also to be drawn into the service of external life, of external physical existence. A particularly repulsive example of this drawing of spiritual life into the service of external physical existence was, of course, the “Julia Bureau” established a few years ago, and I was able to verify for myself how people received the impulse precisely through this “Julia Office,” which William Stead established to place occult revelations in the service of ordinary life—of external physical life as it unfolds between birth and death. Here and there, notably, before lectures in various cities, I found notes in which I was told that the medium of the “Julia Office” had repeatedly instructed this or that person to contact me to obtain information about this or that, and the matters in question were indeed always things pertaining to very external life. And in other instances as well, the “Julia Office” would repeatedly contact me in a similar manner. That is one example. Many examples could be cited that, for the time being, already sufficiently demonstrate how the aim was to place spiritual manifestation in the service of ordinary physical life, in the service of materialism with its principle of the utility of ordinary physical existence. And fundamentally, what is called spiritualism follows precisely this line of thought, though I certainly do not wish to criticize the validity of this or that spiritualist phenomenon. But for people who turn to spiritualism, the very point is to bring the spirit world to light in an external, materially tangible way—that is, to comprehend the spiritual itself in a material way.

[ 7 ] And, as you know, modern science—even serious science—is far more inclined toward this materialistic understanding of the spiritual than toward the methods described by our spiritual science. How many names of distinguished scholars are repeatedly and rightly cited—scholars who have taken an interest in this or that phenomenon, which is supposed to serve as proof of the workings and interplay of the spirit through an external experiment—an experiment that can be conducted in a manner similar to those one is accustomed to performing in a laboratory or physics laboratory. Scholars have often proved incapable of truly examining these matters scientifically. They have strived, I would say, for an external, experimental, and concrete approach, one to which they were accustomed through today’s materialistic methods. But they have often proved to be extraordinarily naive—by no means less naive than a lay audience. A man once told me that he had met a very distinguished scholar, who had recounted to him all the experiences he’d had with a medium. Yet this scholar had been shown a very simple, well-known sleight-of-hand trick, and he had no idea how it was performed. Now, one should not assume that such a naive scholar—who has no idea how even the simplest sleight-of-hand trick is performed—cannot be deceived in his naivety by all the tricks and ruses that mediums, after all, draw from the subconscious realms. In any case, mediums are for the most part far less naive and far wiser—not only than the average scholar, but sometimes even than quite outstanding scholars. For what matters here is not conscious cleverness, but subconscious and unconscious cleverness; and on the other hand, it depends on gullibility toward precisely these matters. If one were to apply all the subtleties of the art of experimentation—the same ones used in the simpler fields of biology, physics, chemistry, or astronomy—to this investigation, one would not fall into the trap so often. But given the naivety that scholars in particular possess, it is hardly surprising that even scholars today devote a great deal of time to all sorts of investigations—such as how horses or dogs calculate, or how dogs even resolve religious questions. What is discussed in this field truly reveals the naivety with which people today—accustomed solely to materialistic inquiry—approach these matters. There you see how the impulse that, in materialism, manifests itself in the mere principle of utility—in the principle of investigating the transformation of natural forces and the conditions of birth—how this impulse plays a role in the relationship that human beings form with the spiritual world. Now it also plays a role in another respect. People will increasingly attempt, driven by this impulse, to uncover all the mysteries of nature relating to transformation and birth. After all, we are already seeing an endeavor—which calls itself science—emerge ever more clearly today, one that seeks to apply the principle of natural selection, introduced by materialistic Darwinism, to human beings. Thus, from this impulse, the ideal will indeed one day emerge: to discover laws governing how the most suitable man can be chosen for the most suitable woman in order to produce the most suitable offspring.

[ 8 ] Such matters are already being discussed today; I believe this emerging science is called eugenics. Such ideas are already giving rise to quite serious considerations. But this trend will only grow stronger and stronger. People will increasingly seek to strip human social life of its spiritual character and build it upon purely external, sensory, and sensually-natural conditions. Psychoanalysis, after all, arose under the influence of this impulse—that peculiar science which sets itself the task of extracting certain subconscious complexes of forces from the human organism as a whole, but which, essentially and quite naturally, deals primarily with sexual or instinctual relationships that are more or less closely or at least distantly related to sexual relationships. For one can, of course, direct the focus of investigation and attention solely toward physical-sensual events. But within these physical-sensual events—which express themselves in transformation and birth and are sought after for their bliss and utility—occult forces are nevertheless at work, and occult striving is present. But through the very way in which one approaches the spiritual—while denying it—via this pole, one comes into the vicinity of certain spiritual beings who are at work, even though one does not wish to see them, even though one does not wish to take them into account; they influence the endeavors of science and the pursuit of social ideals. These, however, are beings of whom it must be said that their higher faculties bear a certain resemblance to the lower instinctual faculties of human beings. They are peculiar spiritual beings whose presence one comes into contact with; their higher faculties—that is, their actual faculties of thought, reason, and perception—have a bond of attraction to human sexuality or other lower instinctual drives. Thus, by dealing with everything related to transformation, birth, and conditions of bliss in the manner indicated, one lives, so to speak, within a psychic aura of such beings, whose higher faculties bear a certain resemblance to our lower faculties. Consequently, the lower faculties of human beings are stimulated by this kinship, and this is also why psychoanalysis—which, after all, springs from materialistic views—actually operates under the influence of such entities, which primarily stimulate the focus on the lower instinctual life.

[ 9 ] Thus, through Pole I (see page 275), the human being enters the realm of such beings whose higher faculties are related to his lower faculties, so that in this sphere—in these types of spheres—he has the opportunity to focus his attention above all on his lower instinctual faculties. Hence the fundamental character of so much striving today, which, one might say, seeks to view the entire world solely from the perspective of the lower instincts. And yet there is a path—albeit a long one—from Freud’s materialistic psychoanalytic theories all the way up to the most spiritual, greatest, and most significant achievements of our time in this field, to the writings of the extraordinarily spiritual Laurence Oliphant, who, in his very interesting books Sympneumata and Scientific Religion has offered something that is, at first glance, extraordinarily interesting and appealing, but which is, I would say, merely the most sublimated endeavor to view the entire world, all world events—including spiritual events—through the lens of sexuality. Even though this is presented in Oliphant’s work in an extraordinarily subtle, witty, noble, and appealing way, it is, I say, nonetheless a path from Freud to Oliphant. One learns an extraordinary amount by studying Sympneumata and Scientific Religion. But one must be absolutely clear that even in these truly excellent books, one pole of what has been characterized is expressed. For where this pole reigns particularly strongly, the focus is always not so much on ascending into the spiritual worlds from one’s present human capacities—from the normal spiritual faculties of the human being—but rather on developing only one impulse: the impulse toward phenomena, toward the external and the physical. Hence, both could arise—and indeed did arise.

[ 10 ] We see such characteristics emerge in certain occult or occult-like societies of a mystical or Masonic nature in the West. There we see everywhere a certain reluctance to ascend into the spiritual worlds from the immediate, present characteristics of human beings—from their normal characteristics—and, to a much greater extent, a tendency to use the normal characteristics of present-day humanity to place them more in the service of sensory utility and practical benefit. In contrast, there arises an effort to satisfy the spiritual—which one does not wish to seek directly—in other ways. That is to say, one comes to take up the spiritual where it still exists in an old, atavistic form, to bring it forth from there. The impulse will grow ever stronger to combine what is attained through mediumistic means for the sake of utility with, through all manner of occult fraternities, that which is called “ancient wisdom”—which once entered humanity in an atavistic form—or what certain peoples, who have remained at an earlier stage of development, have preserved from earlier times.

[ 11 ] We can therefore see how Blavatsky’s extraordinarily significant abilities, which originated in the East, were initially intended to be linked with Western aspirations. After that had failed, after Blavatsky—as I have mentioned—had set such conditions in one Western society that they could not be met, and after she had been expelled from another Western society, the whole matter was then steered—this is a long story that will one day be told here in greater detail—in such a way that, so to speak, something Indian or Indian-like was instilled into her psyche. Thus, one seeks to combine what one wishes to hold onto—the limitation to the principle of utility—with what can be adopted from the abilities of people of another era. Except that, of course, the results of these abilities from another era must then be adapted to modern needs—those modern needs I described yesterday—and which correspond specifically to the principle of power, the principle of amassing power through all manner of statutes. And so, very often—especially in such occult fraternities, and something similar was also what the Theosophical Society had been striving for more and more clearly—the aim is the acquisition of power, precisely through the incorporation of whatever may emerge as a result of ancient, atavistic human abilities. This impulse, which I am describing here, is then placed within the peculiar context of the modern era, so that what sometimes arises from entirely different sources appears in the guise of the new age. It can then be used to expand power, but not for the kind of knowledge or wholesome social life that is characteristic of our time.

[ 12 ] Those, incidentally, who are deeply immersed in ancient contexts—who are actively engaged in them, who have truly remained rooted in earlier contexts and cultural periods—speak quite differently about the impulses of these cultural epochs than those who absorb them indirectly through all manner of organizations representing one pole of these impulses. I have already mentioned what a significant book Ku Hung-Ming has written in connection with the immediate events of the present. Ku Hung-Ming is an educated Chinese man, a Chinese man who apparently truly stands at the forefront of contemporary Chinese education. Now, not only is all sorts of Indian, dilettantish, and other traditional material found in such Western occult fraternities—where tradition is merely invoked to exert power without the inner grasp of the matters at hand—but this is also the case with Chinese thought. For the Chinese, as I have often explained, are descendants of the last phase of Atlantean development, and what they have attained in the post-Atlantean era bears everywhere the stamp of a return to Atlantean characteristics, even if transposed into the post-Atlantean era. As a result, a person like Ku Hung-Ming stands within a completely different spiritual context than the European. One could say that while Europeans fail to see everything that surrounds them, he—through his independence from what is alive within Europe, particularly in the immediate present—naturally perceives certain things much more precisely and much more intensely. For this reason, Ku Hung-Ming’s book, The Spirit of the Chinese People and the Way Out of War, should be given serious consideration in Europe; many aspects of it truly deserve attention, because, due to the circumstance just mentioned, it is more unbiased than, in essence, anything judged within Europe itself. Thus, from his immersion in Chinese culture, Ku Hung-Ming is still aware of the peculiar consequence that arises from the fact that China, like so many ancient societies, has preserved the strict boundary between the uneducated and the educated. As Ku Hung-Ming describes, this is brought about by language, and between the uneducated—who essentially speak a language of their own—and the educated, there is no “semi-educated” class in between, a class that has played such a major role in Europe since the time when the last remnants of ancient knowledge disappeared, when even the highest level of education was still based on Latin. China has, of course, preserved this distinction—and will continue to do so for a long time—namely, that there is a clear contrast between the uneducated and the educated, with no semi-educated class in between. Consequently, a Chinese scholar such as Ku Hung-Ming has a keen eye for everything brought about by the semi-educated, and in an essay also included in this book, he speaks very eloquently on precisely this subject. He says: “The spoken or colloquial language is for the uneducated, and the written language is intended only for the truly educated. In this way, there are no semi-educated people. This is the reason why the Chinese insist on having two languages. The consequences of semi-education can be clearly seen in today’s Europe and America, where, since Latin fell out of use, the sharp distinction between the spoken and written languages has disappeared; since then, a class of semi-educated people has emerged who have the right to use the same language as the truly educated...”

[ 13 ] I ask that you, of course, bear in mind that I do not wish to agree with this Chinese man, nor do I wish to say the same thing; rather, I merely wish to draw attention to how he views certain things with greater objectivity. Compare the following passage with much of what you can read today. The point here is not to claim that the semi-educated have no right to exist. European culture has necessarily produced them; of course, they are part of European culture. Nevertheless, what Ku Hung-Ming so beautifully says holds true:

[ 14 ] “Since then, a class of semi-educated people has emerged that has the right to use the same language as the truly educated—a language that speaks of civilization, freedom, neutrality, militarism, and Pan-Slavism—without understanding the true meaning of these words in the slightest. Instead of saying that Prussian militarism is a danger to civilization, I believe it would be more accurate to regard the semi-educated—that rabble of semi-educated people in today’s world—as the real threat to civilization.”

[ 15 ] You can see that someone who views things differently is capable of forming judgments other than those often passed today; for there is much to be said for the fact that today, the semi-educated talk a great deal about freedom, civilization, neutrality, and so on, without taking the trouble to understand these things in any deeper way. The Chinese see this, and they also rightly observe that the semi-educated in all parts of Europe bear a large share of the blame for the current conditions and events. These connections will be much better understood later on. But it would be good if at least some people were to recognize them already now.

[ 16 ] But this Chinese man also sees many other things with extraordinary clarity. And what is peculiar is that even the intellect of such a Chinese man—you can see it in him, in Ku Hung-Ming, who preserves an ancient, atavistic culture and applies his modern, developed intellect to it—even this intellect, I would say, operates on a more intimate level. You can see this in what appeals to him in European culture. For example, there are many things he does not like at all. The European social order is, after all, essentially anarchy to him; yet the police officer—he likes that figure extraordinarily well. You can see that he has an exceptionally keen insight into many things; but I’d like to use a specific example to illustrate how this Chinese man is able to gain insight into European conditions. He says: “Yes, the Europeans have something that China has never developed—lawyers and other people who engage in social, governmental, and public life, even rising to the very highest echelons of the administration and constitution of this public life. What do these people do? According to European standards, they need the police officer. The police officer is paid fifteen schillings a week and told that he is necessary for social order. He barely makes ends meet on these fifteen schillings. What must he have developed, Ku Hung-Ming asks, so that he does not, on some fine night, turn into an anarchist—this police officer, who will always have a predisposition toward it due to his pay—what must he possess? He must possess a certain sense of honor that has been instilled in him, and this sense of honor must lead him to feel that, for his fifteen schillings, he is saving society. For that is what has been drummed into him. He is told: He is necessary for this. — But what is actually achieved by this? Those lawyers and other people who hired him, says Ku Hung-Ming, need him. He doesn’t need the whole thing, but the others need him—and they need him specifically to safeguard their assets worth thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, and millions. If they didn’t have him, to whom they give fifteen shillings, their assets worth millions would not be able to remain theirs. Well, that is their actual purpose—they need him for themselves, says this Chinese man—so that the policeman must actually be brainwashed into believing something that deceives him about the real purpose: that he is actually there to protect the owners. That is to say, when something like this is laid bare, a large part of European culture, in his view, is actually based on fraud. Yes, Ku Hung-Ming calls it fraud. And so he really does come to pass judgment from his point of view—as I’ve already hinted at—which should at least be given some thought. He says:

[ 17 ] “I truly believe that the peoples of Europe will find the solution to the great problem of civilization here in China after this war”—for he has no faith whatsoever in any of the solutions proposed by the Europeans themselves. — “Here in China,” I say again, “there is an invaluable but hitherto unsuspected heritage of civilization, namely, the true Chinese. They possess the secret of a new civilization that the peoples of Europe will need after this great war—namely, what I have called the religion of the good citizen, whose first principle is to believe that human nature is good; to believe in the power of goodness, in the power and efficacy of what the American Emerson calls the law of love and justice. But what is the law of love?”

[ 18 ] In fact, he says that it is necessary for the European peoples to call upon the Chinese to provide what constitutes the foundation of a new civilization in Chinese culture. Well, we certainly have no need for the Chinese within Europe, nor do we wish to summon them, but the point is to understand how, from a certain perspective, such judgments can indeed arise precisely from an atavistic intellectual culture and are even, in certain respects, far more unbiased than the judgments that arise at the opposite pole in Europe itself.

[ 19 ] The other pole, which I referred to as the second pole and of which I said that its relationships are oriented toward evil, suffering, pain, death, redemption, or liberation, strives to overcome precisely that which constitutes salvation for the other. This second pole strives to overcome that which develops in human beings between birth and death—that which develops in such a way that human beings can perceive this unfolding process with their external senses. While mere utility—the utility that is the god of the true bourgeois—develops through the first pole, sacramentalism develops to the fullest extent under the second pole. That is to say, a way of life develops that seeks to view reality from a spiritual perspective, and, through this spiritual view of reality, to cause reality itself to disappear to a greater or lesser extent. What the second pole strives for is still in its early stages, whereas the other—what the first pole strives for—has advanced quite far in Europe. The first pole strives to produce substances in the chemical laboratory that can then be used in the most diverse ways for external utility, for real utility, or for imagined utility. The second pole will increasingly strive not to realize this external utility, but rather to treat the external world more symbolically—in such a way that the spiritual within it finds expression. Even in social and political life, people will seek to find symbolic connections, meaningful connections. Just as, when occult forces come into play, the first pole leads one into the vicinity of beings whose higher spiritual powers are akin to man’s lower instincts, so this other pole, with its sacramentalism, leads one into the vicinity of beings whose lower powers are akin to man’s higher powers—the powers of human reason, human intellect, human psychological organization, and human spiritual organization. Thus, the other pole leads into the vicinity of, and into the company of, spiritual beings whose lower faculties are related to the higher human faculties. The consequence of this will be that, when it comes to the unfolding of occult powers arising from this pole, from this polar impulse, a striving will arise that will attempt to tear the higher supersensible elements of human nature away from the sensual human being.

[ 20 ] But then, as the human being breaks away into an imaginative, visionary life, he enters an aura in which spiritual beings develop impulses that are their lower instincts. This gives rise to a peculiar phenomenon, which consists in the fact that the human being, as it were, seeks to develop ever more strongly—and will be driven to do so more and more—a certain role as an observer, through which he acts as a connecting link between supersensible and subsensible beings. Thus, what enables the human being to become a connecting link between the supersensible and the subsensible world is developed particularly strongly here. Human beings become this connecting link, and they develop within themselves the urge to make themselves, as it were, an instrument through which certain supersensible beings can act upon the sub-sensory forces—those forces that lie hidden within sensory phenomena. Within sensory phenomena lie forces similar to the electrical, magnetic, and other forces that already exist today. Now, the human being who one-sidedly surrenders to this impulse seeks to transcend the sensory world—the world of phenomena—directly. In doing so, however, he runs the very risk of severing a bridge, of severing the connecting link with the supersensory world of the higher hierarchies, which send their forces down into the sub-sensory world. The impulse to develop something through sacramentalism, through symbolic action—that is this very same impulse. For whenever sacramentalism occurs, whenever symbolic action takes place, forces flow from the higher worlds into the lower worlds and back again. This other polar impulse proceeds unilaterally within this flow from the supersensible world toward the subsensible world, effectively bypassing the sensible world. It is therefore natural that, within this Impulse II (see page 275, right), the need will arise more and more to become a vehicle for spiritual beings or spiritual forces.

[ 21 ] It is, of course, a bit of a predicament when one is asked to go into details on this subject. But given everything we have discussed so far, hints such as those I have given you should suffice to show how, on the one hand, utilitarianism and, on the other, sacramentalism can develop. On the one hand, utilitarianism, the bourgeois ideal; on the other, sacramentalism, with what belongs to the human spiritual disposition toward sacramentalism or symbolism, of which the pilgrim stands as the ideal.

I	II
Transformation	Evil, Suffering
Birth Bliss (Utility)	Death Salvation (Liberation)
Utility	Sacramentalism
Freud	supersensible world
Laurence Oliphant	subsensible world

[ 22 ] We see what this synthesis must consist of—a synthesis that unites both one-sidednesses by overcoming them at the same time. In the period following the fifth post-Atlantean epoch, on the one hand, there would be people who work solely toward utility and also place all spiritual powers solely in the service of utility, and on the other hand, a certain type of person who, with their entire spirit, wishes to remain solely within the spiritual sphere and treat everything pertaining to physical life—not in accordance with the way the forces of nature operate—but rather in a sacramental manner, arranging it, so to speak, sacramentally.

[ 23 ] Even today, the various ideals that people set for themselves—without their realizing it—are still under the influence of these two polar impulses. It will become an increasingly essential part of spiritual scientific endeavor to understand how these polar impulses come into play in areas that many people today do not believe are affected by them. For those who see through to the heart of things, a great many endeavors contain, on the one hand, what I have characterized as Impulse I; but in many cases, what I have shown to be Impulse II is also already shining through.

[ 24 ] H.P. Blavatsky was, in fact, placed within this entire mechanism. She began with aspirations—or rather, forces—that were driven by Impulse II. Under this Impulse II, everything within her arose that drove her toward the sacramental aspect, which she indeed developed in a certain way; and under the influence of Impulse I, everything arose that then led to the materialization of what is called the Theosophical Society. It would take us too far afield today to once again examine everything concerning the personality of Blavatsky, around whom a whirlwind of both Impulses flared up with particular intensity, leading her into all her individual significant manifestations as well as into her errors. Nor is this the time to bring to a complete conclusion what we have now begun. We will continue here next Saturday when we meet again.