The Rudolf Steiner Archive

The Karma of Materialism IV

[ 1 ] The man who was one of the most devoted members of our spiritual movement—whom you were able to see here in our circle almost every week throughout the war years—we have had to bid farewell to him on this physical plane in recent days: our dear friend Herman Joachim. When we approach the event of death—which we experience in those closest to us—imbued with the spirit that arises from what we seek as spiritual-scientific insights, we ourselves discover something of what should become our own in relation to our position and our relationship to the spiritual world. On the one hand, in such a case, we look back on what the departed has come to mean to us during the time we were able to spend with him, as we were privileged to be his fellow seekers; but at the same time we look forward into the world that has received the soul which was united with us and is to remain united with us, because bonds of a spiritual nature—which are inseparable from the physical event of death—unite us with it.

[ 2 ] Herman Joachim—in this case, the name is something that shone far and wide, preceding the personality we have lost to the physical plane; a name deeply connected to the artistic development of the nineteenth century; a name associated with the most beautiful expression of aesthetic principles in music, and I need not elaborate here on what the name Joachim means for the spiritual development of recent times. But if the one who has now departed from the physical plane into the spiritual world had entered our midst with all his incomparable, beautiful, and great qualities, yet with a completely unknown name: those who had the good fortune to know him and to unite their own aspirations with his, they would have counted him among the most valuable personalities of their lives here on Earth, solely because of what radiated from the power of his own worth, from the vastness and radiance of his own soul. But it was precisely in what this soul was to other souls in a purely human sense that what had so magnificently manifested in him as the purest artistic and spiritual element inherited from his father continued to work within this soul. One might say that in every spiritual expression, in every revelation of thought by Herman Joachim, there was, on the one hand, this artistic quality, which was, on the other hand, strengthened and sustained by a genuine, most intense spirituality of will, of feeling, and of the striving for spiritual knowledge. Just as his father’s great intentions flow through his blood, so there was something in this man’s spiritual atmosphere that was beautifully foreshadowed by the fact that Herman Grimm—that outstanding, that unique representative of Central European spiritual life—had laid his blessing upon the child being baptized, Herman Joachim, as he was Herman Joachim’s godfather. And ever since I knew this, it has been a cherished thought of mine, as you will understand from much of what I have said in this circle specifically about the spiritual influence that has emanated from the personality of Herman Grimm in recent times. When a dear friend of Herman Grimm’s died, Herman Grimm wrote some beautiful words; when Walther Robert-Tornow—who was entirely unique in his peculiar personal individuality—died, Herman Grimm wrote: “He departs from the company of the living; he is received into the company of the dead. It is as if one must also inform these dead of who is joining their ranks.” And this feeling—that upon such a passing one feels compelled to inform even the dead of who is joining their ranks—Herman Grimm did not mean solely in reference to the person for whom he wrote these words; rather, he meant it as a feeling inherent in the human soul whenever a loved one departs from the physical world into the spiritual world. We then look back on what we were able to experience symptomatically with the departed, and regard this, as it were, as window openings through which we can gaze into an infinite being; for every individual human soul is, after all, an infinite being, and what we are allowed to experience with it is always only as if we were looking through windows into a boundless expanse. But there are indeed moments in human life—when several people have shared in that human life—in which one is permitted to gain deeper insights into a human individuality. Then it is always as if, precisely in such moments when we are allowed to glimpse into human souls, everything that constitutes the mystery of the spiritual world were to reveal itself with a very special intensity. In expansive visions, imbued with feeling, much of what lives in ordinary human life—the great, the powerful, and the spiritually aspiring—is then revealed to us. |

[ 3 ] I would now like to recall one such moment, because I find it symptomatic for me—but in an objective way, with regard to the essence of what has passed. Years ago in Cologne, when he was spiritually united with us at a moment of great significance, I was able to see in conversation with him—even though we had only recently become acquainted—how this man had connected the innermost part of his soul with that which, as a spiritual being and weaving force, permeates the cosmos; how he had, if I may say so, found the great connection between human soul responsibility and the spiritual -divine powers—which are connected to the wisdom of the guidance of the worlds—and with which the individual human being finds himself confronted in particularly significant moments when he asks himself the question: How do you integrate yourself into that which, as spiritual guidance of the worlds, stands before the eye of your soul? How may you think from within your self-awareness, knowing that you yourself are a responsible link in the chain of world spirituality? — That he was able, in all depth, in all—if I may use the word—soulful thoroughness, to perceive, experience, and intuitively recognize such a moment as the embodiment of humanity’s relationship to the spirituality of the world—this was revealed to me at that time by Herman Joachim’s soul.

[ 4 ] He continued to go through difficult times after that. The period when that unspeakable calamity—from which we all suffer—struck weighed heavily on him, after he had lived for years in France, in Paris, and had found his beloved partner there. He had to return—out of a sense of duty, though at the same time naturally regarding this duty as intrinsically linked to his very being—to his former profession as a German officer. Since then, he has fulfilled this duty in an important and significant position, not only with a faithful sense of duty but also with the most devoted expertise, and in such a way that, within this profession, he was able to act in the highest and truest sense of the word as a humanitarian, showing profound compassion for others; for which many of those who benefited from this compassionate work will cherish the most grateful memories. I myself often recall the conversations I was able to have with Herman Joachim during these three years of mourning and human suffering, in which he revealed himself to me as a man who was able to follow current events with comprehensive understanding, who was far from allowing his understanding to be clouded by thoughts of hatred or love toward one side or the other, where such feelings of hatred or love would have impaired an objective assessment of current events; yet, even though this understanding perspective on our times could not shield him from all the burdens weighing upon us during that period, he carried within his heart, drawing from the depths of the world’s spiritual essence, strong and steadfast hopes and confidence in the outcome.

[ 5 ] Herman Joachim was among those who, on the one hand, absorbed spiritual science in a completely objective, rational manner—as it should be—but who, on the other hand, did not allow this rational approach to detract from their deep spiritual immersion, their profound spiritual grasp, or their immediate devotion to the Spirit, so that this spiritual grasp, this immediate surrender to the Spirit, is far from ever leading such a soul into what can be most dangerous to us: fantasy, fanaticism. Such fantasy, such fanaticism ultimately arises only from a certain voluptuous egoism. This soul had nothing to do with egotistical mysticism. Instead, it was all the more concerned with the great spiritual ideals, with the great, transformative ideas of spiritual science.

[ 6 ] Herman Joachim was constantly thinking about what could be done to directly translate the ideals of the spiritual sciences into life in his own sphere. He, who was a member of Freemasonry and who had gained deep insights into the essence of Freemasonry as well as into the nature of Masonic associations, had set himself the grand goal of truly achieving what can be achieved through a spiritual permeation of Masonic formalism with the spiritual essence of spiritual science. Everything that Freemasonry had accumulated over the centuries in the form of profound insights—which had, however, become formulaic, one might say crystallized—had been revealed to Herman Joachim to a very special degree through his high position within Freemasonry. But it was precisely in this position that he found the opportunity to place what he had discovered within the proper human context and to infuse the traditions he sought to revitalize with that which can come only from the power of spiritual science. And when one knows how Herman Joachim had been working in this direction in recent years during these difficult times; when one is somewhat familiar with the seriousness of his work and the dignity of his thinking in this direction; when one is somewhat aware of the strength of his will and the breadth of his work in this field—then one understands what the physical plane has lost in him. On these and other similar occasions, I could not help but think again and again of how an American, who was recently counted among the spiritual leaders, recorded the saying: “No one is irreplaceable; when one steps down, another immediately takes his place.” — It goes without saying that such Americanism can only spring from the deepest ignorance of true life. For the truth says precisely the opposite. And the truth, measured against reality as I now mean it, tells us rather: No human being can truly be replaced in regard to all that he was to life. And it is precisely when we see this in outstanding examples, as in this case, that we are deeply moved by this truth; for it is precisely in our case—the case of Herman Joachim—that we are so truly reminded of the karma of human life. And this understanding of human life’s karma—the karmic perspective on the great questions of destiny—is, after all, the only thing that allows us to come to terms with it when we see such a passing before the eye of our soul, occurring at a relatively early stage of human life and in the midst of such serious, necessary life’s work.

[ 7 ] But there was something else I often had to tell myself during those days as I bid farewell to my dear friend, after watching, day by day, as his soul slowly departed from the realms where it was meant to accomplish such important work, and moved on to other realms—realms where we must seek it through the power of our spirit, yet from which it will return to us as a helper, stronger and more powerful. I had to think: All those daring ideas of karmic necessity—all those that demand spiritual strength from human beings—they present themselves to our soul when we experience such a death. We must then often say things that can only be said within the movement of our spirit, but which, within that movement, also give the human soul the great power that reaches beyond death and life; that transcends both.

[ 8 ] Herman Joachim’s soul stands before me, alive. I saw it standing there, alive, engaged in a spiritual task undertaken out of the fullest freedom. I see it standing there, alive, as it takes on this task. Then the death of this soul appears to me as something it voluntarily accepts, because from another world it can take on the task even more strongly, even more powerfully, and in a manner even more appropriate to necessity. And in the face of such events, it could almost become a duty to speak also of the necessity of individual death at very specific moments. I know that what I am expressing here may not be a comfort or a source of strength for everyone. But I also know that there are souls—even today—who can find solace in this thought in the face of so much that exists in our time to our deep sorrow, to our deep suffering; a suffering that arises from seeing how difficult it has become to fulfill the great, necessary tasks within the physical world, within the materialistic currents in which we live embodied in our physical bodies. So let this also become a thought that, little by little, may grow dear to us even in the midst of our pain and grief: that someone may well have chosen death on the physical plane in order to be able to fulfill their task all the more fully. Let us then measure this thought against the pain that our dear friend, Herman Joachim’s wife, must now feel and endure; let us measure it against our own pain over the loss of our dear, cherished friend; and let us try to ennoble our own pain by placing it alongside a great thought, such as the one I have just expressed; a thought that, while it need not alleviate the pain or diminish it, can nevertheless shine into this pain like something that radiates from the sun of human knowledge itself and teaches us to penetrate human necessities and the inevitabilities of fate. In such a context, an event like this truly becomes, for us, something that is capable of bringing us into the proper relationship with the spiritual world.

[ 9 ] Let us draw strength from such thoughts for the inclinations we wish to cultivate: the inclinations of our spiritual powers toward the present and future abode of the beloved soul; then we will never be able to lose the soul, and we will be actively united with it. And when we grasp the full power of this thought—a person who was able to love his surroundings as few others could, who accepted his death out of an ironclad necessity—then this will be a thought worthy of our worldview. Let us thus honor our dear friend; let us thus remain united with him. The one who has remained here on the physical plane as his life partner shall learn through us that we will be united with her in our thoughts of our dear one, that we wish to remain her friends and loved ones.

[ 10 ] My dear friends, Herman Joachim’s death has, in a sense, followed many other losses we have suffered within our society during these difficult times. I have not spoken about one of the most painful losses until now, because I am too deeply involved in it myself and have lost too much through it for this personal connection to the loss to allow me to address certain aspects of it.

[ 11 ] Many of you here will, I believe, fondly remember our faithful member, our dear member, Dr. Steiner’s sister, Olga von Sivers, whom we have also lost from the physical plane in recent months. Certainly, outwardly she was not a person who could reveal herself through immediate, more tangible effects; she was a person who was modesty through and through. But my dear friends, if I set aside what is for myself and for Dr. Steiner a painful, irreplaceable loss—if I refrain from describing this—I may nevertheless point out one thing in this particular case: Olga von Sivers was among those of our spiritual companions who, from the very beginning, embraced with the warmest of hearts precisely that which constitutes the innermost essence of our anthroposophically oriented spiritual science. She embraced this anthroposophically oriented spiritual science out of the deepest understanding and out of her soul’s innermost connection with it. And Olga von Sivers was such a person that when she embraced something of this kind, she embraced it with her whole being. And she was a complete human being. Those who were close to her knew this. She was equally strong in her rejection of everything that now, in a mystical-theosophical way, distorts human progress and leads spiritual life astray in all manner of ways. She possessed a strong power of discernment between that which, as a legitimate part of our time, seeks to become integrated into humanity’s progress and to work for it, and that which, arising from all manner of other impulses and motives, now presents itself as theosophical and the like—as all sorts of mystical pursuits. With regard to the original grasping of the very truth toward which we ourselves strive, Olga von Sivers can be counted among the most exemplary of our fellow seekers. Nor was she ever in the least inclined, by her very nature, to neglect even in the slightest the tasks of her life—her outer life, her immediate daily life, the duties of that immediate daily life that were often difficult for her—nor to shirk these duties even in the slightest by immersing herself fully and undividedly in our spiritual movement. And what she—I may say—took into her very soul from the very beginning with full understanding as the essence of our movement, she passed on to others. Wherever she was granted the opportunity to convey our teaching to others, she devoted herself to this task in a truly exemplary manner—devoting herself to it in such a way that she knew how to infuse the power of the ideas through the loving, immensely benevolent nature of her being, so as to influence humanity through these two aspects: the power of the ideas—and the unique way in which she conveyed them through her personality.

[ 12 ] That is how she remained true to her principles, even when those borders separated her from us—borders that today so terribly stand in the way of what, in human terms, often belongs so closely together. These borders did not prevent her from working for our cause even in the region that is now considered enemy territory in Central Europe. Her soul was weighed down by harrowing experiences—all the horrors of that terrible war, during which she carried out truly humanitarian work right up until her final weeks of illness, never thinking of herself, always working for those entrusted to her in the midst of the terrible events of that war, carrying out Samaritan service in the noblest sense, imbuing this service with the very essence of her thoughts and aspirations drawn from our spiritual movement. Although she was close to me, I feel compelled, from the depths of my moved soul, to share this very aspect of her character—that of a devoted and self-sacrificing member, which Olga von Sivers had undoubtedly been since the founding of this movement. It was a dear and beautiful thought for Dr. Steiner and for me that, should times other than our present sad ones ever come, we might once again have this person in our immediate vicinity. Here, too, an ironclad necessity has decided otherwise.

[ 13 ] In this case, too, death is something that enters our lives—if we seek to understand these lives spiritually—clarifying and illuminating them. Certainly, there is much to object to in what prevails in our society, in what our society brings to light. But we also have such things to record, such things before our souls, such experiences to live through—things that stand around us as the most beautiful, the highest, and the most meaningful, arising precisely from the power that permeates the anthroposophical movement. Today I would like to speak to you about such examples. And some of you will probably also remember a member who, although not a member of our branch, I may perhaps commemorate today, since she often appeared in this branch among the sisters and was known to many here: our Johanna Arnold, who recently passed from the physical plane into the spiritual world. Her sister, who was an equally devoted member of our movement, preceded her two years ago.

[ 14 ] While working on the pamphlet against a vicious attacker of our movement, Professor Max Dessoir, I found myself repeatedly coming across the claim that I have no connection to science, and that the vast majority of my followers completely renounce any independent thought. Well, a person like Johanna Arnold is the most vivid proof of what a colossal lie lies in such a statement by a professor who is ignorant. The greatness that lay in Johanna Arnold’s manner of passing into the spiritual world, but also the inner greatness of her entire soul’s devotion to spiritual science—these are truly living proofs of how this spiritual science is received by people of the highest worth. Johanna Arnold’s life was one that imposed trials upon a person, but one that also strengthened and steeled that person. But it was also a life that revealed a great soul. Not only was Johanna Arnold a strong pillar of support for her branch and neighboring circles during her time as a member of the anthroposophical movement, not only did she work so beautifully in the Rhine region, working beautifully in collaboration with many other personalities—one of whom was, in fact, recently snatched from us and taken up into the spiritual realm: Mrs. Maud Künstler, the unforgettable one, who was so deeply and wholly connected to our movement—not only did Johanna Arnold work in her own way from the time she became involved with the anthroposophical movement, but she also revealed within this movement herself a strong, vigorous soul. She was seven years old when, with noble self-sacrifice and courage, she saved the life of her older sister, who was on the verge of drowning—at the age of seven. She spent years in England, and the way life had shaped her shows how life became not only a great teacher and a source of strength and vitality for the soul, but also a revealer of all that life can endure, so that she revealed precisely what the soul longs for as the Divine-Spiritual. Through her great and powerful soul, Johanna Arnold became a benefactor in her community for the anthroposophists, for whom she became a guide; she became a dear friend to us because we could see what a powerful force was anchored within our movement through her. To understand the meaning of this time, to understand what is actually happening to humanity now: how often, in recent years, since this terrible time has broken upon us, has Johanna Arnold herself posed this significant question to me. She was constantly preoccupied with the idea: What does this time of the most terrible trial actually want from the human race, and what can we—each and every one of us—do to get through this time of trial in the right way? No daily event connected to the great currents of history passed unnoticed by Johanna Arnold’s soul. But she was also able to place everything within the larger context, and she knew how to relate everything to the spiritual development of humanity as a whole. Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, and Robert Hamerling were the subjects of her intensive study, to which she devoted herself in order to unravel the mysteries of human existence. Oh, there is so much alive within our movement—we realize this on such an occasion—so much that deepens human life, human activity, and human development. And if anyone is living proof that it is a frivolous lie to claim that our movement dispenses with independent thought: Johanna Arnold is such living proof, and through her strength, her devotion, her loyalty to the spiritual science movement, and her determination to penetrate the mysteries of humanity through serious scientific work and serious intellectual effort, she stands as an exemplary figure before all who have come to know her. I am personally grateful to all those who have expressed this so beautifully on the occasion of our friend’s passing. And the sister who is united with us here today—and who has seen both of her sisters pass away in such a short time—may take with her the assurance that we, united with her in thought, wish to remain faithful to the one who has passed from the physical world into the spiritual world, and that we wish to preserve not only the memory of her but also a living communion with her.

[ 15 ] My dear friends, even such reflections—which tie in directly with what certainly touches us deeply—are part of the whole—and I may say this while setting aside any pedantic connotations of the word—of our living study. We see, especially in the present, many things fading away about which we do not know, in the same sense, whether they can find a spiritual revival, as we say of the human soul. We see so many hopes, so many expectations fading away. Now one might well ask: why, when one looks more clearly into the course of human development, does one entertain unjustified hopes, unjustified expectations? But hopes and expectations are forces—active forces. We must cultivate them. We must not refrain from doing so merely because we fear they might not be fulfilled; rather, we must cultivate them because, when we cherish them—whether they are fulfilled or not—they act as forces, because something comes of them. But we must also come to terms with the fact that sometimes nothing comes of them. One would so dearly like to place hopes in certain people when they begin, even from just one angle, to develop a warmth for understanding the spiritual world. And so one does place those hopes. Yet in our materialistic age, many such hopes vanish, and in my recent reflections I have described to you the deeper reasons why such hopes vanish.

[ 16 ] We must always be clear about this: no matter how great what is called “human courage” may be in many areas of the external physical world today, in the spiritual realm we find human courage very rarely these days. That is why examples such as those we have cited today are truly exemplary; they ought to serve as models even in the outward aspects of our society and our spiritual movement. Indeed, it is becoming clear to many people today—I would say—that materialism is no longer the way forward. But to penetrate into that which must be penetrated—if humanity is not to be led toward ruin rather than salvation in its cultural development—to penetrate into concrete, genuine spiritual science—this is precisely what I have often referred to as “people’s inner psychological complacency.” Sometimes people come incredibly close to stepping through the gateway into spiritual science; but it is, fundamentally, this complacency that prevents them from making their souls so flexible, so malleable, so rich in content that the ideas of the spiritual world—the true contents of the spiritual world—can be grasped. A general enthusiasm for mystical world unity, a general declamation that “science alone is not enough; faith must come”—this is something that is common among many people today. But the courage to truly delve into the concrete details of observing and describing what the spiritual world behind our sensory world is—this courage is often lacking.

[ 17 ] Last winter I told you about Hermann Bahr, and how close he actually came to penetrating the spiritual world through his last books, *Expressionism*, and his novel *Himmelfahrt*. I also spoke then about Hermann Bahr’s path. It cannot be denied that, despite his many vacillations and the many changes in his life, this man ultimately found his way toward the spiritual. But a text he has just sent me as his latest work is indeed very curious; it is titled “Reason and Science,” a special reprint from *Kultur*, the yearbook of the Austrian Leo Society, 1917, published by Verlagsanstalt Tyrolia, Innsbruck. It explores how modern humanity, growing out of an older quest for knowledge, has come to rely more on reason alone, to seek the divine-spiritual through reason, and to seek the interconnectedness of the worlds through it. Hermann Bahr also begins with the question: What has become of this reason, of this pursuit of reason, which in the eighteenth century was called the Enlightenment and which, indeed, permeated much of the nineteenth century? Right at the beginning of his essay, he says:

[ 18 ] “Before the war, the West believed its peoples shared common ground. There was Cosmopolis, the realm of the good Europeans, the glittering world of millionaires, dilettantes, and aesthetes, of stateless existences in sleeper cars, on the blue coasts, and in the grand hotels, of rootless globetrotters. There was the proud republic of minds in science and art. There was international law. There was humanity. There were international organizations of labor, trade, finance, thought, taste, custom, and whim. There were purposes and goals common to all the peoples of the West. They believed they possessed a common means to achieve these shared purposes: human reason. Through it, they hoped, humanity would one day, by joining forces, gradually become capable of grasping the whole truth—a truth that might remain beyond the reach of the individual. The war has robbed us of all these commonalities. They are gone.”

[ 19 ] Hermann Bahr once posed this question to himself, and he already brings our present soul into connection with humanity’s one-sided pursuit of reason. He recalls an interesting fact about Goethe that is truly fascinating. While in Bohemia, Goethe observed a peculiarly shaped mountain, the Kammerbühl, and his observation led him to conclude that the mountain must be of volcanic origin. Goethe was firmly convinced that the mountain must have been formed by ancient volcanic forces. But there were others who did not share this view; instead, they assumed the mountain was of a neptunian nature, having been driven upward by sedimentary forces and the forces of water. Goethe believed one thing—that the mountain was of volcanic origin—but he could not convince those who held a different opinion of the correctness of his assumption. He felt that it was a certain inner impulse that told him: “To me, the mountain appears volcanic,” while the others said: “To us, the mountain appears sedimentary by its very nature.” And Hermann Bahr now says to himself: “So we see from this that entirely different impulses drive human judgment—impulses that lie beyond reason.” But not all are like Goethe’s, he argues; yet all, when they believe they are following reason, are determined by their impulses. A bygone era—the Middle Ages—he continues, led people to believe that they could arrive at thoughts about the world through faith. But now faith has become a mere phrase; at most, it still shapes lives removed from science. It is within this realm that human impulses operate. But what impulses are at work among people today? Hermann Bahr lists some of these impulses, which lead people to believe that they are merely following their reason; yet in truth, they are following their impulses, their emotions, and so on. The Americans, for example, sought a certain strong impulse. They called it pragmatism. They wanted what is useful: the famous pragmatism of William James. But what, in Hermann Bahr’s view, has become of this fundamental drive toward utility? “There were, however, only two drives left in Western man,” he says, and goes on to note how, in the Middle Ages, science was the ‘handmaiden’ of theology. Indeed, at certain times, people could not get enough of citing this saying: ‘Science is the handmaiden of theology.’ Yet Hermann Bahr argues that, when one looks at modern culture, true reason is indeed no longer the handmaiden of theology, but has instead become the handmaiden of our greed. And he poses even deeper questions. The individual, he says, cannot exist on his own; he must be part of a community. For the individual, this community is the state, into which he places himself. But Hermann Bahr must raise the question: Are these not, once again, emotions that govern individual states? — And now he seeks to connect the individual human soul to something spiritual. He first attempts to draw on Goethe and Kant, and then on the following ideas. He tells himself: we see inner impulses at work in our present-day base existence that actually lead reason wherever they will; but that does not tell us that something is true or false because we have refuted or proven it through reason, but because we desire it out of inner impulses—just as Goethe wanted to view Kammerbühl as having arisen from a volcanic nature, while his opponents wanted to regard him as having arisen from a sedimentary nature. There must be other impulses, Hermann Bahr continues, that do not come solely from base human nature. There he finds genius. What a person does out of genius is also an impulse, but not a base one. It is something that works its way into the person, something that has a cosmic quality. So he believes. But now he almost becomes a hair-splitter as he pores over Grimm’s dictionary to get to the bottom of the meaning of the word “genius.” He does, of course, clarify what this word means to Goethe, what it means to Schiller, to the Romantics, and so on, but to simply apply the word “genius” without further thought is, after all, not really possible. For if one were to regard the word “genius” as the highest impulse of science, then surely all professors would say they were geniuses—and one would have just as many geniuses to revere! Of course, Hermann Bahr does not want that. Therefore, he looks for a way out from the other side, and there he finds: Goethe was not entirely wrong, after all, in attributing genius only to a few individuals. And since it can, after all, be attributed only to a few individuals, it cannot be made the driving force of scientific endeavor. In short, he comes to sense an inner connection between the human soul and the spiritual world. And there he finds a connection. You can tear me to pieces, but I cannot make clear to you the logical connection between Goethe’s concept of genius and the church hymn “Veni Creator Spiritus,” between what draws into the human soul when this hymn is sung; a connection that is certainly great and powerful, and is also real, but how it relates to Goethe’s concept of genius—I do not know, nor can I articulate it. But Hermann Bahr wants one thing: to make it clear to himself that reason, the mere pursuit of reason, cannot lead to the truth. Hermann Bahr wants to say “no” to what the Enlightenment said “yes” to. The Enlightenment sought to introduce into the world something that sheds light on what we see and perceive. Reason was to be elevated. But because, according to Hermann Bahr, reason has now become the servant of external craftsmanship and technology, he wants to set it aside and let himself be guided by the impulses that are before his eyes. And these impulses show us how a person who has reached the threshold of spiritual science now nevertheless hesitates and is too complacent to actually enter into this spiritual science. He believes that reason alone achieves nothing; faith must be added and must guide everything. The impulses must come from God Himself—not from lower human nature—and through faith they must enter the soul and guide the human being. Science must be guided by faith; reason alone can achieve nothing in science.

[ 20 ] Hermann Bahr goes to great lengths to find points of connection for this idea. For example, he makes an interesting reference to Friedrich Heinrich Jacobi, who once expressed the thought in a beautiful exchange of letters that there are flexible points for truth everywhere in human nature. A very beautiful idea from Jacobi. I once expressed it differently: Take the *Philosophy of Freedom*; there you have something that, as a whole, is an organism, where one thought grows out of another; when you reach the elastic points somewhere, the thinking continues on its own; there you feel the workings of the spirit in your own soul. Jacobi draws attention to this, and Hermann Bahr also points out that something lives in the human soul, working within it, just like something spiritual. The most remarkable thing is that Hermann Bahr, in a sense, seeks to find the higher human being—who is the divine human being—within humanity, by leading reason back to faith, by rejecting the impulses that hold sway in contemporary science. But he does not find an impulse that lives in humanity today—or at least one that is capable of living. That is the Christ impulse! It is remarkable: in only one passage of his writing—for the other two passages where it appears are entirely insignificant—does he refer to Christ, and this passage is not by Hermann Bahr, but by Pascal. This is Pascal’s statement that we humans can only know ourselves through Jesus Christ, that we can only understand life and death through Jesus Christ, and that on our own we know nothing—neither of our life nor of our death, neither of God nor of ourselves. — Here you have an impulse from Pascal that works from within, that does not originate from human beings themselves: the Christ impulse, which, however, has only been in the world since the Mystery of Golgotha. One must also have a sense of history if one wishes to point this out. Hermann Bahr, then, does not get any further than Harnack and the others; he arrives at a general God who speaks through nature, but not at a living understanding of Christ. Here you have yet another example of how people want to strive for the truth, but they fail to find Christ, and they do not even realize it. Hermann Bahr endeavors to show how the principle of striving runs through the development of the world. He has some fine things to say about Greek civilization, about Roman civilization, and even about Muhammad. The only thing left out is the Mystery of Golgotha! When he speaks of Christianity, he does not return to it until he discusses St. Augustine. No matter how much one may declaim about reason and the like, one does not find Christ; one finds only the general God. But Christ is the God who descended from cosmic heights into earthly life and lives within us as truly as our immediate highest self lives within us. Through what Pascal has in mind, we gain knowledge of the world, of life as well as of death, of God as well as of ourselves, by allowing ourselves to be permeated by Christ. But to recognize this, spiritual science is necessary. Nothing else. And Goethe has already paved the way toward this. But what does Hermann Bahr say when he strives to justify all manner of Goethe’s sayings, seeking, as it were, to open up his inner self, which has recently been led to faith? He says: “I need hardly assure you that I profess the teachings of the Vatican Council, not the opinions of Goethe and Kant!” The convergence with that which holds external power and makes it evident in our present that it also intends to redevelop that power. People do not want to see, they do not want to hear, and they let pass them by what the signs of the times would reveal to them. Hermann Bahr, however, knows how to interpret the signs of the times better in his own way. He knows that in our time, certain signs do indeed point to saying: I hardly need to assure you that I profess the teachings of Vatican II, not the views of Goethe and Kant! This is a perfect example of what happens when complacency takes hold. I love Hermann Bahr—I’ve said that before; I have nothing against him, but merely wish to discuss what is characteristic about him as a highly gifted, significant figure in our time.

[ 21 ] Reason: it is easy to accuse it! One can say many things against it; one can say that it does not find the truth. But to accuse reason alone means not delving deeply enough into the matter. If one were to delve deeper, one would know that only the use of reason that is permeated by Ahriman leads away from the truth, just as the use of faith that is permeated by Lucifer can also lead away from the truth. Faith can be permeated by Lucifer, and reason by Ahriman. But neither faith nor reason in and of themselves lead to untruth or error; for they are, if we are to speak in a religious sense, gifts from God to humanity. If they follow the right paths, they lead to truth, not to error and untruth. And the deeper understanding would be to recognize how Ahriman creeps into reason and brings about what constitutes the aberration of reason. To do this, however, one would have to penetrate once more into the concrete spiritual world and not be too complacent in accepting the individual concepts that reflect the spiritual world. If one wishes to lose oneself in dreadful abstractions, one rails against reason, unaware that, in its concrete development during the fifth post-Atlantean cultural epoch, reason must bring the “I” into the conscious soul. One speaks of colors as if one were blind. But when speaking today from the standpoint of spiritual science, one must—even if some ignorant people or others accuse you of all sorts of contradictions—stand by what I have already explained: what arises when the spirit itself seeks within the spirit. One has a personal responsibility toward the spirit. And that is precisely what, as I was able to emphasize today using specific examples, is to be perceived as something great in the human being: to feel a sense of responsibility in the spirit for everything one does, but also for what one feels and thinks. But if one ties oneself to something that has come about historically, without engaging in personal seeking within what is necessary for humanity, then one might perhaps also say: “Anyone interested in the path God has led me down”—as Hermann Bahr puts it—“should refer to my writings *Inventur* and *Expressionism*, but should be careful—and this is what I must also ask of the reader of this essay—not to generalize my personal experiences, which helped me but by no means speak to others, and therefore cannot help others either.” So if one immerses oneself in all that the Vatican stands for, there is no need to defend one’s personal views. For then one might well say: “If, therefore, any thought here strikes the reader that deviates from these fundamental ideas, I wish to expressly warn him against attributing to my intention what would be caused solely by the carelessness or ambiguity of an unfortunately chosen turn of phrase—entirely against my will and to my sorrow.”

[ 22 ] It is certainly good when someone today speaks such a confession—I would say—from the heart, sincerely and honestly. In doing so, he is making a statement that is as far removed as possible from anthroposophically oriented spiritual science. But he is also expressing what is a fundamental condition in a certain spiritual movement that is seeking to regain power today: What I love as an individual, what I believe as an individual, what I assert—I note from the outset that this is none of the world’s business; for the world, I consider authoritative what the Vatican commands the world to believe and profess; I also add my voice to this, but I will only let it count to the extent that the Vatican allows it to count!

[ 23 ] I do not know to what extent it will still be appropriate to make such a declaration. But it is certain that spiritual science must be based on conducting research itself and taking full responsibility for the findings. No matter how many disappointments this spiritual science may still face, no matter how many hopes may be dashed, it must still be discussed—even if these are hopes that could have led to something better, as is the case with Hermann Bahr.