The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Anthroposophical Life-Gifts VII

[ 1 ] At this time of year, in previous years we have offered reflections tied to the Feast of Pentecost. Now, as I have often said, we are currently living in a time in which the events that intervene in the course of human history are so significant and so different from the ordinary course of human history that there is hardly any possibility of engaging in the usual festive reflections—which, even in the present, are all too often offered, if not with the intention, then at least out of a mindset that leads to forgetting the catastrophic events now unfolding around us. But perhaps it is permissible to point out the very meaning of the Pentecost proclamation.

[ 2 ] We know from previous reflections on Pentecost that the most important aspect of the Pentecost event is that the communal life of those who participated in the great Easter event of humanity became individualized. The tongues of fire descended upon the head of each one, and each person learned, in that language which is unlike any other and is therefore understandable to all, to grasp what has flowed through the course of human development as the Mystery of Golgotha. The tongues of fire descended upon the head of each one. It had already been the case earlier that the souls of the individual disciples felt, one might say, as if they were within a collective aura of the Mystery of Golgotha. Then, through the event of Pentecost, what they had previously known only through their communal life was transferred into each individual soul in such a way that each person experienced enlightenment of their own accord. This is the most important point, expressed, of course, in abstract terms. One must feel this individualization of the Easter message through the Pentecost proclamation in one’s soul if one wishes to understand it in the proper sense. But then one has precisely the opportunity to grasp what spiritual science aims for in the true spirit of this Pentecost proclamation. For one of the most prominent aims of spiritual science is that every human soul may find within itself the spiritual core of its being, which can enlighten it regarding the worldly goals to be striven for. The future life of humanity is to develop in such a way that people are less dependent on always looking to what is given to them in terms of communal or social structures; rather, let us hope that people will become mature and capable, each leading a life from within themselves such that the person next to them can lead a similar life. Then an inner tolerance will take hold of souls, and freedom will be able to be realized within the social structure. There is no other way to realize freedom in the world than this—that is, no other way than by allowing the message of Pentecost to permeate the individual human souls.

[ 3 ] The message of Pentecost serves as a model for how we must work within our souls and how we must grasp what spiritual science offers. Therefore, one might say: From a certain point of view, spiritual science itself is a perennial, everlasting, and enduring proclamation of Pentecost.

[ 4 ] What the present can teach us above all else—if we wish to apply this lesson to our own situation—is that we must arm ourselves with patience. There are friends here who, from quite the beginning of our endeavors, have worked from within on what we call our spiritual science movement. It has now been a good fifteen to sixteen, perhaps even seventeen years, and the thought should actually be constantly before our minds: how little, how infinitely little has actually been achieved in these fifteen to seventeen years. And from this should arise the other thought: how much we must arm ourselves with patience when we consider that what spiritual science can be for us—what it can become through us—can truly lead to a kind of revitalization of human existence.

[ 5 ] What spiritual science can become—we should always compare it with what we have achieved, so very little, in the past decade and a half. Certainly, many have taken to heart what spiritual science offers to humanity. But that is only the very least of it, as is evident from the numerous observations we have made. Spiritual science has yet another task: to truly flow into the social structure, into the entire life of present-day humanity. But if we want to grasp this idea, we must connect it with another—one that resounds to us today and at every moment from all world events, one that represents a certain conflict into which the human soul is driven, and which, especially in our present time, one might say, has been driven to a certain climax.

[ 6 ] If we recall the main points of our spiritual scientific research, you will find everywhere that this research is based precisely on the fact that supersensible, spiritual reality flows into the human soul. This spiritual science enables us to recognize that, in the course of human evolution, spiritual life continually flows into human beings; yet what happens on Earth is progress only to the extent that human beings are able to awaken to outward existence that which flows into them from the spiritual world. But such a thought should actually be able to permeate our entire feeling and perception. Above all, we must be able to relate it to what we know, for example, as the science of history, and we should then be able to apply it to the present from this perspective. We should, for example, be able to ask ourselves—but ask in earnest—these things are, of course, hypotheses, but they point to realities in a genuine life of thought: What would have become of Columbus, for example, or anyone else closely associated with the development of modern humanity—such as Gutenberg, the inventor of the printing press, or even Luther himself—if they had been born in the 9th or 8th century, in short, in a different historical era? What would then have become of the individuals who bear these names? — Certainly, had they been born in other times, they would not have become what they appear to us today in history. Of course, this cannot be; the development of the world has its own karma; but the hypothetical consideration of such a matter points to realities. They would probably have become figures of whom external history makes no mention. Yet, on the other hand, you cannot imagine that, in such a case, the art of printing, for example, would not have been invented as modern times approached, nor can you imagine that the Reformation would not have come about with the advent of these modern times. From this, however, you can see that the main point is that we look to what is communicated to humanity from the spiritual world, and that we learn—to a much greater extent than is currently possible at all—to regard human beings as instruments through which the spiritual enters earthly life from the spiritual world.

[ 7 ] I said that, especially in the present, human beings are placed in a sharp conflict with regard to these matters. The present age does not acknowledge that something like a spiritual current of development is flowing down into earthly events; it does not acknowledge that human beings are mere instruments, and it seeks to establish a social order that does not recognize this. It seeks to establish a social order that actually takes into account only the entirely individual human being standing here on Earth, and [only] focuses on this entirely individual human being. The most extreme caricature, which focuses solely on the most individual of human beings, is the Leninism or Trotskyism mentioned earlier. This view of society recognizes only the human being standing here on Earth. By this I do not mean merely the theoretical aspect—that would be the least of it—but rather the practical consequences for life. Such a Lenin or Trotsky seeks—even in a realm where it is least appropriate—to organize the social structure as if nothing else were to be considered but the individual, flesh-and-blood human being. But this is an ideal that has been taking shape for decades in the realm of so-called socialism, and Leninism and Trotskyism are, after all, merely the final grotesque convulsions of such a worldview, one that has been developing for a long time.

[ 8 ] You see what matters: finding our way back to the meaning of the Pentecost event. Certainly, in the individual disciples upon whose heads the flames had descended, an individual spiritual life was to arise and enlighten them. But it was to be a spiritual life through which the greatest conceivable measure of the objective—for which human beings are merely instruments—would be distributed among the individual members.

[ 9 ] But the meaning of this Pentecost proclamation is also something else, and that is the most important point: the affirmation that human beings do not lose their value by serving as instruments for the Spirit that continually flows into humanity. Thus, human beings nevertheless retain their personal value. This is something that today cannot be merely understood in theory; rather, it is necessary to draw the practical consequences and apply them to the way we think about the formation of states, morality, and social life. What matters is that a thought has the power to awaken—and it was indeed an awakening when the flames descended upon the head of each and every one of the disciples. And failing to take notice of current events—a failure that is all too widespread today—is a sin against those very events. However, in the cycle of development we have now reached, it is quite impossible to awaken to current events unless one observes them with a certain inner flexibility of the soul, unless one is able to distinguish what is essential and true from what is unessential and false. What floods us today—especially in newspaper reading—cannot be taken in such a way that everything is treated as equal; rather, among a thousand columns in books or newspapers, there may be two lines of immense, essential significance that point—in a “primordial-phenomenal” sense, to use Goethe’s expression—to what is actually taking place. And the rest may all be wasted ink. What matters is that one must awaken within oneself an inner sensibility toward what is important and essential, and toward what is unimportant and insignificant. This feeling arises in the soul when one unconsciously gains access to the great worldviews that spiritual science can open up to us in the present. One need only incorporate this into one’s sensibility, need only try to gradually feel as one will feel when spiritual science comes alive within oneself. It is, however, necessary to cultivate a much greater degree of inner trust in what one, so to speak, senses inwardly than people are accustomed to today. For whoever expects that what they receive today will immediately manifest itself tomorrow in events that shine far and wide will, as a rule, not be able to cope with true observation. Something may be true, but events may conceal it so that it is perhaps only expressed in the distant future. But for this, it is necessary that we position ourselves correctly in the world; for this, it is important that we have correct conceptions of what is happening.

[ 10 ] Thus, in the current course of development, extraordinarily important things are actually taking place, which can already be observed in external events—if one views these external events in the way I have just indicated: that one distinguishes the essential from the non-essential, that one has the courage to distinguish the essential from the non-essential.

[ 11 ] What is happening today—and I want to highlight just one thing—is that, in a remarkable way, the insignificance of the external British Empire is taking shape, along with the paralysis of what the world has historically known as “Britishness,” as that which was specifically British is giving way to Pan-Anglo-Americanism. This is unfolding in the very present moment. Something is developing that tends toward the disappearance of “Britishness” into Pan-Anglo-Americanism. Such a development is entirely consistent with the trend we have already indicated in various ways; it does not contradict it. But on the other hand, it is of immense importance to truly take such a fundamental idea into account, for much depends on whether one incorporates the right or the wrong forces into one’s imaginative life. History can teach us a great deal in this regard; this must be pointed out again and again. Certainly, the people at the front have changed. Everyone familiar with the facts knows this. This is not the place to discuss exactly how they have changed. But among those who have lived behind the front lines, there are still an extraordinarily large number who think just as they did in July 1914, who have learned nothing since then, and who use exactly the same concepts that were used in July 1914. When you speak with people, they tell you the very same things they could have said back in July 1914. But in truth, no alert person today can fail to recognize that every concept has taken on a different character, a different significance. And for this reason, the question will have to be asked—but this is a question everyone should ask themselves as a very serious and, I would say, Christian matter of conscience—: Where can we find people today who, before July 1914, truly realized that what has now come to pass could actually happen? I could—and you know I am not saying this out of frivolity—also phrase the question differently. In the series of lectures I gave in Vienna before the war, there is, among other things, a statement that reads: “Social human life now carries within it something that can be compared to a carcinoma, which is a form of cancer in the life of humanity.” One had to face this reality back then. But there are many people who have still not faced this reality to this day. I ask: To what extent has it been understood that, back then, people were speaking of a carcinoma in human development?

[ 12 ] I merely wish to point out the seriousness with which spiritual science should be taken if it is to be applied to contemporary events. Indeed, the reason why spiritual science is so widely rejected is largely to be found in the fact that the seriousness with which it is intended is terribly uncomfortable for people. While some people do like the theories of spiritual science, the seriousness with which it confronts the demands of life is, for many of those who like the theories, extremely, extremely uncomfortable. All of this leads us directly to perhaps understanding a little more precisely what I must now include in these reflections—something that is important to bear in mind if one wishes to understand spiritual science at its very foundations.

[ 13 ] When people today want to understand something in the world, they almost always have the feeling that the means to this understanding must somehow be sought in the present. But the spiritual cannot be sought solely in the present. For example, if one wishes to become acquainted with the human being in relation to the spiritual realm, even the essence of the human being between birth and death cannot be grasped solely through knowledge of the present human being. Why? Suppose you have reached the age of fifty—it could, of course, be any other age—and you develop within your soul a certain life connected with the forces of the feeling soul. Then, quite involuntarily, based on your perception of the present, you will have the view: “This is my feeling soul that I have within me; it expresses itself when the soul’s life of feeling expresses itself.” But that is not true at all. Rather, your feeling soul developed between the ages of twenty-one and twenty-eight, and what was in your soul at that time—and ceased to be there for the present at the age of twenty-eight—continues to have an effect; that is what you draw upon today when you contemplate the powers of the feeling soul. It is not the present powers of the feeling soul that you draw upon, but the powers from that time. The past continues to have an effect. It is not true that everything that has an effect is exhausted in the present; rather, the past continues to have an effect. The spiritual world must be understood like music, but as real music. You could not possibly perceive a melody if you had lost the first note by the third note; in the third note, the first continues to have an effect—it is at work within it. In spiritual activity, it is the case that something does not merely continue to have an effect through being retained in memory, but that it continues to have an effect in reality. The effects of past forces of spiritual life in the individual parts of the soul are, like the parts of the spiritual-soul, constantly present, but in yet another sense. Our twenty-first and twenty-second years continue to have an effect within us even later; they are there—and they are there insofar as they were present in the past, not insofar as they are present in the present. Forming new concepts—and what I have just explained to you is a new concept; it is not to be found anywhere among the concepts of the present—forming new concepts is uncomfortable for people. They do not want to admit to themselves, for example: When I am an old man and have gray hair and a bald spot, I still speak and think with the powers of my youth, of my childhood. — And it is simply true: what school has led you to do—how you spend your time from the age of eighteen to twenty-eight—has an effect throughout your entire life. You cannot replace it later with other forces, but only by turning to those sources that spiritual science opens up. This is the only means by which certain things in life can be replaced. You will not find it incomprehensible that, in fact, many people today remain fundamentally unproductive. This is connected to the educational system. After all, we cannot develop anything that was not planted within us during our childhood—unless, of course, it was planted within us through the ordinary forces by which we turn to human beings themselves.

[ 14 ] There is much involved in properly grasping such ideas. Above all—and I must emphasize this again and again from a wide variety of perspectives—people must learn once more to believe in life, to believe in the spiritual nature of life, in a much higher sense than they are willing to today. Today, it will be relatively easy for people to believe in their spiritual origin. It will be relatively easy to persuade them to believe that what has developed as material substance through heredity across generations is connected to a spiritual element that comes from a spiritual world. But that is not enough. What is necessary is that we believe not only in the spiritual origin of a part of our life, but in the spiritual origin of our entire life. How so?

[ 15 ] Today, based on the trends in human development that I have often cited, we believe that by the age of twenty we have generally brought our lives to full maturity. We believe that by our twenties we are mature enough to be elected to city councils, parliaments, and the like, because that is where we can make decisions about everything. People believe they have long since left behind those times—which, as we know, did exist—when one waited until a more advanced age, on the assumption that each new year of life would bring new revelations. For a child today, when sexual maturity sets in, we expect that the soul’s capacity will also change. Even if not in such a radical way, we still expect this for the other years of childhood. We observe this development and are convinced: human life continues to develop until one’s twenties. But then we stop believing in further development. We think we are finished; we do not expect the later years of life to bring us new revelations with each passing year. Nor can we, if we stick to conventional views. But we know that humanity grows ever younger in the course of its development, and today it does not grow older than twenty-seven years. At that point, physical development has nothing more to offer. Thus, whatever is to contribute to further development must be drawn from the spirit. But when it is drawn from the spirit, it connects with our soul. Just ask yourself how few people today would admit that if you are a twenty-two-year-old young badger today and then reach the age of forty-five, simply because one experiences different things in old age than in youth, at forty-five you can, through inner revelation, achieve something that could not have been achieved earlier. Who believes in the productivity, in the fruitfulness of old age? And because people do not believe in it, that is why it is not there; for they do not pay attention to how each new year also brings new revelations. But consider how much would change in human life if this belief were truly widespread, if all people believed: “I must wait until I grow older; then I will experience things through myself that I could not have experienced before.” A life full of anticipation, a life full of hope—where is that today? But such a thought, such a feeling, carried over into human community life: Just think what immense significance this would have! What immense significance it would have if, alongside all the various “demolitions of equality”—as I’d like to call them—that are at play in our time, the following awareness were to be added to human coexistence: simply by having reached the age of forty, one may have experienced something that one could not yet experience at the age of twenty-seven. Just imagine how a twenty-seven-year-old might relate to a forty-year-old if that were a natural sentiment! Of course, this cannot be the case today, because today even seventy-year-olds are often no older than twenty-seven, and often it is precisely the most prominent figures who are no older—and who do not even realize it. So one cannot demand this as a realistic expectation today.

[ 16 ] But that is precisely what life must bring, and what the future demands: that people begin to regard the spiritual as a reality once again. What is the only thing known to people today as “spirit”? By and large, nothing other than a sum of abstract concepts. People arrive at this collection of abstract concepts through precisely those abstract concepts that are characterized by the fact that they can be quite easily absorbed up to the age of twenty-seven. But the fact that we live here on Earth between birth and death—first experiencing a life that sprouts and blossoms, then coming to a standstill in this development at the age of twenty-eight, and then, from the age of thirty-five onward, beginning our descending life—this is connected to a real, concrete spirituality that changes just as the outer human being changes; and this concrete spiritual reality follows a course that is more or less the opposite of that of the outer human being. The outer human being grows old, becomes wrinkled, but his etheric body, his body of formative forces, grows ever younger; only, people today pay no attention to this body of formative forces that grows younger with age. People walk around with bald spots and gray hair, and they do not know that they have a body of formative forces that is full of sprouting, burgeoning life precisely when they begin to get gray hair—a body that can give them things at that very moment that could not be given to them before. This is, of course, a product of the spirit of the times. But in this regard, the times need a reversal. The times need a transformation of concepts. One thing that must be particularly present in this transformation of thought is that thoughts must once again become a little stronger and healthier, that they must not cling to what is merely presented from the outside; otherwise, we will end up with the most terrible one-sidedness in all areas. Penetrating reality with thought in any given area—that is what matters. Nor can we understand the historical life of human beings if we are unable to counter what appears outwardly as wisdom with inner wisdom. After all, for various reasons connected with the rift, the rupture in human development, we have ceased to understand many great things that were once discovered in an atavistic manner. In some areas, people today believe themselves to be original.

[ 17 ] Some time ago, during a lecture in Dornach, I raised the question of what an audience would say if, in a production of Faust, a theater director were to have Faust—after he has collapsed before the Earth Spirit—appear in a form that Wagner had altered just a little, but otherwise looked exactly like Faust. And yet, something like that really ought to be done. I’ll tell you the reason why it should be done.

[ 18 ] What do people read today in the “Faust” commentaries, and what do they have in mind when they, too, speak of this matter—the one I’m referring to—between Wagner and Faust? You need only recall the delirious declamations of some “Fausts” and the insipid tones coming from the “Wagners,” and then you’ll get an idea of what we’re dealing with here—especially when people still think only of the great Faust soaring up into the clouds and of the pedantic Wagner, who is still portrayed on stage as limping a bit and so on. But what is actually at hand? Faust despairs of the various sciences. This is usually regarded as something of the utmost profundity, although, strictly speaking, for many people who are not very deep-thinking, it is already a triviality today. But what isn’t considered profound? How often do we hear, in response to various other demands for an understanding of the spiritual world, that one should stick to the deepest thoughts in Faust—for example, the idea of the “All-Sustainer” who embraces and sustains me, you, and himself, as expressed in Faust’s conversation with Gretchen. People fail to consider that Faust speaks these words to the sixteen-year-old Gretchen and tailors them to her level of understanding and sensibility. All of humanity is happy to be catechized by lowering itself to the level of the sixteen-year-old Gretchen. I have even met philosophy professors who present these “Gretchen catechisms” as the highest wisdom. — But that, too, is not the point at the beginning of the poem: that Faust despairs of all sciences. Rather, the crux of the matter lies in the fact that Faust turns away from what is revealed to him by the sign of the macrocosm, the entire world. At first, he wants nothing to do with humanity’s relationship to the vast, all-encompassing universe. He turns to the Earth Spirit, to that which seeks to reveal to him what humanity derives solely from the forces of the earth. What is revealed to him from the macrocosm is a spectacle to him, “but alas, only a spectacle!” And so he turns away. But the Earth Spirit rejects him. Faust believed he could grasp through the Earth Spirit something connected to his deepest being. The Earth Spirit causes him to fall. And then the words: “You resemble the spirit you comprehend, not me!”

[ 19 ] Now ask yourself: Who is it that Faust understands? He himself says: “Not you! — Then who?” — and Wagner enters. Everything you have developed so far is mere emotional striving; look at what you already carry within you—in Wagner! That is the other nature of Faust. That is the dramatic, true answer! In the drama, the development is driven by the facts. Faust must be made to understand that, fundamentally, in all the concrete forms he has developed up to that point, he is still no more than his Famulus, and it is precisely through this stage of self-knowledge that he is to be led a step further. One could portray reality precisely by having the two of them appear side by side on stage. But to do so, one would have to have the courage to take words such as these: “You resemble the spirit you comprehend, not me!” — “Not you! Then who?” — much more seriously than before. Then one would have to immerse oneself completely in the situation with one’s thoughts. And that is how it is portrayed in the drama.

[ 20 ] And again—let us consider something else. Faust has turned away from the sign of the macrocosm. He does not want to experience the forces that bind human beings to the macrocosm, to the entire universe. This is essentially how it lived in Goethe’s own soul when he wrote the first parts of his Faust. And when Faust made up for what he had missed in his youth—at least in retrospect, through the Easter Walk and the Easter Vigil as a whole—he moved beyond the stage of self-knowledge that had confronted him in Wagner and came to make up for what he had let pass him by, for what the Easter message could mean to him. Read the passages; Wagner does not want this. The individual words are extraordinarily concise, for example:

How is it that all hope does not fade from the mind,
Which clings ceaselessly to worthless evidence,
Digging for treasures with a greedy hand,
And is happy when it finds earthworms!

[ 21 ] It cannot be otherwise than that “all hope fades” from this mind. This is the motif of self-reflection. Faust is merely drawing all the consequences, but he is making up for what he neglected in his youth. He is making up for it and is able to do so. Through this, he is raised to a higher level. This justifies the question being posed once again: “To whom, then?” To the one who comes toward him in the “Pudel”: Mephistopheles. But what is this? This is the counterforce to the human striving forces, which opposes man just as Faust opposes the Earth Spirit, since he wants nothing to do with the macrocosm. These are the Luciferic forces that emerge from within the human being. Therefore, Mephistopheles is initially endowed with Luciferic traits, and this is essentially the Mephistopheles of the first part of the Faust cycle: a Luciferic being.

[ 22 ] But by the end of the 1890s, Goethe was already beginning to outgrow what had originated in his youth. For read the “Prologue in Heaven”: What is developed there is no longer bound to the revelations of the Earth Spirit; there, Goethe is already engaged with the impulse that comes from the macrocosm . Goethe has outgrown his own beginnings. And now something enters his soul that is immensely significant and important, and which, once recognized, allows us to look deeply into Goethe’s soul.

[ 23 ] Goethe drew on the tradition of the Faust legend, the tradition of Norse and German mythology. Mephistopheles was already there. But at the very moment when, urged on by Schiller, he continued work on Faust, Mephistopheles—though Goethe did not fully realize it—became a character who gnawed at him inwardly, one he could not quite come to terms with. — Jakob Minor, who is also an interpreter of Faust and has said many witty things, had come up with a curious explanation for why Goethe made no progress at all when he resumed work on Faust. He believes, in fact, that Goethe had grown old by the time he was approaching his fifties. I would just like to know how it could be possible to write Faust at all if poetic power were to dry up by one’s fifties, and yet one would have to channel the energy of the years after fifty into one’s poetry as well—unless the vitality of youth could blossom within a person from a life such as Goethe knew how to lead. But Mephistopheles gnawed at his soul; instinctively, he gnawed at him. And he wouldn’t let him move forward, because the Faust-Mephistopheles conflict didn’t quite work. Goethe had once led Faust toward the greatest questions of humanity, and that was no longer possible with Mephistopheles. The latter had taken on a Luciferian character. There, one is dealing only with the forces that arise from the life of feelings and sensations. But at the very moment when Goethe develops the “Prologue in Heaven,” Faust stands face to face with the macrocosm. It is no longer possible to have Faust struggle merely with those powers that dwell within the human being; it is no longer possible to allow Mephistopheles to retain only his Luciferic character. Goethe sensed this. And truly, not to be pedantic, but to point out something important, I would like to draw your attention to a few minor details. Consider that in the “Prologue in Heaven,” the Lord says:

Of all the spirits that deny,
The mischievous one is the least of a burden to me.

[ 24 ] Then there must be other spirits who say no. But in Faust there is only one: Mephistopheles. And do you recall that Mephistopheles says in the “Prologue”:

What I love most are those full, fresh cheeks,
I’m not at home for a corpse.

[ 25 ] And remember the ending, where he truly takes the corpse seriously enough. What is going on here? It is this: Goethe sensed that what he had received from the myth, from the Faust legend—namely, the unified figure of Mephistopheles—splits into two when one steps out into the macrocosm. Within Goethe, this lived on as a dual feeling: Luciferic and Ahrimanic. He was unable to make further progress on this because spiritual science did not yet exist in his time. But this brought him to a standstill. However, when he later had to connect macrocosmic events with the history of humanity in The Classical Walpurgis Night, and at the end, where macrocosmic universal events and human experience are woven into one, his Mephistopheles had to take on an Ahrimanic character. He succeeded in this to a high degree. But everything Goethe himself said about his personal relationship to his Faust is marked by the impression: It cannot go any further. If one takes the Faust from the medieval, pedantic, yet nonetheless folk-oriented drama and places him on the great world stage, one must split Mephistopheles into a Luciferic and an Ahrimanic being. That is why Goethe could not proceed any further. He then succeeded—of course, I do not mean to correct Goethe—in giving his Mephistopheles Ahrimanic traits as he drew ever closer to the second part of the poem. A Luciferic being loves “full, fresh cheeks”; an Ahrimanic being is concerned with the “corpse,” because what we experience through our powers of perception also permeates our consciousness between birth and death. Precisely when one looks at a personality like Goethe’s, one recognizes how such a personality retains the forces of youth, yet uses these youthful forces to gain ever new life experiences. It was not because he had grown old that what emerges in such a remarkable way from Goethe’s life story toward the end of the 1790s came to pass, but because he underwent a crisis that brought certain forces of his youth to a new resurrection, causing them to rise again and allowing him to experience them truly as a Pentecost miracle. What I have just said about Faust is elaborated upon in the work that is now to be republished: Goethe’s Faust as a Reflection of His Esoteric Worldview. This is intended to form the first part of a small book to be published shortly: “Goethe’s Spirit”; the second part will consist of Goethe’s thoughts on his “Faust,” and the third part will contain some reflections on the “Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily.”

[ 26 ] I have just cited this because I want to draw attention to the fact that it is truly necessary to grasp, through profound reflection, that which constitutes the spiritual substance of humanity—including the past—so that we may take what is there seriously. For over the past four to five decades, we have completely forgotten how to take the very greatest aspects of humanity’s past with full seriousness. An awful lot has been neglected over the past forty to fifty years, and it is necessary for what was spiritually present to reappear in a renewed form; for in some respects it was atavistic, and in many ways it was unable to break through a certain crust.

[ 27 ] Goethe was unable to divide the figure of Mephistopheles into a Luciferic and an Ahrimanic aspect; the time was not yet ripe for that. But this ambivalence was alive in Goethe’s nature. In short, we must learn to believe in the whole of human life, not merely in childhood. We must learn to lead a life full of anticipation. Just imagine, if one were curious about this: What will become of me when I am fifty years old? How many people today harbor such thoughts? How many lead a life in which they believe that ever-new content flows into the human soul? What changes would take place in the social life of humanity if this belief in the whole of life were to take hold of people! And what simple thought could it be that leads to this belief in the whole of human life? The thought expressed in the question: Would it make any sense for us to live to an average age of seventy if our development were complete by the age of twenty-eight? Why, then, should we grow older? But this does, of course, require some support from the natural sciences so that what appears as spiritual science can be connected with what is taken seriously as science today.

[ 28 ] The humanities, I said—and with this I return to the beginning of today’s reflection—have actually achieved very little within our movement. And yet they are not without hope. One notices this on many occasions. One notices it most clearly when the situation arises—and this has happened quite often in recent years—that younger people, who are currently pursuing university studies, come forward seeking to “find” something that can link their specific fields of study to spiritual science. The young people who are just beginning their lives today sense, from within their own academic disciplines, that every field of study can be bridged to the science of the spirit. These may well be the most fruitful seeds that could emerge from this; for one would have to take these matters seriously. But difficulties arise immediately when these young people, with what they wish to incorporate from spiritual science into their studies—and which could certainly be incorporated in a substantive way—attempt, for example, to write a doctoral dissertation. They cannot pull it off; they cannot realize what they want. Spiritual science is, at its core, something very promising in an objective sense, but people are held back, forced away from it. This, too, must be recognized in the fullest sense of the word. I know of a case—it was a long time ago, so I can tell the story; the most recent cases would not be suitable for this—where a doctoral dissertation was submitted here in Berlin in which the only “sin” was that my book Christianity as a Mystical Fact was mentioned. It was a philosophical dissertation, not a theological one. The person in question said: “What am I supposed to do now? Paulsen won’t accept it; he said, ‘You can’t do that—you can’t cite Steiner here.’”—I could only reply to him: “Go to Münster; take your oral examination with Gideon Spicker; it might work there.”—And it did work. One must view things as they really are; one must look into the details. The perspectives that are developed today, when someone seeks to build their career on an academic foundation, are indeed sometimes highly peculiar. For example, a prospective private lecturer once told me—though he did manage to navigate this obstacle in a way you’ll hear about shortly—that he achieved it through what he himself described to me as follows: He had written an aesthetic treatise on the works of a poet—I won’t name him, lest the matter be guessed through some means or other—; then he had written a treatise on Schopenhauer and, of course, a doctoral dissertation as well. Now he wanted to become a private lecturer. He went to the relevant university to see the professor in question, who liked him and considered him a very capable person, and he believed that this professor could easily arrange for him to become a private lecturer. Then this professor said: “You know, that won’t work; you’ve now written a treatise on a poet, on an aesthetic question.” But this poet lived in the 19th century. That’s too recent. Then you wrote about Schopenhauer. We cannot regard that as scholarly.” — The man replied, “But what am I supposed to do, then?” — And the professor replied: “Take any old book catalog from an earlier century, look up an aesthetician who’s as obscure as possible—one nobody knows—and write about him. It’ll be very easy for you, because there’s no literature on the subject; you won’t need to study much—just write what’s easy to write, since you can simply find him in a book catalog.” — Well, this aspiring private lecturer took an old bibliography, looked up an obscure Italian aesthetician about whom nothing had yet been written, and composed a treatise that he considered highly inadequate—and which the person tasked with evaluating it also deemed highly inadequate. But it was sufficient to qualify him as a private lecturer!

[ 29 ] I do not wish to mention this in order to slander any particular individual. Nor is this about specific individuals, for I am recounting an example that has nothing to do with them. The man who was tasked with evaluating the dissertation in question laughed at what he had to impose on the other man out of the prejudices of the time. And the other man, who wanted to become a private lecturer, laughed as well. Two exceptionally kind people, one older and one younger. It is not a matter of the people themselves. It lies in the spiritual substance that characterizes our age, and which can only be met with strong and powerful thoughts. And strong and powerful thoughts are possible today only if humanity is inspired by the spirit, if we truly build only upon what spiritual science can provide. So, whether one turns one’s gaze to Goethe or to the immediate present, this is what resounds to us time and again from the immediate circumstances of our time: the renewal of our world of ideas, the renewal of our world of feelings, the renewal of our thoughts, which stand in strong opposition to the present. It depends on this that the miracle of Pentecost is fulfilled in the soul of each individual, and that this miracle of Pentecost manifests itself to all of humanity—in our catastrophic present—as a renewal of life, in that human beings, enlightened by the Spirit, face one another as individual beings in such a way that, through a shared will, shared intention, and growing together, a spiritual structure of humanity can take shape. What is necessary for the future must come from the human being, from the individual. We must not wait for a universal message that humanity would have to follow. No such message will come. But there will be the possibility that what can come from the spiritual world will shine forth in every single human soul. Then, through the coexistence of human beings, what is meant to arise—and what must arise—will come into being.