The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Fifth Lecture

[ 1 ] I have recently become acquainted with some contemporary mystics who have attempted to shed light on the nature of human beings in the following way. I would like to present the conclusion they believe they have reached. They say something like this: When one observes human beings as they walk the earth, their entire existence is a kind of mystery. With his soul, he towers far above what he is capable of expressing in his entire human existence—of revealing himself, so to speak, through the interplay of relationships with other human beings. Therefore, according to these mystics, one must assume that human beings, in their very essence, are actually something entirely different from what they appear to be here in their earthly lives. He must be a comprehensive cosmic being who, by his inner nature, is actually far, far more powerful than what is manifested here on Earth; for some reason, he must have forfeited life in the great cosmos and must have been banished into this earthly existence —as a mystical follower of this school told me verbatim, for example—in order to learn humility here, to learn to be modest here, to feel small here for once, while in truth he is a great, powerful cosmic being who has, however, in some way rendered himself unworthy of living out this cosmic being.

[ 2 ] I know that there are many people who simply laugh at such an idea. But anyone who understands life from a deeper perspective knows that even such a mystical idea ultimately stems from the great difficulty of solving the riddle of life—a difficulty that imposes itself ever more acutely on the human soul, precisely the more that this human soul seeks to immerse itself in true reality. Of course, I do not intend to present any specific example in support of this idea of a contemporary mystical movement that I have just described. I merely wanted to mention it as something that has found a place as a concept within human souls. One could just as easily cite a dozen other, more or less philosophical or mystical solutions to the enigma of humanity in the abstract.

[ 3 ] When one then tries to get to the bottom of what underlies the fact that such a wide variety of people, in such diverse ways—and sometimes in quite unusual ways—attempt to come to terms with what human existence here on Earth is really all about, one arrives at various conclusions. Above all, one realizes that, precisely with regard to the great, real questions of existence, people do not want to live up to something for themselves that they certainly admit to in small ways at every possible daily opportunity: At every possible moment in daily life, people will admit that one should not allow one’s desires to obscure the truth, that what one wishes to be true cannot be the determining factor for the objectivity of truth. In ordinary life, on a small scale, people will readily admit this; on a larger scale, however, we see, so to speak, the impossibility for people to arrive at a worldview that corresponds to reality, precisely in the fact that people cannot help but assert their desires when it comes to grasping the truth. And most often, it is precisely those desires—which one might call unconscious desires—that play the major role; desires that people do not even admit exist within their souls. Yet these desires are present in the soul; they remain subconscious or unconscious. And this, precisely, would be the task of spiritual scientific training: to bring such desires—which remain unconscious—into consciousness, in order to rise above the illusory life and penetrate into the sphere of truth.

[ 4 ] Such unconscious desires play a role especially when the highest truths of life are to assert themselves within a person—the truths of life concerning the very nature of human life itself, let us say this ordinary human life as it unfolds in the physical world between birth and death. A genuine, appropriate, and realistic view must always take into account the entire course of life if life is to be understood. And imagine the case where such a realistic contemplation of life yielded a result that a person—even if only in subconscious desires—did not want at all: Then that person would do everything possible to use apparent logic to get around an uncomfortable outcome.

[ 5 ] Isn't it true that, when you consider earthly life alone, there is essentially nothing to suggest that the truth must correspond to human desires, even if those desires are unconscious? It could, after all, be the case that the truth about human life is not at all pleasant.

[ 6 ] A spiritual-scientific perspective shows that this is indeed the case. Of course, one can find a higher point of view from which the matter might appear differently. But for the kind of life that people would like to lead on this earth, a truthful examination reveals that the truth about human beings is such that most of those who seek the easy life feel a slight shudder—albeit a subconscious one; but you will understand what I mean—a slight, unconscious, and at times very strong subconscious shudder. But then one must consider the whole of human life.

[ 7 ] We know that, viewed precisely and objectively, the entire human life can be divided into different periods. You can read about these periods in my little book *The Education of the Child from the Perspective of Spiritual Science*. We know that one can only understand a human being by first considering life from birth to the change of teeth, from the change of teeth to sexual maturity, from sexual maturity to the early twenties—let’s say, on average, up to the age of twenty-one—and then again up to the age of twenty-eight. One can understand human life in the same way one seeks to understand anything scientifically, by taking into account this seven-year cycle of human life.

[ 8 ] Significant events take place in human life during each of these periods. Based on what we discussed again yesterday, you know that human beings stand in life, aligning themselves with the cosmos—I reminded you yesterday of the image of the magnetic needle—so that, for example, the formation of their head points far, far into the distant past, while the formation of their extremities points into the distant future, just as the magnetic needle points with one pole toward the north and the other toward the south.

[ 9 ] This connection to the cosmos, however, is different in each of the major human periods. In each of the major human periods, different forces intervene in the organization of humanity. During the first seven years of our lives, something fundamentally different is at work within us than during the second seven years. Everything that finds expression around the seventh year—one might say, as if all growth were damming up along a shore, forcing out the permanent teeth—all that which dams up as the permanent teeth push through: this is brought about by the forces of the cosmos during the first seven years of life. And yet there is something else that a person takes back in the course of their development. That which a person takes back in their development as they reach sexual maturity—that with which they, I might say, “tint” themselves—is formed through the fact that certain developmental forces, which are thoroughly rooted in the cosmos, take shape during the second phase of life, and so on.

[ 10 ] The fact is, however, that one must say: In the whole human being, the various parts do indeed interact with one another. Even a child, up until the time of tooth replacement, develops a certain psychological activity; and this psychological activity is exceptionally important, especially in these first years of life. I need only recall the truly wise saying of Jean Paul, who remarked that at the beginning of one’s life, one undoubtedly learns more about life from one’s nurse than from all one’s professors combined during one’s academic years. There is indeed something very wise, something very true, in this saying. One simply has to assess things in the right way. One learns a great deal during these first seven years of life, but what is learned remains, so to speak, on an intellectual level and, in other respects, buried in the dullness of the soul’s life, which is still almost a physical existence. But if you just take a look at my little book *The Spiritual Guidance of the Individual and of Humanity*, you will see that this life, which the child unfolds during the first seven years, can be assessed differently than is usually the case. In these first seven years, there is truly no great wisdom at work in the human organism. When the child—as the bourgeois expression goes—has “seen the light of day,” its brain is still quite undifferentiated. It only becomes differentiated over time, and the brain structures that emerge there—when studied—truly correspond to the influences of a deeper wisdom than anything we can muster in later life, whether we are designing machines or engaging in any scientific endeavor. Of course, we cannot later do consciously what we accomplish unconsciously when, as I said, we have just “seen the light of the world.” Cosmic reason reigns within us—that cosmic reason we also had to speak of when we discussed the development of language. Truly, a high cosmic reason reigns within the human being during the first seven years of life.

[ 11 ] During the second seven years of life, this cosmic reason then focuses on imbuing the human being with what leads to sexual maturity; it is already at work to a small degree during this time. One might say: That which remains there, that which is not utilized internally—well, that simply rises up into the head. The head gets a share of it—and it usually craves it, too! But what the head receives is actually something that is set aside within the human being, in the unconscious realm of the soul life. And then the process continues in seven-year periods.

[ 12 ] Today, however, people generally do not study the entire human life—what is called “normal” human life—because studying this normal human life requires a certain devotion: first to the true human being itself, and then also to the great cosmic laws. And as strange as it may sound, what prevails within a person during the first years of childhood—the first seven years—cannot be understood, certainly not as a child, nor as a young man or woman, nor even in one’s twenties, when one already imagines oneself capable of grasping the whole of life. It cannot be understood. One can gain some understanding of what takes place in childhood if one seeks this understanding inwardly within oneself, through inner experience, roughly between the ages of fifty-six and sixty-three. Only old age, the twilight of life, gives us the opportunity to gain a small insight into what reigns within us during the first seven years of childhood. This is an uncomfortable reality; for today, people want to be fully formed human beings even before they have barely outgrown their youthful years. And it is uncomfortable today to admit to oneself that there is something in this world—even something within oneself—that one must reach the age of fifty to understand. And yet, when it comes to understanding—to inner, human understanding, as we can first attain it as human beings—we can begin to understand certain aspects of what takes place in human nature during the years when sexual maturity develops, that is, from the seventh to the fourteenth year of life, between the ages of forty-nine and fifty-six, at the beginning of one’s fifties.

[ 13 ] It would be good if such truths were to gain acceptance, for through them one would learn to understand life itself, whereas the other truths that are usually posited about human beings are simply what people wish them to be. One simply does not realize that unconscious desires are at work here. And again, what takes place within us from puberty until the age of twenty-one, we gain some inner, experiential insight into this, so that we can form a certain judgment about it between the ages of forty-two and forty-nine; and likewise, regarding what takes place in one’s twenties up to the age of twenty-eight, we can gain some insight into this between the ages of thirty-five and forty-two. What I say about these things is based on genuine observation of life, which one must undertake by familiarizing oneself with spiritual scientific observation—and not by engaging in that nonsense of “self-knowledge” that is often called self-knowledge today, but rather by pursuing true self-knowledge, that is, knowledge of the human being. And it is precisely during the period from about the twenty-eighth to the thirty-fifth year of life that one can experience something which, at the very moment of experiencing it, one can also understand; there is a certain balance between understanding and thinking. In the first half of life, one can think about various things and imagine various things; to experience with understanding what one can imagine in the first half of life, one must wait for the second half of life.

[ 14 ] It is an uncomfortable truth, but that is how life is. I can even imagine people saying: Yes, if human beings are so precisely determined by their inner laws, where, then, is human free will? Where is freedom? Where is the awareness of our humanity? — Certainly, I can also imagine that someone might feel unfree simply because they cannot be in Europe and America at the same time, or that someone might feel unfree because they cannot reach down and grab the moon. But facts do not conform to human desires; rather, even when it comes to a person gaining insight into themselves, it is necessary to take these facts into account. These facts are as follows: We do not live a life of constant change and metamorphosis for no reason. We live this life in such a way that each period of life has its own meaning and significance in relation to the others. And to that end, we live—as we say—a normal life, if we are granted such a life, well into our sixties—we will also speak tomorrow from this perspective about early death—so that it is only in the second half of life, in a certain sense, that it becomes clear to us what was at work within us in the first half of life. People would be able to orient themselves in the world much more securely and correctly if this understanding of life were to take hold. For then one would build upon a true foundation of life, whereas today, because people often guide themselves not by objectivity but by their desires, they simply cling to the idea: Well, yes, one has to learn certain things until one’s twenties, but afterward one is a fully formed person, ready for anything life may bring. In doing so, one completely overlooks the inner cohesion of life. Getting to know life is truly an inner task. And especially when it comes to this intimate task, one must not overlook the fact that desires must be set aside and that objectivity must be taken into account.

[ 15 ] Now, a certain balance has emerged in the course of human evolution. In earlier times, things were quite different; I have already spoken about this: You will recall how I spoke of human development from the Atlantean era to the present day, of humanity becoming ever younger. A certain balance has been achieved because, in the course of evolution, it has become apparent that one element is related to the other. If that had not happened, then one would simply have to approach life this way: Someone who is only in their twenties would have to believe the forty-year-old regarding certain matters pertaining to truths within the human being—truths that one can only grasp so vividly in one’s forties, as I have just described. It is not quite like that, but in the course of human development, the concepts themselves and the ideas have become such that one can have a certain intuitive conviction at one stage of life regarding another. If one has enough openness to let forty- and fifty-year-olds share their life experiences—assuming, of course, that they have had any; today, people usually do not—and if one allows oneself to hear these life experiences while still younger, then one is not, after all, reliant on mere belief in authority; this has already come about through human development; but by thinking—for as a young person one can only think—there is more in the nature and character that these thoughts have taken on than what merely appeals to faith; there is already a certain potential within them to truly understand. Otherwise, one would have to say: In youth, a person thinks; in old age, they understand. But there is already something in this that can teach one more than a matter of faith, more than a mere authoritative conviction. This provides a certain balance.

[ 16 ] But take what I have said as a truth of life. If you take it as a truth of life, it will shed light on how you live your life. Just think for a moment: if what I have said is present in life—if it is thought, felt, and experienced by people—how that will be expressed in human relationships! How it creates, so to speak, binding links from soul to soul! A young person looks upon an older person in a special way when they know: This person can experience something that, in relation to them—who can only think—is a grasping of the thought itself. One takes a completely different kind of interest in the insights that a person of a different age can share when one understands life in this way. And in turn, even when one has reached an advanced age, one retains an interest in what is teeming around us as younger people—even as children. You remember how often I have said: “The wisest person can learn from a small child!” — Certainly, it is precisely the wisest person who will gladly and lovingly learn from the little child. Even if he does not wish to be instructed by the little child on morality or other views of life, he could draw an infinite amount of wisdom from the child, particularly with regard to cosmic mysteries, which are experienced quite differently in the little child than in the adult. The connection that exists from soul to soul grows significantly stronger when such things are not merely abstract theories, but rather wisdom gained from life itself.

[ 17 ] True spiritual science has the distinctive characteristic of strengthening, elevating, and invigorating the bonds of love, which must essentially be based on the bonds of mutual interest that people have for one another. Ordinary intellectual wisdom can leave people cold—as cold as many scholars are. Spiritual science, when truly grasped in its essence, cannot leave people cold; rather, it will, under all circumstances, lead people to love one another, seeking to strengthen and elevate mutual human interest.

[ 18 ] Today I intended to tell you a few things that are unpleasant in life, but which are truths and facts—because one cannot make progress in spiritual science unless one gets used to boldly facing the facts, even when they are uncomfortable.

[ 19 ] Another fact—as is already evident from yesterday’s reflections—is that the intellect, as we can attain it in the present cycle of humanity, is only capable of fostering understanding over a certain period of time. I really do not envy those people who today set about with a light heart translating Aeschylus, even Homer, the Psalms, and so on; truly, I do not envy these people! That in our present age there can be a belief that such philistine drivel as Mr. Wilamowitz’s translations of the Greek dramas truly captures Aeschylus or the like is simply a sad sign of the times. One cannot observe things as soon as they take on a grand scale; often, one lacks the patience to observe the small details as well. It would be good if, just as an exercise, one tried to observe the small details. I’d like to give you an example of a rather childlike, small matter.

[ 20 ] I recently read an essay in one of those international journals published here in Switzerland in which the socialist writer Kautsky complained in particular about a Russian socialist because that Russian socialist had quoted him in the most appalling manner, so that the very opposite of what is written in Kautsky’s books was presented as Kautsky’s opinion. Given the nature of the matter and the personalities involved, it was quite out of the question that there had been any deliberate distortion of Kautsky’s text. I then read the essay by the person in question myself, but I also found it curious what was presented there as Kautsky’s opinion. And even as I was reading, I formed an opinion on the matter, for I was interested in how such a thing could be possible at all; but very soon, as I read the essay, I realized what must have happened, and this was confirmed to me afterward when the person in question apologized—though I didn’t see that until later. The person in question had not read Kautsky’s book in German, but had read it in a Russian translation, and, having written his essay in German, had back-translated it. So this is what had happened: a translation from German into Russian and a back-translation. As a result, the opposite of what was written in the German book emerged and was cited!

[ 21 ] That is all it takes when something is translated faithfully from one language to another; that is all it takes to turn things on their head! And this doesn’t even require resorting to inaccuracies, but essentially just the principles that are commonly applied in translation today. It is a small, childish observation that I have cited. But anyone who has the patience to observe such things and similar phenomena in life should really no longer find it incomprehensible when told: It is impossible to understand Homer readily with the means available to us today; any such understanding is merely an illusion.

[ 22 ] Well, that is the outward aspect of the matter. But there is also a much more inner aspect to it. The state of mind in Homeric times was so fundamentally different from that of modern humans that modern people are also far removed from the possibility of understanding Homer for this reason. For the modern state of mind is such that it is fundamentally tinged with intellectuality. That was not the case with the Homeric state of mind. People today cannot shed this influence if they remain in their ordinary, everyday state of mind. This state of mind compels people—more strongly than they realize and more strongly than they are aware of—to live in abstract concepts, in which Homer did not live at all. But it, in turn, becomes difficult for people to reconcile this with their subconscious or unconscious desires, so that they say to themselves: Yes, with the understanding that is the normal understanding of the present, one must give up on understanding anything that originates from the time of Homer or even just the time of Aeschylus. — This renunciation on the part of human beings is something that is very much at odds with their subconscious desires. This is where spiritual science must step in; it does not remain within the ordinary state of mind, but rather evokes a comprehensive state of mind, so that one can put oneself in states of mind that are of a different kind than the normal states of mind of the present. Through the methods of spiritual science, one can in turn penetrate into that which cannot be reached by contemporary understanding or the present state of mind. This renunciation, this resignation, would be of immense importance for people today—to tell themselves: The understanding we can possess extends only over a certain stage of human development. — Even when looking toward the future, it is not entirely unimportant to keep such things in mind.

[ 23 ] No matter how clearly you express yourself today, no matter how clearly you write or speak, or how faithfully you record what is said, it won’t be long—for in the near future, time will pass more quickly, if I may use this paradoxical expression, than it did in the past—before it becomes completely impossible to understand what we say or write today in the same way that we understand it now. It is, again, only over a certain span into the future that our capacity for understanding is sufficient to grasp what we say and write. The historian relies on historical documents, wishing to depend solely on external records. But whether one understands something or not does not depend on whether such documents exist or not, but rather on whether the capacity for understanding extends that far. Now, this capacity for understanding certainly does not extend back to more distant times. And if one lacks the willingness to accept this, then Kant-Laplacean theories or the like emerge. I have, after all, spoken about this on several occasions. What, after all, is such a Kant-Laplacean theory other than a futile attempt to use the intellect of the present to conceive of the origin of the world, even though our understanding—our normal state of mind—has drifted so far from the origin of the world that what we conceive of regarding time based on our current understanding of the world—which is supposed to correspond to the Kant-Laplacean theory—can no longer resemble it at all.

[ 24 ] This awareness—that it is necessary to draw upon other forms of knowledge when one goes beyond a certain period of time and a certain distance—is precisely what spiritual science must also bring about. Human beings cannot gain insight into a period of time that lies beyond a certain point in the past unless they turn to spiritual scientific research, unless they attempt to understand existence using senses other than those to which the intellect is bound. Now, if one considers what I have just said, one will surely realize how narrowly defined the horizon of modern humanity must be if it does not wish to take refuge in other levels of research, in other levels of cognition, for those things that ordinary intellectuality—which actually sets the tone today—cannot reach in order to comprehend them. We know that one can ascend to imaginative, inspired, and intuitive knowledge. These forms of knowledge then lead into other paths; they alone can supplement what can only be viewed as an island of existence when one relies on the present state of the soul.

[ 25 ] What constitutes the present state of the soul is actually bound up with the human “I”; you can read about this in my *Theosophy*, *Outline of Esoteric Science*, and so on. But human beings also carry within themselves other aspects of their being—as we know: the astral body, the etheric body, and the physical body. Yet their ordinary, present-day state of soul does not extend down into the astral body, nor into the etheric body, nor into the physical body. For what the anatomist perceives from the outside is, after all, merely the outer surface. Inner insight does not extend beyond the “I,” let alone beyond the physical body. One must learn to observe the human being with understanding from within, and even that insight into life of which I spoke at the beginning of today’s reflections is a beginning of this inner insight; even what one can grasp in the second half of life is a beginning, albeit a faint one; for a better beginning, one must ascend to spiritual science. When one grasps the human being inwardly, one descends from the mere intellect toward the will. Yesterday I mentioned: The subject of the will—the true willer within us—preserves the cosmic memory. One must therefore descend into the human being. What a person, if they had the will to do so, could develop through the cultivation of normal life wisdom in the second half of life would be a beginning of this descent. It would not, admittedly, shed light on much, but it would shed light on what a person needs for life. If, however, a person then descends with this developed higher knowledge, the memory of the cosmos opens up to them through this descent into their own being. What emerges, however, is something different from the Kant-Laplacean theory—namely, what we carry within our physical bodies right now. You know that, in its structure, this is our oldest aspect, dating back to our fourth past earthly incarnation. If one descends into it, one learns to recognize what this fourth past earthly incarnation of the Saturn era was like. But one can learn from the ordinary wisdom of life that unfolds in the second half of life what one must do to delve ever deeper into the essence of the human being, who is a reflection of the world, and thereby, by coming to know this reflection—that is, oneself—to come to know the world.

[ 26 ] It is mostly subconscious or unconscious desires that control a person when, with a light heart or in complete comfort, he conceives of something that he should actually recognize as beyond his capacity to conceive—such as the Kant-Laplace theory or the like. And with that we touch once again—we must, I would say, approach our tasks in a circular fashion—on what prevents people today from building the bridge between the ideal and reality, a matter that is now very much on our minds.

[ 27 ] People throughout history who were searching for a worldview have strived to move beyond these issues. But it is difficult to gain complete clarity on these matters, precisely because it is uncomfortable—because people are reluctant to confront the real facts. In our time, it has become common—I would say—to acknowledge half of the truth everywhere, but not the other half. Here is a classic example: Karl Marx once said that philosophers had so far only endeavored to interpret the world through their concepts; what matters, however, is to change the world—one must truly find ideas through which the world is changed. — The first part is absolutely correct. Philosophers have striven, insofar as they are philosophers, to interpret the world, and if they were even a little sensible, they did not believe at all that they could do anything other than interpret the world. Only the very archetype of all philosophical philistinism, Wilhelm Traugott Krug—who was active in Leipzig from 1809 to 1834 and wrote a great many books ranging from fundamental philosophy to the highest levels of philosophy—demanded of the Hegelian philosophers that not only to deduce concepts but also, for once, the development of the quill—which made Hegel very indignant. But even in this realm, resignation is necessary—the kind that says: Certainly, we humans are called upon, as whole human beings, to change the world, insofar as the world consists of human lives. But the kind of thinking that characterizes the present is simply not capable of bringing about this change. Here one must have the resignation to say to oneself: This thinking, which the person of the present possesses, which is so gloriously sufficient, which is truly well-suited to understanding nature—this thinking is completely unsuited to achieving anything where the point is that the will should act.

[ 28 ] But that is an inconvenient truth. For once one sees through this, one no longer says: “Philosophers have so far endeavored to interpret the world, but what matters is to change the world”—and harbors the secret belief that one can contribute to this through some kind of dialectic; rather, one says to oneself: “Philosophers, precisely because they are capable of setting things in motion, have been sufficient only for interpretation.” With nature, it is enough for us merely to interpret it, for nature—one might say, thank God—exists without us, and we can be content to interpret it. Social and political life, however, does not exist without us, and there we cannot be content merely to grasp it with concepts that are only suited to interpreting life and not to shaping it. It is therefore necessary to rise from mere theorizing—which, as I explained yesterday, consists mostly of hallucinations and is truly the hobbyhorse of the present—to the life of reality. And the life of reality, as manifested in facts, demands that we not take this life as straightforwardly as we are accustomed to doing. Certainly, ideas that one person conveys to another lead to something; but they do not always lead to the same thing. There are just as few absolute truths as there are absolute facts, and just as few absolute facts as there are absolute truths; everything is relative. And the effect of something I say is determined not merely by whether I consider it true or not, but by what people are like in a particular era—how they react to it, if I may use that expression. I would like to cite a significant case that is very important to consider.

[ 29 ] If one goes back to around the 14th century of the Christian era, it was possible to present mysticism to people before that century. At that time, mystical concepts still had the power to educate and inspire people. The Eastern peoples of Asia—the Indians, the Japanese, and the Chinese—have largely retained these qualities, because certain characteristics of earlier stages of human development are preserved by specific groups of people in later times. One can still study many things today that were also the case among European populations in earlier times; but the entire spiritual constitution of humanity has changed. And anyone who today, for example, passes on mysticism or presents it to others must be aware that the age is drawing ever closer in which, by conveying mysticism—true mysticism — the mysticism of Meister Eckhart, Tauler, and the like — one, through the way people react to it, ends up teaching them precisely what Lucifer draws out of them, what leads them to quarrels and strife. And it may well be that there is no better way to set any sect up for quarrels and strife, for discord, for mutual recriminations, than by delivering mystical, pious sermons to them. Now, taken at face value, this seems downright impossible; but it is a factual truth. It is a factual truth because what matters is not only the content of what is said, but also the way in which people react to things. And one must know the world. And above all, one must not shape one’s views according to one’s own desires.

[ 30 ] I am constantly reminded of that conversation I once had in a city in southern Germany with two Catholic priests who were in the audience for a lecture I gave at the time on the Bible and wisdom. The two Catholic priests couldn’t really raise any valid objections. The lecture dealt precisely with topics on which they couldn’t really raise any valid objections. But priests, even if they can’t raise any objections, naturally cannot accept such a thing; so they have to object to something. So they said: “Yes, in terms of content, we could say more or less the same thing you said.” But what we say, we say in a way that everyone can understand; you, however, are speaking only to a certain group of people who have a certain level of education, and whatever is presented to people must be understandable to everyone.” — To that I replied: “Yes, you see, whether you believe something is understandable to everyone or I believe it is—that is not the point.” What matters is not our theoretical views on what people understand, but rather the study of reality. And you can easily test this for yourself. I ask you: If you were to apply these methods and present this in your church today in the way you believe everyone can understand—would everyone come to your church, or aren’t some already staying outside today? The fact that some are staying outside is far more important than your belief that you speak for everyone. For that is the reality: some are already staying outside. That you believe you are speaking for everyone—that is your belief. And I speak on behalf of those who no longer attend your church, because I believe that one must accept reality, and that one can also speak to those who no longer attend church but who are nonetheless entitled to seek the path to the spiritual worlds. — This trivial example illustrates the difference between thinking in accordance with reality, allowing one’s views of reality to be dictated by it, and how most people believe they know whatever they happen to be spinning out of their imagination, conjuring up, and wishing for—and then swear by it. The researcher of reality is even prepared at any time to set aside anything he considers correct and, when the facts teach him otherwise, to adopt a different line of thought, because reality is not as straightforward as people would like it to be.

[ 31 ] And so it may well be—and will increasingly be the case—for this is the trend in the development of human nature—that while one seeks to instill the most devout and heartfelt mysticism of a sect, the members of that sect become more and more quarrelsome. But it is equally impossible to teach people one-sided scientific views. To gain scientific insights, one needs a great deal of acumen, and you know: I am by no means inclined to fall short of anyone in my full recognition of scientific truths. But the fact also remains: If one were to teach the world only scientific truths or truths of a scientific nature, then the acumen expended on discovering scientific truths would contribute significantly to condemning people to a state of bondage. Just as one-sided mysticism would lead more and more to strife and conflict, one-sided natural science, as understood today, would lead people to inner bondage and inner constraint. So you see, it is entirely well-considered when spiritual science strives neither to be one-sidedly mystical nor one-sidedly scientific, but does justice to each individual without underestimating or overestimating them, while progressing from duality to trinity. Not “either/or,” but “both/and”—the illumination of one through the other—that is what spiritual science leads to of its own accord. For example, it is always harmful when a person with a purely scientific mindset rails against mysticism; for what he says will, as a rule, be nonsense. But it is just as much nonsense, as a rule, when a purely mystical person, who knows nothing of scientific findings, rails against the natural sciences. To rail against mysticism—if I may put it that way—should really be permitted only to a mystic, and to rail against the natural sciences here and there should be permitted only to one who knows the natural sciences. Then his views will indeed be as he says, since they will be properly weighed. But it will always be a bad thing when someone who understands nothing about science—and who perhaps believes himself to be a great mystic—passes judgment on science, or when a natural scientist, who understands nothing of mysticism, passes judgment on it. In the realm of the humanities, it has been said time and again: Certain truths must seem paradoxical to people because they contradict so strongly the comfortable perspective of ordinary life.

[ 32 ] Well, today I have presented you with a whole series of things that, in a sense, have struck your soul without being resolved. I have presented you with some facts of life that must be acknowledged, even if one would prefer things to be different. Many who consider themselves great people today, capable of many things, have no idea about these truths of life. But that is precisely what underlies the catastrophes of our time: that our age so desperately needs to get to know this life, yet refuses to do so.

[ 33 ] Tomorrow we will discuss some of the things that should help resolve certain contradictions that have rightly stirred your souls today.