The Rudolf Steiner Archive

3. The Night Person and the Day Person. In ‘Pure Thought: Can the “I” Be Inserted Into It?’

[ 1 ] As we may have seen from yesterday’s reflections, it is important for people today to orient themselves within the course of human development in order to imbue themselves with the awareness of what the current state of the soul must be so that a person can be human in the true sense of the word.

[ 2 ] The day before yesterday, I used an analogy to highlight the importance of an awareness of time. I said that the insect has the task of undergoing certain transformations within itself in step with the cycle of the year. The insect follows the cycle of the year in its own development. It performs very specific physical activities in spring, summer, fall, and winter, and it completes the cycle of its life in connection with this annual cycle. Thus, I said, human beings must find a way to consciously place themselves today—not within a brief span of time, but within the entire course of the Earth, within the historical course of the Earth. They should know how their soul experiences must have been shaped in ancient times, how in the Middle Ages, and how they must be shaped today.

[ 3 ] When we look back to the early stages of human development and see how humanity drew its strength—the strength to know, the strength to live—from the mysteries, we find that for those who were to be initiated into the mysteries, the goal of their initiation was, so to speak, always defined in a very specific way. Those to be initiated must realize that they have to undergo exercises that ultimately lead to the experience of death; the human being must pass through death with full awareness during earthly life so that, from this experience of death, he may gain the deeper insight into his own immortal, eternal being. That, I would say, was the secret of the ancient mysteries: to gain, through the experiential knowledge of death, a deep conviction of the human immortal being.

[ 4 ] Now, in recent days, we have seen where this stems from. It stems from the fact that, in those earlier times, human beings could not have attained self-knowledge as human beings in any other way than by bringing to mind what happened to them immediately after death. People in those ancient times only became the free, thinking beings—as they already know themselves to be today while still living on Earth—after death. Only after death, in the early stages of human development, could a person say: “I am truly a being standing on my own, an individuality standing on my own.” — “Look beyond death,” the ancient sages might have said to their disciples, “and you will know what a human being is.”

[ 5 ] That is why, in the mysteries, a person was to undergo death symbolically, so that through this experience of dying, they might gain the conviction of eternal life and being. Thus, in essence, the quest for the mysteries was a quest for death in order to find life.

[ 6 ] Today, however, things have changed for human beings, and this is precisely the most important impulse in human development. What human beings experienced after death in ancient times—that they became thinking beings in their own right, that they became free beings in their own right—human beings today must find within the period of time that lies between birth and death. But how do they find it there? They first find their thoughts when they practice self-knowledge. But now, throughout the entire time we have been studying the nature of the human being from a certain point of view, we have found that these thoughts—namely, the thoughts that human beings have been developing since the first third of the 15th century, since the time of Nicholas of Cusa—are actually dead as thoughts; they are corpses. That which was alive lived in pre-earthly existence. Before human beings descended to Earth as soul-spiritual beings, they lived a spiritual life. This spiritual life died with their arrival on Earth, and they experience what has died within themselves as their thinking. The first thing a human being must recognize is that, although in modern times he can attain true self-knowledge—an awareness of himself as a spiritual-soul being—what emerges from this self-knowledge is something dead, something spiritually corpse-like; and that it is precisely into this dead, spiritually corpse-like substance that what comes from the will must flow—from that will of which I spoke yesterday, which, from the moment of falling asleep until waking, is actually within nothingness, anchored in the astral body and in the “I.” The “I” must shoot into these dead thoughts and must enliven them.

[ 7 ] Therefore, in ancient times, all the care taken during initiation was essentially directed toward tempering certain aspects of the human being. In fact, the ancient initiation was a kind of calming of the inner human abilities and powers. Anyone who traces the course of the ancient initiation will find that, in essence, the individual underwent an initiatory training that led him to soothe his inner—if I may say so—agitation, to subdue the inner emotionality otherwise present in ordinary life, so that what the individual possessed in ordinary life, the filling of their entire being with divine-spiritual forces that interweave and permeate the cosmos, would be subdued, and they would consciously sink into a kind of sleep, so that in this consciousness—subdued to a kind of sleep—they might then awaken to what they otherwise experience only after death: calm thinking, the feeling of themselves as individuality. The ancient initiation system was thus a kind of calming system.

[ 8 ] Even today, people often retain this longing for reassurance, and they feel at ease when old principles of initiation are revived and they are led back to them. But this no longer corresponds to the nature of modern human beings. Modern human beings can approach initiation only by saying to themselves with all depth and intensity: When I look within myself, I find my thinking. But this thinking is dead. I no longer need to seek death. I carry it within my spiritual-soul being. — Whereas the initiate of old had to be led up to the stage where he experienced death, the modern initiate must make it increasingly clear to himself: I do indeed have death in my spiritual-soul life. I do indeed carry it within me. I do not need to seek it. On the contrary, I must, out of an inner, volitional-creative principle, breathe life into the dead thoughts. — And everything I have described in *How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?* is directed toward this breathing of life into the dead thoughts, toward this infusion of the will into the inner life of the soul, so that the human being may awaken. For while the old initiation had to be a kind of lulling to sleep, the new initiation must be a kind of awakening. What a person unconsciously experiences during sleep must be brought into the very innermost life of the soul. Through active effort, a person must come to awaken themselves inwardly.

[ 9 ] To do this, it is necessary to grasp the concept of sleep in all its relativity. One must be clear about what anthroposophical insight actually entails with regard to this idea of sleep. Let us place side by side two people: one who knows nothing of the things presented in anthroposophical insight, and next to him a person who has truly taken in anthroposophy with inner engagement and interest—not merely through passive listening or reading, but with genuine inner interest: then the one who has not taken in anthroposophy is like a sleeper compared to the one who has taken in anthroposophy and has been awakened within it, just as a person is awakened in the morning when they emerge from unconsciousness into their physical body. And we attain the proper position within anthroposophy, we attain the proper orientation for the anthroposophical movement, only when we regard it in such a way that it gives us something like waking up in the morning; when we compare approaching anthroposophy in the true sense to what we feel when we pass from the unconsciousness of sleep into the perception of an external world. If we can also feel this: Just as the immersion into the physical body upon waking gives us a world—not merely a form of knowledge, but a world—so too does the immersion into anthroposophical knowledge give us a world, a form of knowledge that is not merely knowledge, but is a world in and of itself, a world into which we awaken. As long as we view anthroposophy merely as another worldview, we do not have the right attitude toward anthroposophy. We have the right attitude toward anthroposophy only when the person who becomes an anthroposophist feels that he is awakening within anthroposophy. And he awakens when he says to himself: The concepts and ideas that the world previously gave me are corpses of concepts and ideas; they are dead. Anthroposophy awakens this corpse within me.

[ 10 ] If you understand this in the right sense, then you will rise above all that is often said against anthroposophy and the understanding of anthroposophy. People say: Yes, a person who is not an anthroposophist learns something in the world today. This is proven to them. So they can understand it because it is proven to them. In anthroposophy, however, mere assertions are put forward that remain unproven—that is what the world very often says. But the world does not know what the reality is regarding what it considers to be proven. The world would simply have to come to the realization that all the laws of nature, all the thoughts that people form from the world—that these, when experienced correctly, are something dead. So what is “proven” to them is something dead. They cannot understand it. Only when one begins to perceive what is today the ordinary worldview as something dead does one say to oneself: “I do not understand precisely what is being proven to me, just as I do not understand a corpse, because it is the remnant of a living being. I understand a corpse only when I know to what extent it was permeated by life.”

[ 11 ] And so one must tell oneself: What is considered proven today cannot, in reality, be understood through a deeper grasp of the subject. And in fact, understanding only truly takes hold of what civilization otherwise offers today when one allows the spark of anthroposophy to penetrate it. — The one who is right is the one who, let’s say, to a mere natural scientist of today who comes to him and says, “I can prove my case; you cannot prove it”—replies: “Certainly, you can prove everything in your own way, but precisely what you have proven to me only becomes understandable to me when I allow the spark of anthroposophy to penetrate it.” — That is precisely the response the anthroposophist, speaking from a heart fully imbued with a living spiritual life, can give to the non-anthroposophist. The anthroposophist should say: “You are lulling yourself to sleep with your knowledge of nature; you are lulling yourself to sleep to such an extent that you say: ‘I have the limits of natural science; I cannot wake up at all; I can only state that with my knowledge of nature I cannot approach the spiritual at all.’ You even have a theory to justify your slumber. But I want to refute precisely this theory justifying your slumber by bringing what is there—that slumber—to awakening.

[ 12 ] I drew attention to something like this in the first chapter of my book *The Mysteries of the Soul*. There I expressed what has, however, been repeatedly stated in lectures: that a person who remains within the confines of present-day civilization simply says that one encounters all sorts of limits to knowledge that cannot be transcended. And so they reassure themselves. But this reassurance means nothing other than that they do not want to awaken; they want to remain asleep. The person who now wishes to enter the spiritual world in the modern sense must begin to grapple with the inner tasks of the soul precisely where the other person sets the limits of knowledge. And as he begins to grapple with these ideas that are set as limits, the view into the spiritual world opens up to him step by step, gradually. One must simply take what is presented in anthroposophy as it is intended.

[ 13 ] Take this first chapter from *On the Riddles of the Soul*. It may be imperfectly written, but one can at least discern the intention behind it. It was written with the intention of making one say to oneself: If I remain within the current civilization, then the world is effectively boarded up for me. Knowledge of nature: one keeps moving forward, then the boards appear, and the world is boarded up for me. — What is written in this first chapter of *On the Riddles of the Soul* is an attempt to break down these boards with a spade. If one has this feeling—that one is performing a task to break down, with a spade, the boards with which the world has been boarded up for centuries—if one regards the words as spades, then one approaches the soul-spiritual realm.

[ 14 ] Most people have an unconscious feeling: a chapter like the first one, “On the Mysteries of the Soul,” is written with a pen from which ink flows. It is not written with a pen, but rather with spiritual spades that seek to tear down the boards that shut out the world—that is, to remove the boundaries of our understanding of nature—but to do so through inner spiritual work. Thus, one must actively participate in spiritual activity while reading such a chapter.

[ 15 ] It is quite remarkable what kinds of ideas arise specifically from reading anthroposophical books. I understand these ideas and often do not disagree with them, because they have value for the individual; but let us take, for example, *The Secret Science*. Some people have come along who think they can do something for this “Secret Science” on my behalf by painting the entire “Secret Science” so that it would be presented to people in pictures. This longing has arisen. Samples of this have even been submitted. I have nothing against it; if these samples are good, one can even admire them—it is, after all, quite lovely to create such things. But from what longing do they spring? They spring from the longing to strip away the most important aspects of *The Secret Science* and to present people with images that are, once again, mere planks of wood. For what matters is—just as with our language and how writing has become so hideous, this dreadful writing or even having it printed—to take it as it is, not to rebel against what civilization has brought about, and to accept it in such a way that the reader can immediately transcend it, that he can immediately step out of it and now create for himself all the images that have flowed into the hideous ink—that is, create them himself. The more individually each person creates these images for himself, the better it is. If someone else anticipates this for him, then he, in turn, walls off the world from him. I certainly do not wish to deliver a tirade against the pictorial rendering of what is depicted in “The Secret Science” through imaginations—of course not—but I would simply like to point out what is, in essence, necessary for everyone as an active, experiential engagement with this subject.

[ 16 ] These things must be understood correctly today. One must come to view anthroposophy not merely as something one delves into in the same way one delves into other subjects, but rather as something that requires a change in thinking and feeling—a change that presupposes that a person becomes different from what they were before. So, for example, if an astronomical chapter is presented based on anthroposophy, one cannot simply take that astronomical chapter and compare it with conventional astronomy, and then begin to prove and disprove points back and forth. That makes no sense at all; rather, one must be clear about this: the astronomical chapter drawn from anthroposophy is only understandable once that shift in thinking and feeling is in place. So if a refutation of any anthroposophical chapter appears somewhere today, and there is a written defense published using the same methods as the refutation, then nothing has actually been accomplished—absolutely nothing—because people are simply talking back and forth using the same way of thinking. That is not what matters at all; what matters is that anthroposophy be sustained by a new way of life. And that is absolutely necessary today.

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[ 17 ] It is quite remarkable what kinds of ideas arise specifically from the anthroposophical books. I understand these ideas and often do not contradict them, because they have their value for the individual; but let us take, for example, *The Secret Science*. Some people have come along who think they can do something for this “Secret Science” on my behalf by painting the entire “Secret Science” so that it would be presented to people in pictures. This longing has arisen. Samples of this have even been submitted. I have nothing against it; if these samples are good, one can even admire them—it is, after all, quite lovely to create such things. But from what longing do they spring? They spring from the longing to strip away the most important aspects of *The Secret Science* and to present people with images that are, once again, mere planks of wood. For what matters is—just as with our language and how writing has become so hideous, this dreadful writing or even having it printed—to take it as it is, not to rebel against what civilization has brought about, and to accept it in such a way that the reader can immediately transcend it, that he can immediately step out of it and now create for himself all the images that have flowed into that hideous ink—that is, create them himself. The more individually each person creates these images for himself, the better it is. If someone else anticipates this for him, then that person, in turn, walls off the world from him. I certainly do not wish to deliver a tirade against the pictorial rendering of what is depicted in “The Secret Science” through imaginations—of course not—but I would simply like to point out what is, in essence, necessary for everyone as an active, experiential engagement with this subject.

[ 18 ] These things must be understood correctly today. One must come to view anthroposophy not merely as something one delves into in the same way one delves into other subjects, but rather as something that requires a change in thinking and feeling—a change that presupposes that a person transforms themselves into someone different from what they were before. So, for example, if an astronomical chapter is presented based on anthroposophy, one cannot simply take that astronomical chapter and compare it with conventional astronomy, and then begin to prove and disprove points back and forth. That makes no sense at all; rather, one must be clear about this: the astronomical chapter drawn from anthroposophy is only understandable once that shift in thinking and feeling is in place. So if a refutation of any anthroposophical chapter appears somewhere today, and there is a written defense published using the same methods as the refutation, then nothing has actually been accomplished—absolutely nothing—because people are simply talking back and forth using the same way of thinking. That is not what matters at all; what matters is that anthroposophy be sustained by a new way of life. And that is absolutely necessary today.

[ 19 ] It is urgently necessary, at this stage in the history of the Anthroposophical Society, to speak specifically about these matters, for they are beginning to be misunderstood in the most fundamental way. To this end, let me offer a few reflections today on the way in which the Anthroposophical Society has come into being. You see, it did not come into being because it sought to do so, but rather because it arose out of the circumstances of life; it came into being because, at the beginning of our century, it was in a certain loose, external connection with the Theosophical Society. This Theosophical Society, in essence, has always strived to bring ancient principles of initiation into the present. Fate would have it that it was precisely within Theosophical circles that anthroposophy could first be discussed. I have explained the reasons for this on several occasions, and I do not wish to repeat them today. I did, after all, allude to them in the first essay I wrote in the series: “The Goetheanum in Its Ten Years” [in GA 36].

[ 20 ] But at that time, anthroposophy had to carve out an independent path for itself from the modern conception of the spiritual, which, I would say, in the broadest sense tended more toward theosophy: toward the revival of ancient methods of initiation. Just how grotesquely these old methods of initiation clash with the demands of modern civilization became particularly evident around the years 1907, 1908, 1909, and 1910, when this spiritual movement—which had a theosophical character—tackled the problem of Christ. At that point, this theosophical movement produced the absurdity of a Christ Jesus incarnated in a present-day human child. And this was followed by all the other absurdities that the theosophical movement has produced. From the very beginning, anthroposophy—in contrast to theosophy—was meant to lead to a correct understanding of the Mystery of Golgotha. That is why, in the early period of anthroposophical life, the focus was primarily on the interpretation of the Gospels, which served as a guide to a correct understanding of the Mystery of Golgotha. And at a time when, with regard to the Mystery of Golgotha, the other spiritual movement had fallen into the most egregious absurdities, the anthroposophical movement drew ever closer to a genuine, realistic understanding of the Mystery of Golgotha and continued on its path with this understanding of the Mystery of Golgotha, while the theosophical movement could no longer remain connected to it.

[ 21 ] That was the first phase of the anthroposophical endeavor. The significant unifying impulse was present to connect the anthroposophical movement in the right way with the Mystery of Golgotha. And one can say that at the moment when *My Mysteries* could be written, this phase had come to a kind of provisional conclusion. That the anthroposophical movement must be connected to a correct understanding of the Mystery of Golgotha was, at that time, a general conviction among anthroposophists. And the momentum that the anthroposophical movement had at that time, up until around the years 1908, 1909, and so on, stemmed from the fact that a true understanding of the Mystery of Golgotha had been attained through a new spiritual approach, and everything was oriented in such a way that the Mystery of Golgotha could stand at the center of understanding. This is what gave the Anthroposophical Society its character at that time.

[ 22 ] But the things that exist in external, real life go through a historical process, and something that is meant to be full of inner life, such as the Anthroposophical Society, goes through that process at a faster “pace” than other things.

[ 23 ] An important phase, for example, in the anthroposophical movement—once anthroposophy had become completely independent of theosophy—was when I gave the lecture series on “Occult Physiology” in Prague, and when, I would say, an ever-increasing understanding of the world could be gained through anthroposophical knowledge. This made it possible to show the world: Anthroposophy is not something that merely floats mystically in the clouds, but truly engages the modern consciousness. It anticipates the emergence of the development of the consciousness-soul. It ventures into realms that can only be understood through spirituality, but which are the realms of the human environment.

[ 24 ] And so, once the Mystery of Golgotha had, so to speak—I would say—been firmly established within the anthroposophical movement, a scientific movement—one that was possible only if the Mystery of Golgotha were taken completely seriously—took its first steps.

[ 25 ] That was difficult to hold onto at a time when everything in Europe was in turmoil, when the World War broke out. We were in the second phase of the anthroposophical movement. In a sense, we had already gone through the process of bearing witness to our commitment: we wanted to remain firmly connected to the Mystery of Golgotha. We had just begun the work of extending the anthroposophical impulse across the various regions of world civilization. And now came the time when people in Europe were so deeply divided from one another, the time when mistrust and hatred ran rampant. A time came when everything that must not exist within an anthroposophical community—if it is to unfold its true life impulse—was thriving. And in a certain sense, it was truly possible, despite the difficulties that existed at the time, to carry on the Anthroposophical Society.

[ 26 ] Let us consider the difficulties that existed. One major difficulty was that the original foundation of anthroposophy had originated in Central Europe, that we had our Goetheanum here in a neutral territory, and that—I would say—any collaboration among people belonging to the most diverse regions of Europe was viewed with immense suspicion from many quarters. Any exchange of ideas or travel back and forth was, after all, an immense difficulty at that time. But the difficulties were overcome back then because they were addressed—my dear friends, this must be said—because they were addressed in the spirit of anthroposophy. I know that some who were part of the anthroposophical movement at that time also criticized certain things, and even took offense, because they did not always immediately grasp what specifically needed to be done in the face of judgments that were tearing the world apart, in order to secure the cohesion that can exist only within an anthroposophical mindset! And so we were able to guide the anthroposophical movement through the difficulties that arose during the European crisis and, in a certain sense, keep it pure. Many of those who were predisposed to mistrust during that time could be led to trust—to the point where, even as complete outsiders, they said to themselves: “Anthroposophy—whatever one’s stance on it may be—is nonetheless something that does not come across as an entity one must mistrust, even when it collaborates with the most diverse nations.”

[ 27 ] Even into the war years—even though it was misunderstood by some, even though some got caught up in this or that which was beginning to divide people in Europe at the time, and even though, driven by some national fervor, they criticized many things that had been done in the spirit of anthroposophy— it was still possible, if I may put it that way, to steer the anthroposophical ship through the great difficulties that existed, and work on our Goetheanum could continue step by step.

[ 28 ] One might say: This second phase, in which anthroposophy was no longer in its embryonic stage—as it had been up until 1908 or 1909—lasted roughly until 1915 or 1916. Of course, its repercussions were felt in many ways.

[ 29 ] But then began a time when the child naturally had to mature: the third phase of the anthroposophical movement, beginning around 1916. Yes, my dear friends, what kind of time is this? It is the time when all sorts of personalities within the anthroposophical movement—which, after all, had grown significantly by then—began to develop ideas, ideas that then ran particularly amok in the postwar period.

[ 30 ] It is simply in the nature of such a movement that the individuals involved must come up with ideas, for such a movement must mature from within. As it grows, leading figures must gradually emerge from within it. And so it was indeed right that certain individuals should come up with such ideas. But what was necessary was precisely that these individuals stick to these ideas with iron will—that these ideas were not merely adopted, turned into a program, and then abandoned again, but that these individuals stuck to them with iron will.

[ 31 ] The ideas that have sought to be realized up to the present day have all been good. What has not been good—and what must change—is the way individuals have behaved toward them: it is simply a matter of gaining perseverance in the pursuit of ideas. This is where a new element necessarily came into play.

[ 32 ] Let’s consider the first phase of the anthroposophical movement. When anthroposophy was still in its infancy, people could approach it and simply had to take it in. In the first phase, it was really just a matter of taking it in, joining the movement, and absorbing what was offered.

[ 33 ] In the second phase, it was necessary for the process of taking things in to be somewhat intertwined with understanding; for example, for people from the world to come forward who truly knew this external world—knew it as scientists, knew it as practitioners; who could thus form the judgment that what was presented to them by anthroposophy also had value for science and practical life. However, it was not yet necessary to be actively involved oneself; one merely needed to take in anthroposophy with sound judgment regarding the external world. In the early phase of anthroposophy, one merely needed to be a person with a warm heart and sound common sense, and one could say “yes” to anthroposophy. Certainly, this must be the case throughout all phases of the anthroposophical movement: that such people with warm hearts and sound common sense take in anthroposophy. But there must also always be some people who know the other world thoroughly and who, from the perspective of that other world—whether as scientists or practitioners—can assess what is brought down to Earth from the spiritual worlds in anthroposophy.

[ 34 ] Well, when the third phase arrived, there was a need for active people—people who, with their will, but with a steadfast will, worked on the things that arose within them as ideas. Just as one cannot succumb to the illusion that a child who has turned 16 is still twelve years old, so too could one not succumb to the illusion that the Anthroposophical Society in 1919 could still be the same as it was, say, in 1907. It was in the nature of things that every desire was accommodated. But it was also always emphasized: Such a desire is only truly justified if one persists, if one persists with unwavering determination. Well, that is precisely what was lacking in many cases. I say this not as a criticism, but as an indication of what must come. But I have often pointed out, in individual cases, what must come. Only in one instance has my drawing attention to this been heeded by the leadership! That was back when I noted that it was necessary to intervene in a certain field, and our friend Leinhas then took on this intervention. Only in this one instance has what I have repeatedly—again and again—identified in one area or another as a necessity—and I say this explicitly: identified—as a necessity of the third phase of the anthroposophical movement actually been heeded in recent times. For, fundamentally speaking, I did not need to make a special effort regarding what the impulses of the first and second phases were. Those things simply carried on. They could safely be left to spiritual karma. It was a different matter with what had emerged through the ideas of individual personalities as something inherently good, but which can only continue to be good if the persistent will of those individual personalities truly intervenes in the course of events. But they must not be allowed to proceed as they have in many cases recently.

[ 35 ] I would like to highlight one example. Let us assume that among the many things that arose from ideas was also the so-called University Alliance. Yes, my dear friends, this University League either had to embody a serious, unwavering will, or it was a stillborn child. This is something I explicitly stated when it was founded.

[ 36 ] What is the point of such a statement, my dear friends? Simply to draw people’s attention to the fact that if you let up in your determination, things will go wrong. What has become of the University Federation? In Germany, it has become something that only irritates the representatives of the old order and turns them into enemies, precisely because it lacked the energetic will to drive it forward. In Switzerland, the University League was never truly established to begin with; therefore, a resolute will could not infuse it with the same spirit that gave character to the first events held within our now-defunct Goetheanum: the University Lectures. Because there is no driving force behind them, they have, in essence, remained quite ineffective. But they have created enemies. And this constituted a large part of the third phase of our anthroposophical movement: the stirring up of hostilities and antagonisms that are unnecessary when an energetic will stands behind the cause. Of course, hostilities arise; but they are ineffective unless they are justified in some way. And it must always be the case that one can say: No matter how many hostilities may arise, they must not even have the semblance of justification, no matter how vehemently they may manifest themselves.

[ 37 ] I have repeatedly pointed this out—including right here—but let’s see how it came about. Isn’t it true that it is only natural that young people are drawn precisely to the movement that springs so directly from the budding development of the soul of consciousness? We should be glad that young people are drawn to it. But what is the attitude of young people today toward the Anthroposophical Society? Young people today take the view that: “You can’t take that seriously.” — I don’t want to discuss here whether this judgment is justified or not, but it is simply there, and in life one must reckon with the facts.

[ 38 ] I would like to offer you just one external, concrete example of this fact. Some time ago, a group of young people gathered in Stuttgart with the sincere intention of devoting themselves wholeheartedly to the anthroposophical movement. These people had the best of intentions in dedicating themselves to the anthroposophical movement. I was busy here and could not be present on the very first day after the group had gathered in Stuttgart; therefore, I asked one of the members of the Executive Council to stand in for me on the first evening by giving a lecture to the young people. He went there and made the proposal to them. They replied: “Thank you very much, but we do not want a lecture from you.”

[ 39 ] Well, my dear friends, you might say: “That was harsh.” — Say it if you like; but it holds no weight when you say it. The fact was that people were convinced from the very beginning: “No understanding is possible here; he isn’t saying anything that touches our hearts.” — And in Stuttgart I found a situation where the young people were gathered together, yet the existing anthroposophical leadership had been completely out of touch with them. These people, who were truly approaching the anthroposophical movement with warm hearts, were left entirely to their own devices.

[ 40 ] This kind of attitude toward others was certainly possible during the first and second phases of the anthroposophical movement; in the third phase, it was no longer possible, because in the third phase, the focus within the anthroposophical movement began to shift to the individual. And as I said, none of this is said to pin anything on anyone, none of this is said to formulate a criticism; all of this is said because it caused me infinite suffering, because I saw that the personalities who wanted to take the helm here and there in the Anthroposophical Society did not, after all, wish to act entirely out of the anthroposophical spirit. And I have always maintained that the suffering I had to endure as a result of the realization that this third phase of the anthroposophical movement does not wish to move forward as it should—because there are too many mere ideas and the energetic will behind them is lacking—is indescribable.

[ 41 ] There is, in fact, a certain fateful connection in that, when this great misfortune struck us here at the Goetheanum, it became particularly evident that the real harm to anthroposophy lies in inaction, in the unwillingness to take action. And this is precisely what has driven us into the very conflicts that exist today within the Anthroposophical Society—conflicts that should lead to nothing other than an all the more powerful recovery. But to achieve this, we must first honestly recognize what is necessary. Above all, it is necessary not to succumb to illusions about the facts that have gradually driven us into a kind of dead end. It would certainly be an illusion if we were to see the harm in anything other than the failure of certain individuals to remain on the right path. But the Anthroposophical Society can no longer tolerate illusions today. Nor can it tolerate mere fruitless criticism of the past; rather, it can only tolerate pointing out what is actually necessary. And that is to recognize that a wish is not a will; that one must not say, “I have the best of intentions,” if in three weeks this “best of intentions” proves to be nothing at all—but rather that one has simply sat down in one’s chair and, in name only, been what one is in that chair, while possessing nothing but passive good will. But passive good will is a contradiction in terms. Will is only good will when it is active. The anthroposophical movement, in its third phase, cannot tolerate the passing of resolutions such as: “We place ourselves at your disposal.” To pass such resolutions is the worst possible misunderstanding, the worst possible misunderstanding of the actual tasks.

[ 42 ] What is at stake here is for each person to take action right where they stand—not to stop at mere wishes, but to develop the will. It might seem, my dear friends, as if I were trying to paint a gloomy picture today of what is happening within the anthroposophical movement. That is not my intention. But on the other hand, I must not give rise to any illusions—or, rather, I must not contribute in any way to creating illusions. For the point is that we can only make progress if we grasp the kind of consciousness that has been described.

[ 43 ] But you see, my dear friends, I am simply saying: The second phase of the anthroposophical movement brought with it the need to expand beyond the external, worldly realm. I also said: Those who had learned from the world—whether in science or practice—had to step forward as judges. — In the third phase, there were then numerous such individuals who thought: Yes, now we must do something; now we must begin to do something! — They also made resolutions. But that is not what action consists of.

[ 44 ] In the third phase—well, I don’t even want to say how many—we have researchers from a wide variety of scientific fields among us. I don’t even want to say how many! If I were to count them all for you, you’d be amazed. In their view, these researchers are driven by the best of intentions. In my view, they are exceptionally capable. Here, too, I take the view that there is no lack of ability whatsoever. On the contrary, in recent years we have even brought together the most capable people—as if by some miraculous selection—in one place, both here and in Stuttgart. The excuse that there is a lack of ability doesn’t hold water; but there is a lack of will. And as soon as one speaks of this will, the strangest things happen.

[ 45 ] We experienced this in our local science course: one of our researchers had announced a lecture. He didn’t show up! As if to mock us, however, he arrived a few hours later. Yes, my dear friends, if there is no sense of obligation within the Anthroposophical Society, then it simply won’t work. And if you try to tackle these things, they strangely slip through your fingers; they really do slip through your fingers. For example, I wanted to properly address this “problem”—as I’d call it—that has become an issue for me: that one of our researchers simply fails to show up, skips his lecture—I wanted to tackle that in a proper way; but I received a reply to the effect that he didn’t even really know how he’d end up on the program in Dornach! — Yes, my dear friends, when problems slip through one’s fingers like that, then a concerted, energetic will is truly lacking.

[ 46 ] But that is precisely what we need. We do not need a scattering of all sorts of desires and all sorts of things that are often called “goodwill”; rather, we need a will that is faithful to duty. All things can flourish if people approach them in the right way. For anything that does not carry within itself the potential to flourish is not undertaken within the anthroposophical movement in the first place. But we need the will—the truly good, that is, the strong will—of the individuals who are actively involved. We have no use for armchairs; rather, we need active individuals.

[ 47 ] My dear friends, I did not bring about the situation that has led me to say this; rather, it is the individuals themselves who have offered to do everything possible. This has developed from other quarters. That is why the issue today is that responsibilities must be reinforced to the broadest extent possible—that they be truly nurtured, cherished, and also demanded.

[ 48 ] That is what I wanted to tell you, because we are still not done with our current trips to Stuttgart. I have to go back there tomorrow. The next lecture will be next Friday. This afternoon, there will be a eurythmy performance here at 5 o’clock. I ask you once again not to shy away from the second path; preparations for the trip made it necessary for this lecture not to follow the eurythmy performance, but rather to be held in the morning.