The Rudolf Steiner Archive

9. Moral Motivations and Physical Effectiveness in Human Beings. Understanding a Spiritual Path

[ 1 ] It has often been emphasized that the present historical moment in human development is one in which intellectual life has come to set the tone. This present moment was preceded by the period we have characterized in this context as the fourth post-Atlantean epoch, the Greco-Roman era. And as you know, based on certain inner spiritual characteristics of human beings that developed during these epochs, we date the Greco-Roman period from the 8th century B.C. to the 15th century A.D. And since that time, we consider the period in which we are fully immersed in the soul development of Western humanity to be the present historical moment.

[ 2 ] Before the 15th century, humanity’s entire relationship to the intellectual world was quite different from what it became later. And even though, as early as the 4th century A.D., the mood of the human soul toward intellectual life—which had existed in Greece—was already fading into the twilight, there is still, everywhere, even in this second period of the fourth post-Atlantean epoch, a trace of that Greek -Roman spiritual disposition still found expression everywhere; however, this can only be fully grasped if one immerses oneself with a sense of empathy in the particularly characteristic nature of the Greek people, as they were specifically during that period, which history describes rather superficially as the twilight of Greek civilization—the era roughly spanning from Socrates and Plato to the end of Greek civilization.

[ 3 ] Even without delving deeply into the humanities, one can see from everything that shines through the external—one might say superficial—historical account that when the Greeks attained what we today call an intellectual view of the world, found joy—or at least satisfaction—in the belief that, having passed through the various stages of education of that time and being able to form a worldview through the power of the intellect, he had attained an elevation of his humanity through the possession of this worldview. They believed they were human in a higher sense when they could grasp the world intellectually than when they were unable to do so. The inner joy and satisfaction derived from intellectual life were fully present in this fourth post-Atlantean epoch.

[ 4 ] And this can also be seen in later figures. For example, in the case of Johannes Scotus Erigena from the 9th century CE, whom you have often mentioned, one can see from the way he formulates his ideas and presents them that he believes this formulation of ideas contains something capable of stirring up an inner enthusiasm in people. This was certainly still the case—even if a somewhat colder, more analytical discussion later took hold—among those who, often in isolation from the rest of the world within Scholasticism, sought to maintain a worldview through intellectual means. And it is only in the last few centuries that people have come to believe they lose their inner warmth of soul when they rise to the level of the intellectual. If we do not go back very far—if, for example, we go back to an intellectualist worldview such as that found in Schiller— indeed, even in the extraordinarily precise morphology as developed by Goethe, we can still see how such personalities strikingly arrived at an idealistic, intellectualistic elaboration of their worldview—believing that they only became truly human when they could infuse their ideas with inner warmth. As pale and cold as the world of ideas is often perceived today, it was not perceived that way even not so long ago. And this is, of course, connected to a significant law of human development. It is connected to the fact that human beings have come to have a completely different relationship to the world of ideas—as it is developed in an intellectualistic manner—than they did in the past. In earlier times, the world of ideas was rooted in the living. The universe was regarded as a living entity. One need only gain a true understanding of older conceptual frameworks to realize that the inanimate was actually conceived as something that had fallen away from the living—which was thought of as extending throughout the entire world—just as we find ash falling away from something that is burning. Human beings had a completely different perception of the universe. They viewed the universe as a great living organism, and they regarded the inanimate—for example, the entire mineral kingdom—as ashes that had fallen out of the cosmic process and had become dead because they were the waste products of the living.

[ 5 ] This perception of the world has, however, changed significantly over the past few centuries. Scientific knowledge, for example, is fully respected—or at least has always been fully respected—insofar as it can extend to what is dead. And more and more, a longing arose to view the living itself as merely a chemical compound of the dead. The idea of spontaneous generation from the dead emerged.

[ 6 ] I have mentioned this before: When people in the Middle Ages sought to create a homunculus in a retort, this idea of creating a being from ingredients was not conceived as spontaneous generation in the sense that later natural science spoke of it, but rather as conjuring a specific living being out of the indeterminate living universe. People did not yet conceive of the universe as a mechanism, as something lifeless. That is why they believed in the possibility of extracting a specific living being from the general living whole. But the medieval mind had not yet actually conceived of combining the non-living to create the living. These matters are extremely difficult to grasp today outside the realm of spiritual science, because people today are accustomed to conceiving of their concepts as if, having passed through the stages of childhood, they had now reached a point where they are absolutely correct.

[ 7 ] No matter how much we talk about today’s progress, the fact remains that human beings have never been as rigid in their conceptualizations as they are in this age. And ultimately, it is essentially a subjective element that gives human beings this rigidity, particularly in their cognition. When human beings direct their concepts and ideas toward the inanimate, the inanimate is purely passive. Human beings are in a position to shape their concepts quite comfortably, for the inanimate does not move, and they can develop their physical concepts without being disrupted—when they apply these concepts to nature—by the fact that nature itself, in its living mobility, demands that they be equally flexible in their concepts.

[ 8 ] Goethe still held the view that one must have concepts that are inwardly alive and not defined by sharp contours—concepts that, when one approaches the realm of things in order to grasp individual things through ideas, adapt to living, dynamic existence and living, dynamic essence.

[ 9 ] People today—if I may put it somewhat paradoxically—love the comfortable in their concepts. The fact is that this inclination toward rigid concepts—toward concepts that can be defined with sharp contours—is applicable only to the dead, which do not move and therefore allow the concept to remain rigid. But the fact remains that this existence within rigid concepts—which, in truth, no longer concern themselves with anything outwardly alive—has nevertheless given people the opportunity to attain an inner awareness of freedom, as I have often explained.

[ 10 ] Two things have emerged as a result of humanity having become completely dead in its concepts. On the one hand, the consciousness of freedom; on the other, the possibility of now applying the rigid concepts—which are taken from the dead and are applicable only to the dead—in that magnificent, triumphant technology that is, after all, dependent on being a realization of that rigid system of ideas.

[ 11 ] This is one aspect of the development that modern humanity has undergone. One must also understand how human beings have, so to speak, cut themselves off from the living world, how the living world has become alien to them; and one must also realize that when a person is confronted with the dead, if they do not wish to remain within the dead but rather wish to take in the impulse of the living into their soul, they must find this living impulse through their own power.

[ 12 ] If we go back to ancient times, we find that every cloud formation, the lightning that flashed from the clouds, the thunder that rolled, the plants that grew, and so on—all of these brought life to human beings; that humans, as it were, breathed in life with awareness and thus found themselves involuntarily immersed in life. They need only take in the living from the outside. In the present day, because the external world—in accordance with their stage of development, at which their concepts can grasp only the inanimate—no longer provides them with this living quality, people are compelled to draw this living quality forth from the innermost essence of their own lives, to make themselves alive. One simply cannot grasp history purely theoretically with the intellect. Then history appears too monotonous. One must immerse oneself with one’s whole soul in the way people experienced history in different historical epochs. And there one will then discover what a tremendous transformation has taken place, beginning—if I may put it this way—with all the pre-Greek ages, which we in our anthroposophy trace back to the Atlantean epoch, that is, to the 7th and 8th millennia B.C., through the Greek era and up to our own time. And today I would simply like to describe this transformation concretely in relation to human feeling toward the universe. I would like to describe how this transformation in the human soul’s feeling toward the universe presents itself to spiritual contemplation.

[ 13 ] If we go back to earlier times—external history shows only traces of this; one must delve into the matter through the methods of the humanities that we have already become familiar with in order to understand this— when we go back to the people of pre-Greek times—for example, to Egyptian culture, to Babylonian-Chaldean culture, or even to ancient Persian culture—we find everywhere that people had the sense that they had descended to Earth from a pre-birth, pre-earthly life. And what the gods had implanted in them during their pre-earthly life, they still carry within themselves as an aftereffect.

[ 14 ] Back then, human beings actually felt so at home on Earth that they said to themselves: “Here on Earth I stand. Before I stood on Earth, I was in a spiritual-soul world—figuratively speaking, in a world of light. That light still shines mysteriously within me. As a human being, I am, so to speak, the vessel of the divine light that still lives on within me. — And so human beings were aware that something divine had descended to Earth along with themselves. They did not actually say—and this can even be demonstrated philosophically—‘I stand here on Earth,’ but rather they said: ‘I, as a human being, am the vessel of the God who has placed Himself on Earth.’ — That was, in fact, his consciousness. And the further back we go in human evolution, the more we find this consciousness: “I, a human being on Earth, envelop the God who has descended.” — For the divine was manifold. And one might say: The last gods in the hierarchy of gods, who reached down to Earth, were, for the ancient consciousness, human beings themselves. And anyone who—not in an external way, not in the horrifyingly superficial way, for example, that the Germans have caricatured Eastern culture for Europe—but who, in a truly empathetic manner, becomes aware of the consciousness with which the ancient Indian spoke when he felt the Brahman within himself, which he enveloped, will also be able to empathize with what human soul life was actually like in ancient times.

[ 15 ] From this, however, developed the consciousness that existed in human beings toward the divine Father, the Father God. Human beings themselves felt themselves to be a kind of son of God. It was not what was present in flesh and blood that they perceived in this way, but rather that which enveloped the flesh and blood—which, according to the view of various people of ancient times, was indeed unworthy of enveloping God. He did not regard this human being of flesh and blood as divine, but rather that which extended from a spiritual world into this physical, earthly human being, into the human being of flesh and blood.

[ 16 ] And so, above all else, the relationship with the Father God was something that was experienced as a religious relationship. And the highest rank in the ancient mysteries was that of the Father. In most Eastern mysteries, a distinction was made between seven degrees through which the initiate had to ascend. The first degree was one in which he merely had to prepare himself, acquiring a state of mind that would enable him to understand at all what was shown to him in the mysteries. The subsequent degrees up to the fourth then led him to fully grasp what his national soul was, so that he no longer felt himself to be an individual human being, but rather a member of a human group. And as he then advanced to the higher degrees—the fifth and sixth—he felt more and more that he was the vessel of the Divine. And the highest degree was that of the Father. These were the personalities who, in their outer life and outer existence, were to be, as it were, a realization of what human beings felt as the divine primordial principle, which they related to themselves in a real sense. The outer spiritual culture was entirely attuned to this focal point of religious life: to feel, in human consciousness, a connection to the paternal principle of creation. And accordingly, people felt everything that they were also able to comprehend inwardly; they felt the light of knowledge that could dawn upon them as an overwhelming presence from God the Father. In a sense, they felt God the Father continuing to work within their own minds. All worship was organized around this, for it was, after all, merely a reflection of what could be experienced as a path of knowledge within the Mysteries.

[ 17 ] Now came the Greek era. In the Greeks we find the purest representatives of this stage of human development, which evolved from people with those earlier spiritual dispositions that I have just described. The Greeks perceived the human being as more than just a human being, no longer merely as the vessel of the divine. But this Greek sentiment is such that anyone who had undergone Greek training—whether, let us say, through Greek rational education, or through Greek art, or through Greek religious life—felt, in a sense, that the divine had been completely absorbed into the human being. The Greek no longer felt himself to be merely the vessel of the divine, but rather the embodiment of the divine. It was just that this was no longer expressed in the same unveiled manner as the former concept had been in earlier times. In Greece, it was the case that this truth was actually revealed only to the initiate at a certain stage: “You, as a human being, are a divine being, a son of the gods.” — And it was considered impossible to reveal this mystery of the Incarnation to the unprepared person. But the initiated Greek saw it this way; hence this fundamental feeling. It was not merely an idea that appeared in clear contours, but a fundamental feeling of the soul.

[ 18 ] We find this fundamental emotional sensibility in Greek art, which depicts the gods as idealized human beings. This depiction of the divine through idealized human beings stems entirely from this fundamental sentiment. Thus, one might say that the Greeks have reduced their relationship to the divine to the chastity of feeling and disposition.

[ 19 ] Now, after the Greek worldview had been completely bathed in its twilight, a completely different state of mind emerged in the 15th century. Human beings no longer feel themselves to be merely a shell for the divine on Earth, nor even a representation of the divine as the Greeks did, but rather as beings who have ascended from lower, imperfect stages to human existence and who can only look up to a divine reality beyond this world. And modern humanity has established a natural science that, while arising from this fundamental feeling, has not yet been able to find its proper relationship to itself. And it is precisely the task of anthroposophy to rediscover this relationship of the human being to itself and to the divine. We can visualize this rediscovery in the following way. Let us try to put ourselves in the mind of a pre-Greek human being. He will say: I envelop a divine essence. By enveloping this divine essence in human flesh and blood, I can only represent it on earth in a manner unworthy of what it truly is. In a sense, I can only degrade it. If I wish to represent the divine within me in its purity, I must purify myself. I must undergo a kind of catharsis, purify myself, so that the god within me may be brought to light as fully as possible.” — But fundamentally, this is a return to the paternal primordial principle, which is also evident in many religious practices of antiquity through the belief that after death, people return to their ancestors—to ancestors from a distant past. This tendency toward the paternal primordial creative principle is very much present in religious life. Human beings do not yet feel entirely at home on Earth. Nor, however, is there yet the striving—from a position of alienation from humanity, I might say—toward the divine in the beyond. Rather, it is the striving to portray humanity in its purest form, because one believes that only then will God be revealed.

[ 20 ] This is different in Greek life. In Greek life, people no longer feel as closely connected to the divine Father principle as they did in earlier times. As human beings, people feel truly connected to the divine, but at the same time also to the earthly. They feel, as it were, in a state of balance between the divine and the earthly. This is the period in which the Mystery of Golgotha takes place. This is the period when it could no longer be said merely: “In the beginning was the Logos, and the Logos was with God”—meaning the Father God—“and the Logos was God,” but when it had to be said: “And the Word became flesh.” The Logos, who was originally regarded only as the union with God the Father, came to be seen as having, so to speak, found his full home within the human being, so that the human being must seek him within himself. The Mystery of Golgotha responded to this human disposition. God the Father could never really be conceived in human form. God the Father had to be conceived as purely spiritual. Christ, the Son of God, was conceived as divine-human. And fundamentally, what the Greeks experience as a longing—or live out as an artistic realization—is fulfilled in its full humanity in the overall presentation of the Mystery of Golgotha. In doing so, we need not dwell on any trivialities; we must focus on the essential—the indwelling of the Divine within human beings themselves, just as human beings exist on Earth.

[ 21 ] Thus, the Mystery of Golgotha takes center stage in the entire development of humanity on Earth. And it must by no means be regarded as a historical coincidence that the Mystery of Golgotha entered history at the very moment when Greek civilization, so to speak, from the outside—from the Earth—sought to portray the divine in human beings. One might say—and this is more than just a poetic image—that the Greeks had to artistically portray God as a human being using earthly elements, and the cosmos sent God down to Earth and into humanity to provide, in a cosmic sense, the answer to the wondrous question that Greek civilization, so to speak, sent out into the vastness of the universe. One might say that one senses, through the historical development of humanity, how Greek culture, in its humanly depicted gods, poses the question to the cosmos: Can God become human? — And the cosmos answered: God can become human — by allowing the Mystery of Golgotha to take place.

[ 22 ] But I have often made it clear that this understanding of the Mystery of Golgotha in its primordial essence is actually only possible if one approaches this Mystery of Golgotha not with the understanding of the dead that has become common in recent times, but with a new, life-filled understanding—an understanding that can in turn be permeated by the Spirit.

[ 23 ] This leads us to the conclusion that we must now acknowledge: Although human beings have, on the one hand, their sense of freedom and, on the other, their mechanistic progress in external culture achieved through lifeless concepts, they cannot remain stuck in this inner lifelessness. From the very power of the soul, human beings must draw the impulse of something living, something living and spiritual; that is to say, they must be able to return to ideas that are inwardly alive—ideas that do not merely engage the intellect, but engage the whole human being. It must truly become possible for modern human beings—as I have indicated in my book *Goethe’s Worldview*—to return to a state where they do not speak of dead ideas or abstract ideas, but rather to rise to that spirituality in which they are filled with ideas, while bringing into this realm of ideas all the living warmth that can glow within their soul, all the brightest light that can awaken enthusiasm in his soul. Human beings must once again be able to carry all the warmth and light of their souls up to the realm of ideas. They must once again be able to bring their whole being with them into the spirituality of the world of ideas. We have, in fact, lost this in the present day.

[ 24 ] And one might say that perhaps few things in modern literature move one as deeply as the first chapter of Nietzsche’s account of philosophy in the “tragic age of the Greeks,” as he calls it. Nietzsche describes the philosophers of the presocratic period—Thales, Heraclitus, Anaxagoras—and there is something terribly moving for anyone who has a true appreciation and an open heart for such things when Nietzsche describes how, during a certain period of Greek development, the Greeks soared up to the abstraction of mere being—from the multitude of impressions of nature that fill people with warmth to the pale concept of being. Nietzsche puts it something like this at that point: Then one feels a chill run through one’s body; one feels into what icy regions one is entering when one ascends with an ancient Greek philosopher—say, Parmenides—to this abstract idea of all-encompassing being. As if transported to the glacial regions of the soul, Nietzsche feels estranged from that modern culture into which he had been fully immersed, as I described here the day before yesterday.

[ 25 ] But Nietzsche also failed in this regard, in that he could only go as far as the coldness, one might say, to the glacial nature of the human world of ideas, whereas clairvoyance in true spirituality is capable of bringing the warmth and light of the soul into the intellectual realm, so that one can attain that purity of concept of which I spoke in my *Philosophy of Freedom*, but with this purity of concepts one does not become an inwardly dried-up human being, but rather an inwardly inspired one. A human being who, by leaving behind the earthly warmth of sensuality, perceives the warm solar heat of the cosmos as he passes through the cold regions of intellectualism, a person who, by leaving behind the luminous objects of the earth and experiencing how it grows dark within through the intellectual world of concepts, becomes capable—through the living impulses of the soul that he brings into this darkness—of receiving the cosmic light, after he has, one might say, overcome earthly darkness.

[ 26 ] In Nietzsche, one sees everywhere a longing for this cosmic light, for this cosmic warmth. He cannot attain it. That is where he fails. Anthroposophy seeks to point the way to a place where one does not lose the warmth of the earth, nor the light of the earth; where one retains a fresh connection and fresh interest in every single concrete aspect of the earthly realm; where one remains devoted in love to all that is earthly and yet can ascend to that height of concepts where the divine reveals itself in pure concepts—a divine that we, as modern human beings, can no longer feel within ourselves as the ancient human beings on earth did, but to which we must first make our way.

[ 27 ] This is the mood that allows one to truly sense the mystery of the Holy Spirit. And this is the difference in spiritual life between modern people and people of earlier times. People of earlier times drew their spirituality from every individual being in nature. The cloud spoke to him of the spiritual; the flower spoke to him of the spiritual. Modern man must, through his own power, breathe life into his concepts that have grown cold and dead; only then will he attain that Holy Spirit through which he can also perceive the Mystery of Golgotha in the right way. For one takes something with one from humanity when, in this way—I may now say dryly—one permeates one’s ideas with soul warmth and soul light in an anthroposophical manner; one takes something with one from humanity. One cannot transcend the dry, banal, abstract nature of the world of ideas unless one takes this with one. If one ascends through those insights I have spoken of in the anthroposophical books to a comprehensive understanding of the world, then the ideas remain just as precise as they are in mathematics or as they are in the other sciences. One does not think any less precisely than the chemist in his laboratory or the biologist in his study; it is just that the concepts require something that comes from the human being. When the anthroposophist speaks through imagination or inspiration, and when common sense truly grasps this imagination and this inspiration, they stand before him just as mathematical or geometric structures stand before the mathematician. But the person must bring something with them; otherwise, they will not grasp these ideas correctly. What they must bring with them is love.

[ 28 ] Without infusing knowledge with love, one cannot truly assimilate the knowledge provided by anthroposophy; otherwise, it remains something that is entirely equivalent to other forms of knowledge. It makes no difference whether you say, along with some materialistic natural scientist: marsupials, great apes, ape-men, humans—or whether you say: The human being consists of a physical body, an etheric body, an astral body, and an “I.”—It is merely a different way of thinking, but the status of the soul remains the same. The status of the soul only changes when this spiritual understanding of the human being within nature becomes inwardly alive. But it is not possible unless the same feeling, the same sensation, the same state of the soul—which lives in love—accompanies this understanding. And when one thus imbues one’s understanding with the experience of love, then this understanding draws near to the Mystery of Golgotha. And then we have not only the naive inclination toward Christ—which, as I said, is entirely justified in and of itself—but we also have a realization that extends throughout the entire cosmos and can deepen into a grasp of the Mystery of Golgotha. In other words: Life in the Holy Spirit leads to life in Christ, or toward Christ, toward the Son of God.

[ 29 ] And then we come to understand how, in fact, the Logos passed from the Father to the Son through the Mystery of Golgotha. And then the crucial point is revealed to us: that it was correct for the ancients to say, “In the beginning was the Logos. And the Logos was with God, and the Logos was God,” but that in the Greek era it became necessary to add: “And the Logos became flesh.” And modern man must add: And I must find an understanding of the Logos living in the flesh by elevating my concepts and ideas—my entire worldview—into the spiritual realm, so that through the Holy Spirit I may find Christ, and through Christ alone, God the Father.

[ 30 ] This is certainly not something theoretical; it is something that can become part of modern human beings’ immediate experience, and it is the attitude toward Christianity that arises quite naturally from anthroposophy.

[ 31 ] It is indeed true that this grasping of a spiritual path is indispensable for modern human beings. They need this grasping of a spiritual path precisely in the face of the “dead culture” that consists of the mechanisms of our present-day life—mechanisms that should by no means be disparaged, but rather, viewed from another perspective, should be held in the highest regard. But it requires, I would say, an inner jolt for modern people to embark on this spiritual path. And this inner jolt—which I recently referred to here as a true awakening—is something many do not wish to experience. And this is actually what constitutes the modern opposition to anthroposophy: the refusal of the soul to undergo this jolt. There is something uncomfortable about going along with this jolt. In a sense, this jolt pulls one into the maelstrom of cosmic becoming. One would prefer to remain at peace with one’s rigid, sharply defined concepts, which apply only to the dead—that which offers no resistance when one seeks to grasp the world—while the living, when one attempts to grasp it with these dead concepts, resists, moves, and slips out of the grasp of those concepts. This is uncomfortable for modern people. They sense it. They cloak it in all sorts of other things, and they become downright frantic when they hear that, from a certain perspective, a completely different way of understanding the world is being sought in the most diverse areas of life.

[ 32 ] It is only in light of this atmosphere that one can explain the truly peculiar phenomena that are occurring, particularly among the opponents of anthroposophy. One need only mention a few recent occurrences to fully appreciate just how peculiar this is.

[ 33 ] We are faced here with the great misfortune of the loss of our Goetheanum. We know full well that, no matter what might be possible in terms of reconstruction, that old Goetheanum can never be restored to us, that it can remain only a memory, and that it is a truly immense pain to have to say to ourselves: With this Goetheanum, an attempt was made to find the artistic style that corresponds to the new spirituality, and this artistic style—which was intended to have an inspiring effect—has, in fact, vanished from the face of the earth along with the Goetheanum. One need only state this fact to feel the immense pain inherent in the destruction of the Goetheanum.

[ 34 ] It is usually the case that, in the face of misfortune, even opponents refrain from using irreverent and scornful language. Yet in the face of the misfortune of the Goetheanum fire, the opponents find it right and appropriate to express their opposition in an even more mocking and abusive manner. That is precisely what is so peculiar. And that is something that follows on from the other in a dignified, yet actually undignified, manner.

[ 35 ] The anthroposophical movement began as a purely positive force. No one was attacked, no one was criticized, and no agitation was carried out other than stating what could be investigated in the anthroposophical way. We waited patiently until those souls who are now present in the here and now would be drawn here by the impulses of their own souls to gain an understanding of what is to be conveyed from the spiritual world. The entire anthroposophical endeavor was structured accordingly: not to agitate recklessly, not to draw up programs, but simply to state what is, based on research into the spiritual world, and to wait and see in which souls the longing for knowledge of this reality is present.

[ 36 ] Today, there are many people who oppose anthroposophy without even knowing why; they simply follow along with others who lead them. But there are at least some who know very well why they oppose anthroposophy. They know it because they see that truths emerge from anthroposophical thought that demand precisely that jolt I just described. And that is what they do not want. They do not want this for a wide variety of reasons, because they have always wanted to keep such truths confined to narrow circles, so that, by possessing them, they might stand out from the rest of humanity as a kind of small, spiritual, aristocratic group. That is why they particularly hate the one who, in contrast to what is simply in the spirit of the times, brings the truth from the spiritual world to all people. But at the same time, these opponents—I mean the leading opponents—know that nothing can be done against the truth as such, that it finds its way even through the narrowest crevices in the rock, no matter what obstacles may stand in its way. Therefore, they usually do not choose to fight against these truths; for then these truths would find their own ways and means to defeat the opponent. Look at the opposition—and it would be good if, in anthroposophical circles, people were to take a close look at the opposition—and you will see that, rather than combating the truths, the main emphasis is placed on personal attacks, personal suspicions, personal insults, and personal slander. They believe they cannot harm the truth itself, but they want to eliminate it; therefore, they believe they can eliminate it through personal denigration. This is something that, in the nature of the struggle, clearly indicates just how well the leading opponents know how to proceed in order to achieve a temporary victory.

[ 37 ] But this is something that should be understood, especially among anthroposophists; for anthroposophists still believe that one can achieve something through an ordinary discussion with an opponent. After all, nothing can harm us more than succeeding in presenting our truth in discussions, for we are not hated because we speak untruths, but because we speak the truth. And the more we succeed in showing that we speak the truth, the more this will be the case.

[ 38 ] Of course, this cannot prevent one from standing up for the truth. But it can prevent one from clinging to the naïve belief that progress is made through discussion. Progress is made only through positive work. One makes progress only by upholding the truth as strongly as possible, so that as many predestined souls as possible—who are present in far greater numbers than one might think—may come to find in it the spiritual nourishment that is necessary if, for the future of humanity, we are to pursue construction rather than destruction, if upward development, rather than downward development, is to take place.

[ 39 ] There is no material way out of the chaos of the present. The only way out of the chaos of the present is through the spiritual path. But one can only embark on the spiritual path if one chooses the spirit as one’s guide. And to choose the spirit as one’s guide in the true sense—to understand how to choose it—that is what anthroposophists must recognize and comprehend in the deepest sense.