The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Third Lecture

[ 1 ] We have seen how the consideration of karma, in which human destiny is encompassed, leads from the most distant realms of the universe—from the starry worlds—right down to the most intimate experiences of the human heart, insofar as this heart is indeed an expression of everything that a person feels working upon them in life, of everything that happens to them in the context of earthly existence. Whenever we seek to form a judgment based on a deeper understanding of karmic connections, we are repeatedly called upon to look toward these two realms of worldly existence, which lie so far apart from one another. One must actually say: Whatever else one may observe—be it nature, the more natural course of human development throughout history, or the life of nations—none of it leads as high into cosmic realms as the contemplation of karma. This contemplation of karma draws our attention to the connections between human life lived here on Earth and what takes place in the vastness of the cosmos. We see that human life on Earth, when it reaches its limits in certain contexts, unfolds until about the age of seventy. What lies beyond that is actually a life graciously bestowed. What lies below that is subject to karmic influences; we will have to consider those later.

[ 2 ] But one can—as we have already touched upon this many times from various perspectives in the most diverse reflections—estimate a human life on Earth to be about seventy-two years. Seventy-two years is, when viewed against the backdrop of the mysteries of the cosmos, a remarkable number, the significance of which one really only begins to grasp when one considers, I would say, the cosmic mystery of human life on Earth. We have, after all, described what the world of the stars actually is from a spiritual point of view. When we enter a new earthly life, so to speak, we return to this earthly life from the world of the stars. And then one notices how old views—even if one does not traditionally draw upon them at all—simply emerge again as soon as one approaches the relevant field with the help of modern spiritual research. We have seen, after all, how the various planetary bodies and the fixed stars participate in human life—in what permeates and runs through human life here on Earth. Ultimately, when we consider a fully lived earthly life—one that does not remain too entrenched in the lower realms, but rather spans at least half of the earthly cycle—we can say: as a human being descends from spiritual-cosmic expanses into an earthly existence, they always come from a specific star. One can trace this connection, and it is not unfounded—on the contrary, it is quite precise—when we speak of a human being having “his or her star.” A specific star, a fixed star, is the human being’s spiritual home.

[ 3 ] If one translates that which is experienced outside of space and time—between death and a new birth—into spatial imagery, then one must come to say to oneself: Every human being has a star that determines what they achieve between death and a new birth, and they come from the direction of a specific star. — So that we can already take this idea into our hearts: When we look at the entire human race inhabiting the Earth, we find—as we survey the Earth and travel across the continents—that these continents are populated by the people who are currently incarnated. The other human beings—where do we find them in the universe? Where must we look in the universe if we wish to turn our soul’s gaze toward them, after they have spent a certain time there following their passage through the gate of death? We are looking in the right directions when we gaze up at the starry sky. These are the souls—at least these are the directions that allow us to find the souls—who are between death and a new birth. We survey the entire human race that populates the Earth when we look up and down.

[ 4 ] In the planetary region, we find only those who are on their way there or on their way back. But we cannot speak of the midnight hour of existence—the time between death and a new birth—without thinking of a star that, in a certain sense—but taking into account what I have said about star beings—human beings inhabit between death and a new birth. When we approach the cosmos with such knowledge, my dear friends—out there are the stars, signs of the worlds, from which the soul life of those who are between death and a new birth shimmers and shines toward us—then we become aware that we can also look at the constellations of the stars in this light, asking ourselves: How is everything we see in the vastness of the worlds connected to human life? — We then learn to look up differently, with a sense of warmth, at the silvery moon, at the dazzling sun, at the stars that twinkle at night; for we feel humanly united with all of this. And this is something that anthroposophy aims to achieve for human souls: that these human souls feel united with the entire cosmos on a human level as well. But only then do certain mysteries of the world’s existence begin to unfold for us.

[ 5 ] My dear friends, the sun rises and sets, and the stars rise and set. We can observe how the sun, for example, sets in the region where certain groups of stars are located. We can observe that apparent—as we say today—path that the stars take as they circle the Earth; we can observe the path of the sun. Today we say that over the course of twenty-four hours, the sun circles the Earth—all of this, of course, only seemingly—and that the stars circle the Earth. That is what we say, but it is not entirely accurate. If we observe the movement of the stars and the sun’s path again and again with close attention, we discover that, relative to the stars, the sun does not always rise at the same time, but always a little later; every day it arrives a little later at the point where it had been relative to the stars the previous day. And then these time intervals—by which the sun always lags behind the stars’ motion—add up, becoming one hour, then two hours, then three hours, and finally a full day. And the moment approaches when we can say: the sun has fallen behind the stars by one day.

[ 6 ] And now let’s suppose that someone was born on March 1 of some year for my sake and lived until the end of their seventy-second year. He always celebrates his birthday on March 1, because the sun says that March 1 is his birthday. He can celebrate it that way because the sun shines throughout those seventy-two years; even as it moves forward relative to the stars, it remains in the vicinity of the star that was shining when that person arrived on Earth.

[ 7 ] But when a person has lived seventy-two years, a full day has passed, and he reaches a point in his life where the sun has left the star it had just entered when he began his life. And on his birthday, he moves past March 1: the star no longer says the same thing as the sun. The stars say it is March 2, the sun says it is March 1: the person has lost a world-day, for it has been exactly seventy-two years since the sun began to lag one day behind the star.

[ 8 ] And during this time, while the sun can remain within the sphere of its star, human beings can live on Earth. Then, under normal circumstances, when the sun no longer reassures its star about its earthly existence—when the sun no longer says to its star: ‘He is down below, and I give you what this human has to give you—as far as I’m concerned—while I, for the time being, shielding you, do with him what you would otherwise do with him between death and a new birth’—when the Sun can no longer say this to the star, the star claims the human back.

[ 9 ] And there you have the events in the heavens as directly connected to human existence on Earth: We see the span of human life clearly expressed in the mysteries of the heavens. A human being can live seventy-two years because the sun lags behind by one day during this period. Consequently, it can no longer calm a star that it had previously pacified by positioning itself in front of it, so that the star is once again free for the spiritual and soul work of human beings in the cosmos.

[ 10 ] These things cannot truly be understood in any other way than with reverence—with that reverence which the ancient mysteries called “reverence for the Higher.” For this reverence for the Higher guides us again and again to see what happens here on Earth in connection with what unfolds in the mighty, majestic script of the stars. And it is, in fact, a rather limited life that people lead today, for example, compared to the life that was led at the beginning of the third post-Atlantean epoch, when people were judged not merely by what their footsteps recorded on Earth, but by what the stars of the universe say about human life.

[ 11 ] You see, once one is attentive to such connections and is able to take them in with reverence in one’s soul, then one will also be able to say to oneself: Whatever happens here on Earth has its counterpart, its reflection, in the spiritual worlds. And the star script reveals the connection between what is happening here and what—speaking from an earthly perspective—took place in the spiritual world quite some time ago. And in fact, any karmic consideration must be undertaken with such shy reverence for the mysteries of the worlds.

[ 12 ] Now, with such reverent awe, let us turn to some karmic reflections that are to be explored here in the near future. Let us first consider this: Here sits a group of people, a cross-section of what is called the Anthroposophical Society. After all, whether one is united with this Anthroposophical Society by stronger ties or another by weaker ones, it is part of a person’s destiny—for some, a fundamental and intense destiny—to have found their way into the Anthroposophical Society. And it is precisely part of that spiritualization which the Anthroposophical Society is to attain—since the Christmas Conference—to become ever more and more conscious of what, in a spiritual-cosmic sense, underlies a community such as the Anthroposophical Society. Then, out of this consciousness, the individual can stand at the very heart of this Society.

[ 13 ] Therefore, it may well be understandable that, in light of the responsibilities arising from the Christmas Conference, we are now also beginning to speak about the karma of the Anthroposophical Society—this rather complicated karma; for it is, after all, a collective karma that arises from the karmic interplay of many individual human beings. And if you take everything that has been said in the course of these lectures on karma—and what has also emerged from other contexts considered here—in its true and deepest sense, then you will come to realize, my dear friends, that what is taking place here—as a number of people are led into the Anthroposophical Society through their karma— its “prelude,” as I will call it, has its origins in an event that took place with these people before they entered earthly existence—an event that is, in turn, the aftereffect of events that occurred in previous earthly lives.

[ 14 ] If you now simply let your thoughts wander for a moment over everything that such an idea inspires, you will say: This thought can gradually be deepened to the point where the history behind the Anthroposophical Society appears in a spiritual light. However, this cannot happen overnight; rather, it can only come into consciousness slowly and gradually, so that it may come to be realized in such a way that the work of the Anthroposophical Society is also built upon the foundations that certainly exist for anthroposophists.

[ 15 ] And now, you see, first of all it is anthroposophy that holds the society together—anthroposophy as such. And anthroposophy must, after all, be sought in some way by those who find their way into the Society. This has its antecedents in what has been experienced—let us for now trace it only that far—before the souls who are about to become anthroposophists descend into earthly existence.

[ 16 ] But when one looks at the world with a certain insight into what has actually taken place there, the following must be said today: There are many people in the world today who can be found here and there, and of whom—when one considers their connection to their pre-earthly existence—one must actually say: they were destined for the Anthroposophical Society through this pre-earthly existence, yet certain events prevent them from finding their way into it. — There are far more such people than one might think. But this raises the question all the more earnestly: What is the predestination that leads a soul to anthroposophy?

[ 17 ] You see, I would like to begin by considering extreme cases, which can illustrate how karma comes into play precisely in such a situation. In the Anthroposophical Society, the question of karma truly arises—one might say—in a more intense way for the individual than in any other field. I just want to point out the following: Suppose for a moment that the souls currently incarnated in human bodies, for the most part, are not so far along— in fact, one might even say not at all far enough back—to have experienced anything in past earthly lives that could—to take a radical example—lead them, within the anthroposophical movement, to eurythmy; for eurythmy did not exist in the times when the souls who seek eurythmy today were incarnated.

[ 18 ] This raises the burning question: How does a soul come to embark on the path toward eurythmy based on karmic foundations? But this is true of all individual areas of life as a whole: Today there are souls who, according to what anthroposophy teaches, are seeking this path. How do they come to unfold—precisely in the direction of anthroposophy—the very conditions that were the prerequisites of their karma in previous earthly lives?

[ 19 ] First of all, there are those souls who are drawn to anthroposophy with a certain strong inner intensity. This intensity is not the same in everyone, but there are souls who are drawn to anthroposophy with such strong inner intensity that it seems as if they are heading straight toward anthroposophy, without any detours, and are flowing into some area of anthroposophical life.

[ 20 ] There are a number of souls who come to experience such a cosmic guidance within their souls because, during the past centuries in which they lived their previous earthly lives, they felt with particular intensity that Christianity had reached a certain turning point. They lived in an age when Christianity had primarily led to a transition to a more or less instinctive human sensibility, when Christianity was practiced as a matter of course—but with an instinctive self-evidence—and when souls did not actually ask the question: Why am I a Christian? — And when we look back at the 13th, 12th, 11th, 10th, 9th, and 8th centuries of post-Christian development, in particular to those souls who were imbued with Christianity, who grew up into the age of consciousness, but who had already fully absorbed Christianity into the pure emotional soul even before the age of consciousness, and in whom, even with regard to more worldly matters, that which the conscious soul is meant to bring was already shining through.

[ 21 ] What was, I would say, lived unconsciously—so that, in a sense, it entered into the organism’s functions at that time by bypassing the mind—what was lived in many respects as a devout Christianity, but a Christianity that never achieved clarity about itself—this placed a demand on these people—for what is unconscious in one earthly life becomes one degree more conscious in the next—to raise the question: Why are we Christians?

[ 22 ] But this led to the fact—I am merely hinting at these things by way of introduction today; they will be elaborated on later—that such souls now also had a connection in the spiritual world during the life between death and a new birth, particularly in the first half of the 19th century, And there were communities of souls in the spiritual world during the first half of the 19th century who drew the conclusions from the Christianity they had experienced here on earth, within the radiance and the all-encompassing splendor, within the comprehensive revelation of the spiritual world. Particularly in the first half of the 19th century, there were souls in the life between death and a new birth who were driven to translate into cosmic imaginings what they had felt in a previous Christian life. And precisely what I once described here as a cult took place there in the supersensible realm. And a great number of souls were gathered in these collectively woven cosmic imaginings, in these powerful images of a future existence that was then to be sought in a transformed form during their next earthly life.

[ 23 ] But woven into all of that were the intense inner struggles—which were far more severe than one usually imagines—that took place between the 7th and the 13th or 14th centuries A.D. The souls of the people I am referring to went through a great deal during precisely this period. And everything they went through, they wove into those powerful cosmic imaginations that were collectively woven by a large number of souls in the first half of the 19th century.

[ 24 ] All of these cosmic imaginings that have been woven there are, on the one hand, permeated by something I can describe only as a kind of yearning, expectant feeling. All this elaboration of powerful cosmic imaginings is experienced by these souls in such a way that they have a condensed feeling—condensed, yet drawn from manifold details—in their souls, in their disembodied souls; it is a feeling I can describe roughly as follows: Down below, in our last earthly life, we experienced a drawing toward Christ. We deeply sensed the mysteries that tradition had preserved for Christians—the sacred and solemn events that took place in Palestine at the beginning of the Christian era. But did He—this Christ—stand before our souls in all His glory, in all His splendor? This question arose in our minds. They said: Did we not hear only after our death how Christ descended to Earth from cosmic heights as a solar being? Did we experience Him as a solar being? He is no longer here: He is united with the Earth; here there is only something like a cosmic memory of Him. We must find our way back to the Earth in order to have Christ before our souls. A longing for Christ accompanied these souls—arising from the weaving of great, majestic, cosmic imaginations woven together with the spirits of the higher hierarchies; this longing accompanied these souls from their pre-earthly existence into their earthly life.

[ 25 ] This is something that can be experienced with captivating intensity by the spiritual gaze that observed the events unfolding among embodied and disembodied humanity throughout the 19th and 20th centuries. And the most diverse elements were interwoven into these impressions. For it is precisely because the souls who are now reappearing have, in their perception of Christ, participated in all that took place between those who strove toward Christianity and those who were still steeped in the beliefs of ancient paganism—as was indeed mostly the case during the centuries to which I have alluded—precisely because of this, these souls truly possess much of what creates within the soul the possibility of succumbing, on the one hand, to the temptations of Lucifer, and on the other, to the temptations of Ahriman. And in karma, Ahriman and Lucifer weave just as the good gods do. We have already seen this.

[ 26 ] Now, everything that is interwoven with what is unfolding today in its karmic effects must be traced in detail in order to truly understand the spiritual foundations of the anthroposophical endeavor. And if the Christmas Conference is taken seriously, this is also certainly the moment when the veil may be lifted, so to speak, from certain things. But these matters must be approached with the necessary seriousness.

[ 27 ] As I said, let’s start with a radical case. Let’s keep what has just been said in the background as we discuss the following.

[ 28 ] We see how, through their upbringing and through what they experience on Earth, human souls—coming from their pre-earthly existence into their earthly existence—seek their way into the Anthroposophical Society and remain there for a time. Among them, there may be cases where, just after such a soul has shown itself for a time to be an enthusiastic—and in many cases even overzealous—member of the Anthroposophical Society, it later becomes its most vehement opponent. Let us examine the karma involved in such an extreme case.

[ 29 ] Let’s consider this extreme case: Someone joins the Anthroposophical Society and proves to be an enthusiastic member; after some time, he manages not only to become an opponent, but perhaps even a vitriolic one—which is, in essence, a very, very strange karma.

[ 30 ] Let us consider a single case. There is a soul. We look back on a previous earthly existence. In doing so, we look back to a time when ancient memories from the pagan era—which held a captivating allure for people—still existed, and when people found their way into what, at that time, I would say, spread with warmth as Christianity, though it was also received by many people with a certain superficiality.

[ 31 ] When discussing such matters, one must always be aware that, so to speak, one has to start somewhere with an earthly life. Every earthly life, in turn, leads back to earlier ones, so that there are naturally unresolved remnants that can be pointed to as mere facts. They are, after all, the karmic consequences of earlier lives; but one must start somewhere.

[ 32 ] Now one can observe such a soul as it is found precisely during that period—and indeed found in a way that has deeply moved me and others here in the Society—found during that period to which I have alluded, as a sort of failed alchemist, in possession of manuscripts, manuscripts that she could barely understand, which she interpreted in her own way, and then she experimented according to the instructions without really having a clue what she was doing. For gaining insight into spiritual-chemical relationships is, after all, no simple matter. And so we see such an experimenter with a small library of the most varied instructions, which extend far into Arab-Moorish contexts, and we see how, in an almost secluded place—yet one frequented by many curious onlookers—this person carries out her work. Under the influence of this misunderstood and thoughtlessly practiced activity, he ends up developing a peculiar ailment—one that specifically affects his larynx—it is a male incarnation—so that his voice gradually becomes hoarse and increasingly so, until finally it is barely there at all.

[ 33 ] Christian teachings are now widespread; indeed, they are taking hold of people everywhere. On the one hand, there is this man’s greed to make his fortune—and, along with that, many other things he could have achieved had he succeeded at that time; on the other hand, there is Christianity pressing upon him in a way that is, in fact, full of reproaches. Something of a—I would say—not entirely purified Faustian mood begins to develop. The feeling grows stronger: “Have you not, after all, done something terribly wrong?” And yet, little by little, under the influence of such thoughts, a skeptical view takes shape within his soul: “That you have lost your voice is the divine punishment, the just punishment for having engaged in wrongdoing.”

[ 34 ] In this state of mind, the person in question sought the counsel of people who are now also associated with the Anthroposophical Society; at that time, they were able to intervene in his fate in such a way that, in a sense, they rescued his soul from these deep doubts. One can indeed speak of a kind of salvation of the soul. But all this took place amid such accompanying events that the individual in question experienced it with a strong feeling that remained purely external. On the one hand, he was overwhelmed by a kind of gratitude toward those who had saved him spiritually; on the other hand, a terrible Ahrimanic impulse mingled into this very confusion through what had occurred here: following a strong inclination toward the “magic of injustice,” a not entirely genuine sense of identification with Christian justice; an Ahrimanic trait mingled into all of this. Because it spread confusion throughout the soul, the person in question came to introduce an Ahrimanic trait into his gratitude, and the gratitude was transformed into something that found an unworthy expression in the soul and reappeared before the person concerned when, in the life between death and a new birth, he had arrived specifically at the point I have designated as the first half of the 19th century. Thus he relived there what the soul had developed at that time in the form of outward, externalized—I might say, groveling—gratitude, reliving it in all its inhumanity.

[ 35 ] And so we see precisely this image of Ahrimanized gratitude interwoven into the cosmic imaginations of which I have spoken. And we see how this soul descends from pre-earthly existence into earthly existence, on the one hand with all those impulses that have come to it from its time of the old desire to make gold—the materialization of spiritual striving— while on the other hand, under Ahrimanic influence, something develops that can be clearly perceived as a sense of shame over the gratitude that has been unlawfully externalized. These two currents live within the soul as it descends, and these two currents express themselves in such a way that the individual in question, having once again become a personality in earthly life, seeks out those who were present where this soul itself was in the first half of the 19th century.

[ 36 ] Now, at first, something like a memory of what has been experienced arises in the form of the illegitimate, externalized gratitude—all of this unfolds, I would say, almost automatically—and then what lives within, which I have described as a sense of shame over one’s own unworthiness as a human being, awakens. This seizes hold of the soul. But since this soul is Ahrimanized—naturally, as a result of karma from earlier times as well—it pours out something like a terrible hatred toward everything one initially turned toward.’ And the redirected sense of shame is transformed into a furious opposition, combined at the same time with the immense disappointment that the unconscious has found so little satisfaction. It would have found this satisfaction if something similar to the illegitimate art of making gold had occurred.

[ 37 ] You see, my dear friends, here we have an example of how, in a radical case, things take an inner turn; of how we must explore the strange, mysterious paths of something like the connection between a sense of shame and hatred in a previous life if we wish to understand a present life based on its preconditions.

[ 38 ] You see, when one looks at such things in this way, a certain understanding does indeed shed light on everything that happens in the world through human beings; and then the great difficulties of life begin when one takes the concept of karma seriously. But these difficulties are meant to arise, for they are rooted in the very nature of human life. And a movement such as the anthroposophical one must necessarily be exposed to many challenges, because only through them can it develop the strong force that is essential to it.

[ 39 ] I cited this example first so that you might see that, so to speak, the negative aspect must also be sought within the karmic context of the entire destiny that has given rise to the anthroposophical movement—a destiny stemming from the previous incarnations of those united in its community—and of what is happening now.

[ 40 ] So, my dear friends, we can hope that a completely new understanding of the nature of the Anthroposophical Society will gradually emerge, that, so to speak, the soul of the Anthroposophical Society—with all its various difficulties—can be explored. For here, too, we must not limit ourselves to the individual human life, but go back to that which—one cannot say it “reincarnates,” but rather “is experienced anew.” And that is where I wanted to begin today.