The Rudolf Steiner Archive

52. The Will to Understand Other Souls

[ 1 ] The fact that it is possible today to speak about facts and events in the spiritual world, and that there can be a certain spiritual current that makes it possible to point to what happens to people between death and rebirth, must be regarded as an important and meaningful gift bestowed upon us from the spiritual worlds. Every age—some more, some less—receives certain revelations from the spiritual world, and human beings should strive to develop a relationship with all that may come to them from the spiritual world. It is understandable, of course, that this seems impossible to many, for the human soul tends toward complacency, toward clinging to what has already been accepted. To such people, it seems sufficient to know what the Bible has to offer, what has been handed down to them through tradition. Most people still speak this way today. But Theosophy, as we practice it here, is precisely what the Deity has intended for us in our time, so that we may truly come to know our souls. The true solution to the mysteries of the soul can come to us only through knowledge of the supersensible world. That is why we must carefully examine, time and again, whatever pertains to our supersensible being.

[ 2 ] Right now, my task was to explore anew the life between death and rebirth. One must consider how much better one comes to know a physical region when visiting it for the tenth or twelfth time than when seeing it for the fourth or fifth time. In this consideration, let us set aside life in the physical world. Let us begin only from the point at which we have shed everything that still connects us to earthly existence. No soul can come to know itself in terms of morality unless it educates itself through life in the supersensible world. Just as in physical life we perceive the external world through sounds, smells, and sensations—all of which constitute our world—so, once we have transcended the kamaloka life, we live in a world of imaginations, visions, and images.

[ 3 ] We are then enveloped by such visions. Visual experiences are what we encounter first, like a powerful cloud entering the spiritual world. Yet these visions differ from those that a person can already have in physical life. Behind all the visions that surround us in the spiritual world, we must perceive [beings]. We are together with all those who were close to us, but in such a way that the clouds of images lie between their actual reality and us. We relate to our surroundings through images. What happens next for each individual depends on their moral character during their earthly life. The soul’s fundamental disposition is an important factor. To a soul of low moral character, the image of the deceased appears to be surrounded by a kind of shell that it cannot penetrate. In contrast, we are able to pass through this shell when we face the image with a selfless soul. Morality makes us sociable beings in the afterlife; selfishness turns us into hermits. But we suffer from loneliness; it is the worst form of suffering—to be cut off from the sight of visions. In earthly life, morality consists in finding the paths to other souls, in not shutting ourselves off from others with harshness and coldness.

[ 4 ] What will become increasingly important to people in the future is one soul’s understanding of another. Today, there is no lack of the will to do good deeds, but rather a lack of the will to understand other souls. If Theosophy is to have a practical, enriching effect on external social life, its teachings must give rise to the urge to empathize with every other soul. This does not mean that we must praise the other soul one-sidedly; that can also stem from pure selfishness. If we happen to enjoy being with this or that person, our interest often drives us to praise them. True morality, however, is based on the ability to approach another person’s soul with an open mind.

[ 5 ] In Devachan, we become sociable beings through a moral state of mind. Throughout the entire time it takes our soul to pass through a particular sphere of Devachan, this more or less moral state of mind plays a crucial role. The soul is not a kind of bird that soars upward in a certain direction; rather, something like an enlargement, an expansion, takes place. One grows in one’s being up to the orbit described, in the old sense, by the planet Mercury (in the new sense, by Venus). That is why, in occultism, this stage of Devachan is called the Mercury sphere. In order not to be hermits there, we must arrive with a moral state of mind.

[ 6 ] The next sphere involves what is called religiosity; this is something higher than mere morality. Religion is connected with the ability to relate oneself to the Eternal. A person of the right disposition is capable, in this second sphere—the sphere of Venus (in the ancient sense)—of joining with all the beings that exist there. In contrast, the non-religious person will be lonely there. This loneliness is the source of suffering; however, he is not tormented by it in vain, but rather it serves to improve him. People who have little sense of the connection between the earthly and the divine are the loneliest; for example, the followers of the Monist League will have no possibility at all of extending this league into the time of their Venusian state, because they will all be lonely.

[ 7 ] The reason why occultism speaks of Mercury and Venus spheres is that these spheres are so vast that the inhabitants of these spheres live together with the beings of these planets. When a person’s spiritual vision is opened to what exists in the supersensible world, they see beings who have, so to speak, died on Mars or Jupiter. These beings undergo transformations similar to those of human souls after death. We are constantly surrounded by such beings who once inhabited the other planets. We cannot consciously perceive their presence unless we have been trained to do so. But we do come into contact with the beings with whom we lived here, more or less consciously depending on the state of our souls.

[ 8 ] While one cannot say that human beings form relationships with all beings, one such relationship emerges as a significant experience—indeed, as a profoundly moving one. If we felt a certain degree of sympathy or antipathy toward a person here, we may later have come to realize that we did not love them enough, that they deserved to be loved more by us. If we now meet them again in the spirit world with this realization, we cannot fulfill the desire to love them more. Due to the nature of the spiritual world, we are compelled to remain at the level of love we already bestowed upon them while on Earth. We can correct our judgment as long as we are on Earth, but not in the spiritual world; there, the relationship remains as it was here. It is absolutely necessary for our development that we look back over a long period of time to see how we relate to other people. If, for example, one person has misjudged another, he may realize this after death, but he cannot change it; he must remain in the same relationship with that person. When one learns of such facts in all their significance through research into the spiritual world, one truly gains a sense of how much the spiritual realm influences human development. It was precisely while reexamining these conditions that the following occurred to me.

[ 9 ] (I have spent a great deal of time studying Homer in my life, and a phrase of his came to mind:) “Man enters a world in which there is no change.” And I said to myself: You’re only understanding this now. This is proof of how much is mysteriously woven into world history by people like Homer, who possessed a high degree of clairvoyance (which is why the Greeks called him “blind Homer”). One might otherwise overlook such a statement.

[ 10 ] Something else has been on my mind in recent weeks, as my research has taken me near an important place—near Florence, where the Medici tombs feature Michelangelo’s wonderfully sculptural works of art: Dawn and Dusk, Day and Night, depicted in four allegorical figures. Incidentally, what is usually described as the statue of Julius is actually Lorenzo, and vice versa; in fact, one of the statues was moved to the other side at some point, and the descriptions do not match the figures at all.

[ 11 ] At first, I resisted what seemed to impose itself on me as I contemplated the allegories. If one examines these figures from an occult perspective—beginning with the marvelous figure of Night—one might ask: If, within the fourfold human being, the astral body is outside and the etheric body is active within, how would one express this in posture and gesture?—And one must answer: Just as Michelangelo depicted Night. And on the same tomb, on the other side, the depiction of Day is correctly explained when one recalls that, during waking hours, everything that is visible in human beings is governed by the ego. Michelangelo need not have known this, but at the time when he was enduring the greatest pain of his life, this wonderfully eloquent figure took shape from his inner life: Day.

[ 12 ] At dawn, one can see that the astral body is to be depicted in its dominant form. At dusk, the physical body seems to be left to its own devices, limp and surrendered to the influence of sleep.

[ 13 ] There, arranged in a circle by an artist, are the four members of the human being. One can form a mental image of how the legend might have arisen that Michelangelo was able to breathe life into his sculpture of the day at sunrise. People will only learn to solve the mystery of these figures once they know that the human being consists of four parts. The most important thing, however, is that they recognize what already confronts us just as mysteriously in every single soul.

[ 14 ] We have thus heard how life on Earth influences the state of the soul during the two stages of Devachan mentioned above. If a person has developed no religious feeling whatsoever here, he becomes a hermit on the Venus sphere. If, however, they have followed a particular religious denomination, they are bound to the sphere where that denomination is found. As true as it is that, until now, it has been natural for people to remain within a particular religious denomination, we are now moving toward a time when this limitation must be overcome.

[ 15 ] It is difficult for anyone who has been subjected to some form of suggestion to attain the necessary impartiality. Thus, while some Westerners have indeed succeeded in impartially acknowledging Buddhism or Islam as Christians, However, it is exceedingly difficult for a Buddhist to acknowledge Christianity as well. Even if he tries, he immediately reinterprets it. He is not impartial enough and does not realize that the bias lies with him. In reality, his traditional religion does not prevent him from accepting Christian doctrine. The fact that it is not found in his sacred texts is irrelevant. Just as it is not contrary to Buddhism when its adherents, for example, accept the Copernican worldview—which is also not found in the sacred texts—so too is it not contrary to Buddhism to acknowledge Christian doctrine. All personal biases and all belief in authority should take a back seat. The Indians, however, will immediately view it as favoritism toward Christianity if spiritual research presents them with the findings regarding the Christ being just as impartially as those regarding the Buddha.

[ 16 ] Between death and rebirth, we experience a time when we feel just as connected to the sun as we do to the Earth today. Just as the sun is outwardly distant from us today, we will then experience a connection with the essence of the sun—which, in reality, is quite different from how physical astronomy describes it. Whether we will be lonely or in good company there depends on how we have been able to relate to the Christ-being while on Earth. The Sun is to our entire system what the Christ is to our Earth. If a human being does not wish to be lonely during their existence as a solar being, they can only avoid this by grasping the Christ-being with their soul. We have heard that even while in the Mercury sphere, we are surrounded by a cloud of visions. In the Venus sphere, this cloud is only inwardly defined, yet it is as if illuminated from the outside by the Sun. When one examines this illuminated cloud-like formation, one recognizes that the higher hierarchies are gaining influence over one’s being, breaking through its shells. A human being can become aware of this influence only by having brought with them something of their connection to the Christ from their earthly life. They are received into the world of spiritual beings through the power of the Christ. Here we see the full intimacy of the Christ idea. We cannot attain clarity regarding the Christ being, nor can we establish the proper relationship to Lucifer, unless we have brought with us from our earthly life this awareness of our connection to the Christ.

[ 17 ] Then we move into the sphere of Mars, where the Sun is directly below us. Just as we look up at the Sun from Earth, we now look down upon it. Within the sphere of Mars, we come to realize that the Buddha has become for Mars what Christ is for Earth. The Buddha had to accomplish a kind of liberation for the Martian beings. Such beings carry out their mission from one star to another.

[ 18 ] Through Christ, human beings have the power to develop a proper relationship with Lucifer. Yet Lucifer is their guide to understanding world events. As human beings enter the Jupiter and Saturn spheres, their consciousness becomes subdued. In the case of criminals, however, it can be dulled much earlier—even as early as the Mercury sphere. But for most people, this state sets in only later. It becomes completely dulled in everyone once they pass beyond Saturn. Then the human being begins the return journey. The ability to integrate what they have experienced into their new life—their karma—is due to the expansion of their soul to these far-reaching boundaries. Between death and rebirth, we absorb all the moral, intellectual, and spiritual forces that permeate the entire cosmos; and because we have absorbed them ourselves between death and rebirth, we carry the entire cosmos within us. And it is our task in life not to let this God—whom we brought with us from the cosmos into our soul—lie fallow. Many who have given only superficial thought to the world may nevertheless have had feelings similar to those of Kant when he speaks of the starry heavens above him and the moral law within him, and so on. When one reads this, it seems to be about two distinct things; yet they are not two things at all. We have absorbed the moral law from the cosmos in the time between death and birth. In the harmony of the spheres, it has spoken from all worlds to shape us inwardly into what we have become. The more theosophy becomes a felt, immediate life in every moment, the more it fulfills its purpose. What matters is not so much theoretical knowledge as the fact that something new begins to speak within us. Only those who do not say to themselves, “In every soul, the whole world comes to meet me,” are merely playing with such truth. This feeling regulates our relationship with other people in a new way and makes it possible to position ourselves correctly within life.