The Path of Discipleship

   

The Way of Initiation

Chapter 3

This book is an early version of the first half of Rudolf Steiner's book entitled Knowledge of the Higher Worlds and Its Attainment. The book Initiation and Its Results corresponds to the second half of Knowledge of the Higher Worlds and Its Attainment.

At the very beginning of course the student is directed to the Path of Reverence, and the development of the inner life. But the occult teaching also gives practical instructions by the observance of which he may learn to tread that Path and develop that inner life. These practical directions have no arbitrary basis. They rest on ancient experience and ancient wisdom, and wheresoever the ways to higher knowledge are marked out, they remain of the same nature. All genuine teachers of Occultism are in agreement as to the essential character of these rules, although they do not always express them in the same words. This difference, which is of a minor character and is more apparent than real, is due to circumstances which need not be touched on here.

No teacher wishes by means of such rules to establish an ascendancy over other persons. He would not tamper with individual independence. Indeed, no one respects and cherishes human individuality more than the teachers of Occultism. It was said (in the first part of this book) that the order which embraces all Initiates was surrounded by a wall, and that two laws formed the principles by which it was upheld. Whenever the Initiate leaves this enclosure and steps forth into the world, he must submit to a third inviolable law. It is this: Keep watch over each of your actions and each of your words, in order that you may not hinder the free-will of any human being.

Those who recognise that genuine occult teachers are thoroughly permeated with this principle will understand that they need sacrifice none of their independence by the practical directions which they are advised to follow.

One of the first of these rules may be thus expressed in our language: “Provide for yourself moments of inward calm, and in these moments learn to distinguish between the real and the unreal.” I say advisedly “expressed in our language,” because originally all rules and teachings of occult science were expressed in a symbolical sign-language. Those who desire to master its whole scope and meaning must first obtain permission to learn this symbolical language, and before this permission can be obtained, it is necessary to have taken the first steps in occult knowledge. This may be achieved by the careful observance of such rules as are here given. The Path stands open to all who earnestly will to enter it.

Simple, in truth, is the rule concerning moments of inner calm, and easy it is to follow; but it only leads to the goal when the pursuit is as earnest and strict as the way is simple. I will, therefore, state without further preamble the method in which this rule should be observed.

The student must mark off a small part of his daily life in which to occupy himself with something quite different from the avocations of his ordinary life, and the way in which he occupies himself at such a time must also differ from the way in which he performs the rest of his duties. But this does not mean that what he does in the time thus set apart has no connection with his daily work. On the contrary, the man who seeks such moments in the right way will soon find that it is just this which gives him the full power to do his daily task. Nor must it be supposed that the observance of this rule really deprives anyone of time needed for the performance of his duties. If any person really has no more time at his disposal, five minutes a day will suffice. The real point is the manner in which these five minutes are spent.

At these periods a man should raise himself completely above his work-a-day life. His thoughts and feelings must take on a different colouring. His joys and sorrows, his cares, experiences, and actions, must pass in review before his soul. And he must cultivate a frame of mind which enables him to regard all his other experiences from a higher point of view. We need only bear in rind how different is the point of view from which in ordinary life we regard the experiences and actions of another, and that from which we judge our own. This is inevitable, for we are interwoven with our own actions and experiences, while we only contemplate those of another. Our aim in these moments of retirement must be to contemplate and judge our own experiences and actions as though it were not ourselves but some other person to whom they applied. Suppose, for example, that a certain misfortune has befallen someone. What a different attitude that person takes towards it as compared with an identical misfortune that has befallen his neighbour! No one can blame this attitude as unjustifiable; it is a part of human nature. And just as it is in exceptional circumstances, so it is also in the daily affairs of life. The student must endeavour to attain the power of regarding himself at certain tines as he would regard a stranger. He must contemplate himself with the inward calm of the critic. When this is attained, our own experiences present themselves in a new light. As long as we are interwoven with them and are, as it were, inside them, we are as closely connected with the unreal as with the real. When we attain to a calm survey, the real is separated from the unreal. Sorrow and joy, every thought, every resolve, appear changed when we contemplate ourselves in this way. It is as though we had spent the whole day in a place where we saw the smallest objects at the same range of vision as the largest ones, and in the evening climbed a neighbouring hill and surveyed the whole scene at once. Then the parts of the place take on proportions different from those they bore when seen from within. The value of such calm inward contemplation depends less on the actual thing we contemplate than on the power which such inward calm develops in us.

For in every human being there is, besides what we call the work-a-day man, a higher being. This higher being remains concealed until it is awakened. And each of us can only awaken it for himself. But as long as this higher being is not awakened, the higher faculties which lie dormant in every man and lead to supersensual knowledge, must remain hidden. This power which leads to inward calm is a magic force that sets free certain higher faculties.

Until a seeker feels this magic force within him, he must continue to follow strictly and earnestly the rule here given. To every man who thus perseveres, the day will come when a spiritual light is revealed to him, and a whole new world, whose existence was hitherto unsuspected, is discerned by an eye within him.

Because he begins to follow this rule, there is no need for any outward change in the life of the student. He performs his duties as before, and at first he endures the same sorrows and experiences the same joys as of old. In no way does it estrange him from life, rather is he enabled to devote himself to it the more completely, because in the moments set apart he has a Higher Life of his own. Gradually this Higher Life will make its influence felt on the ordinary life. The calm of the moments set apart will influence the ordinary existence as well. The whole man will grow calmer, will attain serenity in all his actions, and will cease to be perturbed by all manner of incidents. Gradually will a student who thus advances guide himself more and more, and be less directed by circumstances and external influences. Such a man will soon discover how great a source of strength lies for him in these periods of contemplation. He will cease to be worried by things that formerly worried him; and countless matters that used to inspire him with fear will cease to alarm him. He acquires a new outlook on life. Formerly he may have taken up this or that task with a sense of timidity. He would say: “I lack the power to do this as well as I could wish.” Now he no longer admits such a thought but, instead of it, one quite different. He now says to himself: “I will summon up all my strength so as to do my work as well as I possibly can.” And he suppresses the thought which encourages timidity; for he knows that this very timidity might spoil his undertaking, and that at any rate it can contribute nothing to the improvement of his labour. And thus one thought after another, each fraught with advantage to his whole life, begins to penetrate the student's outlook. They take the place of those that had a hampering and weakening effect. He begins to steer his own ship with a firm, secure course among the waves of life, which formerly tossed it helplessly to and fro.

And this calm and serenity react, on the whole being. They assist the growth of the inner man, and of those inner faculties which lead to the higher knowledge. For it is by his progress in this direction that the student gradually attains to a state in which he himself determines the manner in which the impressions of the external world shall affect him, Thus, he may hear a word, spoken with the object of wounding or vexing him. Before he began his occult studies it would indeed have wounded or vexed him. But now that he treads the Path of Discipleship, he is able to take from it the sting which gives it the power to hurt, before ever it enters his consciousness. Take another example: we naturally grow impatient when we are kept waiting, but the student is so permeated in his moments of calm with the realisation of the uselessness of impatience, that this feeling is present with him on every such occasion. The impatience which would naturally overcome him vanishes, and an interval which would otherwise have been wasted in the expression of impatience, may be utilised by making some, profitable observation during the period of waiting.

Now we must realise the significance of these facts. We must remember that the “Higher Being” in a man is in constant development, and only the state of calm and serenity here described renders an orderly development possible. The waves of outward life press in upon the inner man from all sides, if, instead of controlling this outward life, he is controlled by it. Such a man is like a plant which tries to expand in a cleft in the rock, and is stunted in its growth until new space is given it. No outward forces can supply space for the inner man; it can only be supplied by the inner calm which he may give to his soul. Outward circumstances can only alter the course of his outward life; they can never awaken the spiritual, inner man. The student must himself give birth to the new and higher man within him.

The higher man becomes the “inner Ruler,” who directs the circumstances of the outer man with sure guidance. As long as the latter has the upper hand, this inner man is enslaved, and therefore cannot develop his powers. If another than myself has the power to make me angry, I am not master of myself, or, to put it better, I have not yet found “the Ruler within me.” I must develop the power within of letting the impressions of the outer world approach me only in the way in which I myself choose; then only do I really become an occult student. And only by earnestly striving after this power can a student reach the goal. It is not of so much importance to achieve a great deal in a given time, as to be earnest in the search. Many have striven for years without noticing any marked advance; but many of those who did not despair, and struggled on undaunted, have sometimes quite suddenly achieved the “inner victory.”

In many situations it requires a good deal of effort to achieve these moments of inward calm. But the greater the effort needed, the more important is the achievement. In esoteric studies, everything depends on the energy, inward truthfulness, and uncompromising sincerity with which we contemplate ourselves and our actions from the standpoint of complete strangers.

But only one side of the student's inner activity is characterised by this birth of his own higher being. Something else is needed in addition. Even if a man regards himself as a stranger, it is only himself that he contemplates; he looks at those experiences and actions with which he is connected through his particular mode of life, and it is necessary for him to rise above this, and attain to a purely human point of view, no longer connected with his own individual circumstances. He must pass on to the contemplation of those things which concern him as a human being, even though he himself dwell in a different condition and different circumstances. In this way something is brought to birth within him which rises beyond the personal point of view. Thus his gaze is directed to higher worlds than those he knows in every-day life. And then he begins to feel and realise that he belongs to these higher worlds about which his senses and his daily occupations can tell him nothing. In this way he shifts the central point of his being to the inner part of his nature. He listens to the voices within him which speak to him in his moments of calm; and inwardly he cultivates an intercourse with the spiritual world. He is removed from the every-day world, and no longer hears its voices. All around him there is silence. He puts away from him all his external surroundings, and everything which even reminds him of such external impressions. His entire soul is filled with calm inward contemplation and converse with the purely spiritual world. This calm contemplation must become a necessity to the student. He is plunged completely in a world of thoughts. He must develop an earnest desire for such calm thinking. He must learn to love the in-pouring of the spirit. He will soon cease to regard this thought-world as more unreal than the everyday things which surround him. He begins to deal with his thoughts as with things existing in space. He discovers that this thought-world is an expression of life. He realises that thoughts are not mere phantoms, but that through them beings speak to him who were hidden before. He begins to hear voices speak to him through the silence. Formerly his ear was the only organ of hearing; now he can listen with his soul. An inner language and an inner voice are revealed to him. It is a moment of the supremest ecstasy to the student when this experience first comes to him. An inner light floods the whole external world for him, and he is “born anew.” Through his being passes a current from a divine world, bringing with it divine bliss.

This thought-life of the soul, which is gradually widened into a life of spiritual being, is designated by the Gnosis and by Theosophy as meditation (contemplative thought). This meditation is the means by which super-sensual knowledge is attained. But during such moments the student must not be content to give himself up to the luxury of sensation. He must not permit undefined feelings to take possession of his soul. That would only hinder him from attaining true spiritual knowledge. His thoughts must be clearly and sharply defined, and he will be helped in this by not allowing himself to be carried away blindly by the thoughts that spring up within him. Rather must he permeate his mind with the lofty thoughts which originated with advanced students to whom inspiration has already come. Let him first of all study those writings which themselves originated in such moments of meditation. The student will find such in the mystical, gnostic, and theosophical literature of our time, and will there gain the material for his meditation. Wise men have themselves inscribed in these books the thoughts of divine science, or have proclaimed them to the world through their agents.

Such meditation produces a complete transformation in the student. He begins to form entirely new conceptions of Reality. All things acquire fresh values in his eyes. And it cannot be declared too often that this transformation does not estrange him from actuality, or remove him from his daily round of duties. For then he knows that his labour and his suffering are given and endured for the sake of a great spiritual cosmic whole. Thus, instead of weariness, his meditation gives him strength to live.

With firm step the student passes through life. No matter what it may bring him, he goes forward erect. In the past he knew not why he worked and suffered, but now he knows. It is obvious that such meditation is more likely to lead to the goal, if conducted under the direction of experienced persons, who know actually how everything may best be done. We should, therefore, seek the advice and direction of such experienced guides (Gurus they are called in certain schools of thought). What would else be mere uncertain groping is transformed by such direction into work that is sure of its goal. Those who apply to the teachers possessed of such knowledge and experience will never apply in vain. Only they must be quite clear that it is the advice of a friend they desire, not the domination of a would-be ruler. Those who really know are always the most modest of men, and nothing is further from their nature than what is called the passion for power.

Those who, by means of meditation, rise to that which unites man with spirit, are bringing to life within them the eternal element which is limited by neither birth nor death.. Only those who have had no experience of it themselves can doubt the existence of this eternal element. Thus meditation becomes the way by which man also attains to the recognition and contemplation of his eternal, indestructible, essential being. And only through meditation can one attain to such a view of life. Gnosis and Theosophy tell of the eternal nature of this essential being, and of its reincarnation. The question is often asked: “Why does a man know nothing of those experiences which lie beyond the borders of birth and death?” Not thus should we ask, but rather: “How may we attain to such knowledge?” The entrance to the Path is opened by right meditation.. This alone can revive the memory of events that lie beyond the borders of birth and death. Everyone can attain to this knowledge; in each of us is the faculty of recognising and contemplating for ourselves the truths of Mysticism, Theosophy, and Gnosis; but the right means must be chosen. Only a being with ears and eyes can perceive tones and colours, nor can the eye perceive, if the light by which things are visible be wanting. Occult science gives the means of developing the spiritual ears and eyes, and kindling the spiritual light. There are, according to esoteric teachers, three steps by which the goal may be attained: 1, Probation. This develops the spiritual senses. 2. Enlightenment. This kindles the spiritual light. 3. Initiation. This establishes intercourse with the higher spiritual beings.

Source: The Rudolf Steiner Archive

How to Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds

  

The Way of Initiation

Chapter 2

This book is an early version of the first half of Rudolf Steiner's book entitled Knowledge of the Higher Worlds and Its Attainment. The book Initiation and Its Results corresponds to the second half of Knowledge of the Higher Worlds and Its Attainment.

In every man there are latent faculties by means of which he can acquire for himself knowledge of the higher worlds. The mystic, theosophist, or gnostic speaks of a soul-world and a spirit-world, which are, for him, just as real as the world which we see with our physical eyes, or touch with our physical hands. At every moment his listener may say to himself: What he speaks about I too can learn, when I have developed within myself certain powers which today lie slumbering within me. There remains only the question as to how one has to commence in order to develop within oneself such faculties. For this only those can give advice who have already developed such powers within themselves. As: long as the human race has existed, there have always been schools in which those who possessed these higher faculties gave instruction to those who were in search of them. Such are called the occult schools, and the instruction which is imparted therein is called esoteric science, or occult teaching. Such a designation naturally awakens misunderstanding. He who hears it may be very easily misled into the belief that those who work in these, schools desire to represent a special, privileged class, which arbitrarily withholds its knowledge from its fellow-creatures. Indeed, he may even think that perhaps there is nothing really important behind such knowledge. For he is tempted to think that, if it were a true knowledge, there would then be no need to make a secret about it: one might then communicate it publicly and open up its advantages to all men.

Those who have been initiated into the nature of the occult knowledge are not in the least surprised that the uninitiated should so think. Only he who has to a certain degree experienced this initiation into the higher secrets of being can understand the secret of that initiation. But it may be asked: How, then, shall the uninitiated, considering the circumstances, develop any interest at all in this so-called occult knowledge? How and why ought they to search for something of whose nature they can form no idea? But such a question is based upon an entirely erroneous conception of the real nature of occult knowledge. There is, in truth, no difference between occult knowledge and all the rest of man's knowledge and capacity. This occult knowledge is no more of a secret for the average man than writing is a secret to him who has never learned to read. And just as everyone who chooses the correct method may learn to write, so too can everyone who searches after the right way become a disciple, and even a teacher. In only one respect are the conditions here different from those that apply to external thought activities. The possibility of acquiring the art of writing may be withheld from someone through poverty, or through the state of civilisation into which he has been born; but for the attainment of knowledge in the higher worlds there is no obstacle for him who sincerely reaches for it.

Many believe that one has to find, here or there, the Masters of the higher knowledge, in order to receive enlightenment from them. In the first place, he who strives earnestly after the higher knowledge need not be afraid of any difficulty or obstacle in his search for an Initiate who shall be able to lead him into the profounder secrets of the world. Everyone, on the contrary, may be certain that an Initiate will find him out, under any circumstances, if there is in him an earnest and worthy endeavour to attain this knowledge. For it is a strict law amongst all Initiates to withhold from no man the knowledge that is due to him. But there is an equally strict law which insists that no one shall receive any occult knowledge until he is worthy. And the more strictly he observes these two laws, the more perfect is an Initiate. The order which embraces all Initiates is surrounded, as it were, by a wall, and the two laws here mentioned form two strong principles by which the constituents of this wall are held together. You may live in close friendship with an Initiate, yet this wall will separate him from you just as long as you have not become an Initiate yourself. You may enjoy in the fullest sense the heart, the love of an Initiate, yet he will only impart to you his secret when you yourself are ready for it. You may flatter him; you may torture him; nothing will induce him to divulge to you anything which he knows ought not to be disclosed, inasmuch as you, at the present stage of your evolution, do not understand how rightly to receive the secret into your soul.

The ways which prepare a man for the reception of a secret are clearly prescribed. They are indicated by the unfading, everlasting letters within the temples where the Initiates guard the hi4her secrets. In ancient times, anterior to “history,” these temples were outwardly visible; today, because our lives have become so unspiritual, they are mostly quite invisible to external sight. Yet they are present everywhere, and all who seek may find them.

Only within his soul may a man discover the means which will open for him the lips of the Initiate. To a certain high degree he must develop within himself special faculties, and then the greatest treasures of the Spirit become his own.

He must begin with a certain fundamental attitude of the soul: the student of Occultism calls it the Path of Devotion, of Veneration. Only he who maintains this attitude can, in Occultism, become a disciple. And he who has experience in these things is able to perceive even in the child the signs of approaching discipleship. There are children who look up with religious awe to those they venerate. For such people they have a respect which forbids them to admit even in the innermost sanctuary of the heart any thought of criticism or opposition. Such children grow up into young men and maidens who feel happy when they are able to look up to anything venerable. From the ranks of such children are recruited many disciples. Have you ever paused outside the door of some venerated man, and have you, on this your first visit, felt a religious awe as you pressed the handle, in order to enter the room which for you is a holy place? Then there has been manifested in you an emotion which may be the germ of your future discipleship. It is a blessing for every developing person to have such emotions upon which to build. Only it must not be thought that such qualities are the germ of submissiveness and slavery. Experience teaches us that those can best hold their heads erect who have learnt to venerate where veneration is due. And veneration is always in its place when it rises from the depths of the heart.

If we do not develop within ourselves this deeply-rooted feeling that there is something higher than ourselves, we shall never find enough strength to evolve to something higher. The Initiate has only acquired the power of lifting his intellect to the heights of knowledge by guiding his heart into the depths of veneration and devotion. The heights of the Spirit can only be reached by passing through the portals of humility. You can only acquire right knowledge when you have learnt to esteem it. Man has certainly the right to gaze upon the Reality, but he must first acquire this right. There are laws in the spiritual life, as in the physical life. Rub a glass rod with an appropriate material and it will become electric, that is to say, it will receive the power of attracting small bodies. This exemplifies natural law. And if one has learnt even a little of physics, one knows this. Similarly, if one is acquainted with the first principles of Occultism, one knows that every feeling of true devotion which opens out in the soul, develops a power which may, sooner or later, lead to the Path of Knowledge.

He who possesses within himself this feeling of devotion, or who is fortunate enough to receive it from his education, brings a great deal along with him, when, later in life, he seeks an entrance to the higher knowledge. But he who brings no such preparation will find himself confronted with difficulties even upon the first step of the Path of Knowledge, unless he undertakes, by rigorous self-education, to create the devotional mood within himself. In our time it is especially important that full attention be given to this point. Our civilisation tends much more towards criticism, the giving of judgments, and so forth, than toward devotion, and a selfless veneration. Our children already criticise far more than they worship. But every judgment, every carping criticism, frustrates the powers of the soul for the attainment of the higher knowledge, in the same measure that all heartfelt devotion develops them. In this we do not wish to say anything against our civilisation. It is in no way a question of passing a criticism upon it. It is just to this critical faculty, this self-conscious human judgment, this “prove all things and hold fast the good,” that we owe the greatness of our civilisation. We could never have attained to the science, the commerce, the industry, the law of our time, had we not exercised our critical faculty everywhere, had we not everywhere applied the standard of our judgment. But what we have thereby gained in external culture we have had to pay for with a corresponding loss of the higher knowledge, of the spiritual life.

Now the one thing that everyone must clearly understand is that for him who is right in the centre of the objective civilisation of our time, it is very difficult to advance to the knowledge of the higher worlds. He can only do so if he works energetically within himself. At a time when the conditions of outward life were simpler, spiritual exaltation was easier of attainment. That which ought to be venerated, that which ought to be kept holy, stood out in better relief from the ordinary things of the world. In a period of criticism these ideals are lowered; other emotions take the place of veneration, respect, prayer, and wonder. Our own age continually pushes these emotions further and further back, so that in the daily life of the people they play but a very small part. He who seeks for, higher knowledge must create it within himself; he must himself instil it into his soul. It cannot be done by study: it can only be done through life. He who wishes to become a disciple must therefore assiduously cultivate the devotional mood. Everywhere in his environment he must look for that which demands of him admiration and homage. Whenever his duties or circumstances permit, he should try to renounce entirely all criticism or judgment. If I meet a man and blame him for his weakness, I rob myself of power to win the higher knowledge; but if I try to enter lovingly into his merits, I then gather such power. The disciple must continually try to follow out this advice. Experienced occultists are aware how much they owe to the continual searching for the good in all things, and the withholding of all carping criticism. This must not remain only as an external rule of life; rather must it take possession of the innermost part of our souls. We have it in our power to perfect ourselves, and by and by to transform ourselves completely. But this transformation must take place in the innermost self, in the mental life. It is not enough that I show respect only in my outward bearing toward a person; I must have this respect in my thought. The disciple must begin by drawing this devotion into his thought-life, He must altogether banish from his consciousness all thoughts of disrespect, of criticism, and he must endeavour straightway to cultivate thoughts of devotion.

Every moment in which we set ourselves to banish from our consciousness whatever remains in it of disparaging, suspicious judgment of our fellow-men, every such moment brings us nearer to the knowledge of higher things. And we rise rapidly when, in such moments, we fill our consciousness only with thoughts that evoke in us admiration, respect, and veneration for men and things. He who has experience in these matters will know that in every such moment powers are awakened in man which otherwise remain dormant. In this way the spiritual eyes of a man are opened. He begins to see things around him which hitherto he was unable to see. He begins to understand that hitherto he had only seen a part of the world around him. The man with whom he comes in contact now shows him quite a different aspect from what he showed before. Of course, he will not yet, through this rule of life alone, be able to see what has elsewhere been described as the human aura, because, for that, a still higher training is necessary. But he can rise to this higher training if he has previously gone through a thorough training in devotion. [In the last chapter of the book entitled Theosophie (Berlin, C. A. Schwetschke und Sohn), Dr. Rudolf Steiner fully describes this “Path of Knowledge;” here it is only intended to give some practical details.]

Noiseless and unnoticed by the outer world is the treading of the “Path of Discipleship.” It is not necessary that anyone should notice a change in the disciple. He does his duties as hitherto; he attends to his business as before. The transformation goes on only in the inner part of the soul, hidden from outward sight. At first the entire soul-life of a man is flooded by this fundamental mood of devotion for everything which is truly venerable. His entire soul-life finds in this fundamental mood its pivot. Just as the sun, through its rays, will vivify everything living, so in the life of the disciple this reverence vivifies all the perceptions of the soul.

At first it is not easy for people to believe that feelings like reverence, respect, and so forth, have anything to do with their perceptions. This comes from the fact that one is inclined to think of perception as a faculty quite by itself, one that stands in no relation to what otherwise happens in the soul. In so thinking, we do not remember that it is the soul which perceives. And feelings are for the soul what food is for the body. If we give the body stones in place of bread its activity will cease. It is the same with the soul. Veneration, homage, devotion, are as nutriment which makes it healthy and strong, and especially strong for the activity of perception. Disrespect, antipathy, and under-estimation, bring about the starvation and withering of this activity. For the occultist this fact is visible in the aura. A soul which harbours the feelings of devotion and reverence, brings about a change in its aura. Certain yellowish-red or brown-red tints will vanish, and tints of bluish-red will replace them. And then the organ of perception opens. It receives information of facts in its neighbourhood of which hitherto it had no knowledge. Reverence awakens a sympathetic power in the soul, and through this we attract similar qualities in the beings which surround us, which would otherwise remain hidden.

More effective still is that power which can be obtained by devotion when another feeling is added. One learns to give oneself up less and less to the impressions of the outer world, and to develop in its place a vivid inward life. He who darts from one impression of the outer world to another, constantly seeks dissipations, cannot find the way to Occultism. The disciple must not blunt himself to the outer world; but rich inner life will point out the direction in which he ought to lend himself to its impressions. When passing through a beautiful mountain district, the man with depth of soul and richness of emotion has different experiences from the man with few emotions. Only what we experience within ourselves opens up the beauties of the outer world. One man sails across the ocean, and only a few inward experiences pass through his soul: but another will then hear the eternal language of the World-Spirit, and for him are unveiled the mysteries of creation. One must have learnt to control one's own feelings and ideas if one wishes to develop any intimate relationship with the outer world. Every phenomenon in that outer World is full of divine splendour, but one must have felt the Divine within oneself before one can hope to discover it without. The disciple is told to set apart certain moments of his daily life during which to withdraw into himself, quietly and alone. But at such time he ought not to occupy himself with his own personal affairs, for this would bring about the contrary of that which he is aiming at. During these moments he ought rather to listen in complete silence to the echoes of what he has experienced, of what the outward world has told him. Then, in these periods of quiet, every flower, every animal, every action will unveil to him secrets undreamed of, and thus he will prepare himself to receive new impressions of the external world, as if he viewed it with different eyes. For he who merely desires to enjoy impression after impression, only stultifies the perceptive faculty, while he who lets the enjoyment afterwards reveal something to him, thus enlarges and educates it. But he must be careful not merely to let the enjoyment reverberate, as it were; but, renouncing any further enjoyment, rather to work upon his pleasurable experiences with an inward activity. The danger at this point is very great. Instead of working within one self, it is easy to fall into the opposite habit of afterwards trying to completely exhaust the enjoyment. Let us not undervalue the unforeseen sources of error which here confront the disciple. He must of necessity pass through a host of temptations, each of which tends only to harden his Ego and to imprison it within itself. He ought to open it wide for the whole world. It is necessary that he should seek enjoyment, for in this way only can the outward world get at him; and if he blunts himself to enjoyment he becomes as a plant which cannot any longer draw nourishment from its environment. Yet, if he stops at the enjoyment, he is then shut up within himself, and will only be something to himself and nothing to the world. However much he may live within himself, however intensely he may cultivate his Ego, the world will exclude him. He is dead to the world. But the disciple considers enjoyment only as a means of ennobling himself for the world. Pleasure is to him as a scout who informs him concerning the world, and after having been taught by pleasure he passes on to work. He does not learn in order that he may accumulate learning as his own treasure, but in order that he may put his learning at the service of the world.

In all forms of Occultism there is a fundamental principle which cannot be transgressed, if any goal at all is to be reached. Every occult teacher must impress it upon his pupils, and it runs as follows: Every branch of knowledge which you seek only to enrich your own learning, only to accumulate treasure for yourself, leads you away from the Path: but all knowledge which you seek for working in the service of humanity and for the uplifting of the world, brings you a step forward. This law must be rigidly observed; nor is one a genuine disciple until he has adopted it as the guide for his whole life. In many occult schools this truth is expressed in the following short sentences. Every idea which does not become an ideal for you, slays a power in your soul: every idea which becomes an ideal creates within you living powers.

Source: The Rudolf Steiner Archive

War: what is it good for? Cromulence

 

Continued:

delulu is the perfectly cromulent solulu

The Way of Initiation. Chapter 1: The Superphysical World and Its Gnosis

 

This book is an early version of the first half of Rudolf Steiner's book entitled Knowledge of the Higher Worlds and Its Attainment. The book Initiation and Its Results corresponds to the second half of Knowledge of the Higher Worlds and Its Attainment.

It is natural that most people, who hear of transcendental truths in our time, should at once put the question: “How may we attain to such knowledge for ourselves?” Indeed, it is often remarked as a characteristic of people today, that they will accept nothing on faith, on mere “authority,” but wish rather to rely entirely upon their own judgment. And therefore it is that when mystics and theosophists profess to know something of the superphysical nature of man, and of the destiny of the human soul and spirit before birth and after death, they are at once confronted with this fundamental demand of our day. Such dogmas, they seem to say, have only an importance for anyone when you have shown him the way by which he may convince himself of their truth.

This demand is quite justified; and never could any true mystic or theosophist fail to recognise it. But it is equally certain that with many who make it, there exists a feeling of scepticism or antagonism toward the assertions of the mystic. This feeling becomes especially marled when the mystic sets out by intimating how the truths which he has described may be attained. For then people often say to him: “What is true may be demonstrated; therefore, prove to us what you assert.” Furthermore, they imply that the truth must be something clear and simple, something which a. “modest” intellect may comprehend; surely, they seem to say, it cannot be the possession: of a chosen few, to whoa it is given by a “special revelation!” And in this way the messenger of transcendental truths is frequently confronted with people who reject him, because—unlike the scientist, for example—he can produce no proofs for his assertions, of such a nature as they can themselves understand. Again, there are some who more cautiously reject these matters, but who nevertheless, refuse any close connection with them because, they think, they do not seem reasonable. Thereupon they soothe themselves, though not entirely, by saying that we cannot know anything of what lies beyond birth or death, of what we cannot perceive with our senses.

These are but a few of the conceptions and criticisms with which today the messenger of a spiritual philosophy has to deal. But they are similar to all those that compose the key-note of our time. And he who puts himself at the service of a spiritual movement must recognise this key-note quite clearly.

For his own part, the mystic is aware that his knowledge rests upon superphysical facts; just as facts, for example, form the foundation of the experiences and observations described by a traveller in Africa. To the mystic applies what Annie Besant has said in her manual, “Death—and After?”

“A seasoned African explorer would care but little for the criticisms passed on his report by persons who had never been thither; he might tell what he saw, describe the animals whose habits he had studied, sketched the country he had traversed, sum up its products and its characteristics. If he was contradicted, laughed at, set right, by untravelled critics, he would be neither ruffled nor distressed, but would merely leave them alone. Ignorance cannot convince knowledge by repeated asseveration of its nescience. The opinion of a hundred persons on a subject of which they are wholly ignorant is of no more weight than the opinion of one such person. Evidence is strengthened by many consenting witnesses, testifying each to his knowledge of a fact, but nothing multiplied a thousand times remains nothing.”

Here is expressed the mystic's view of himself. He hears the objections which are raised on every side, yet he knows that he has no need to dispute them. He realises that his certain knowledge is being criticised by those who have not experienced or felt as he himself has done. He is in the position of a mathematician who has discovered a truth which loses no value though a thousand voices are raised in opposition.

Here at once will arise the objection of the sceptic: “Mathematical truths may be proved to anyone,” he will say, “and though perhaps you have really found something, I shall only accept it when I have learnt of its truth by my, own observation.” Then he considers himself to be in the right, because, as he thinks, it is clear that anyone who acquires the necessary knowledge can prove a mathematical truth, while the experiences professed by the mystic depend upon the special faculties of a few elect people, whom he is expected to believe blindly.

But for him who rightly considers this objection, any justification for the doubt immediately vanishes. For every true mystic will here speak just like the very sceptics themselves. He will always emphasise the truth that the way to the Higher Knowledge is open for anyone who has acquired for himself the faculties by which he may win entrance. The mystic asserts nothing which his opponents would not also be compelled to assert, if they did but fully understand what they are saying. They, however, in making an assertion, at once formulate a claim which constitutes a direct contradiction of their own assertion.

Sceptics are not content to test the assertions of the mystic only when they have acquired the necessary faculties, but rather judge him according to their present faculties, and not with those which he is bound to demand. He says to them; “I do not claim to be ‘chosen’ in the sense that you mean. I have merely worked within myself, in order to acquire these powers through which it is possible to speak of glimpses into superphysical regions. But these faculties are dormant within everyone, only they must be developed.” But his opponents then answer: “You must prove your truths to us as we are now.” They will not meet his demand that they should develop, first, the dormant powers within them, but rather, without being willing to do so, insist that he shall give there proofs. Nor do they see that this is exactly as if a peasant at his plough should demand of the mathematician the proof of a complicated problem without first undergoing the trouble of learning mathematics.

All this appears to be so simple that one almost hesitates to speak of it. And yet it indicates a delusion under which millions of people at the present time are living. If one explains it to them they always agree with it in theory, since it is quite as obvious as that two and two make four. Yet in practice they continually contradict it. One can very soon convince oneself of that. Tue mistake has become second nature with many; they practise it without any longer realising that they do so, without desiring to be convinced of it, just as they offend against everything which they would at all times allow to pass for a principle of the simplest nature, could they only consider it quietly. It matters not whether the mystic of today moves in a circle of thinking artisans, or in a more educated circle, for wherever he goes he meets with the same prejudice, the same self-contradiction. One finds it in popular lectures, in all the newspapers and magazines, and even in more learned works or treatises.

And here we must recognise quite clearly that we are dealing with a sign of the time which we cannot simply consider as mere incompetence, nor expose as criticism, correct perhaps, but nevertheless not just. We must understand that this symptom, this prejudice against the higher truths, lies deep in the very being of our age. We must understand clearly that the great successes, the immense advance, which distinguish it, necessarily tend toward this mistake. The nineteenth century especially had in this respect a dark side to its wonderful excellences. Its greatness rests upon its discoveries in the external world, and its conquest of natural forces for technical and industrial purposes. These successes could only have been attained by the observation of the senses, and afterwards by the employment of the mind noon what the senses had thus perceived. The civilisation of the present day is the result of the training of our senses, and of that part of our mind which is occupied with the world of sense. Almost every step we take in the street today shows us how much we owe to this kind of training. And it is under the influence of these blessings of civilisation that the habits of thought prevalent among our fellowmen of today have been developed. They continue to abide by the senses and the mind, because it is by means of these that they have grown great. People were taught to train themselves to admit nothing as true except those things that were presented to them by the senses or the mind. And nothing is more apt to claim for itself the only valid testimony, the only absolute authority, than the mind or the senses. If a man has acquired by means of them a certain degree of culture, he thenceforth accustoms himself to submit everything to their consideration, everything to their criticism. And again in another sphere, in the domain of Social Life, we find a similar trait. The man of the nineteenth century insisted, in the fullest sense of the word, upon the absolute freedom of personality, and repudiated any authority in the Social Commonwealth. He endeavoured to construct the community in such a way that the full independence, the self-chosen vocation of each individual, should, without interference, be assured. In this way it became habitual for him to consider everything from the standpoint of the average individual. The higher powers which lie dormant in the soul may be developed by one person in this direction, by another in that. One will make more progress, another less. When they develop such powers, or when they attach any value to them, men begin to differentiate themselves. One must also, if one admits their existence, allow to the man who has progressed further, more right to speak on a subject, or to act in a certain way, than to another who is less advanced. But with regard to the senses and the mind, one may employ an average standard. All have there the same rights, the same liberty.

It is also noticeable that the present formation of the Social Commonwealth has helped to bring about a revolt against the higher powers of man. According to the mystic, civilisation during the nineteenth century has altogether moved along physical lines; and people have accustomed themselves to move on the physical plane alone, and to feel at home there. The higher powers are only developed on planes other than the physical, and the knowledge which these faculties bring has, therefore, become alien to man. It is only necessary to attend mass-meetings, if one wishes to be convinced of the fact that the speakers there are totally unable to think any thoughts but those which refer to the physical plane, the world of sense. This can also be seen among the leading journalists of our papers and magazines; and, indeed, on all sides one can observe the haughtiest and most complete denial of everything that cannot be seen with the eyes, or felt with the hands, or comprehended by the average mind. Once more let it be said that we do not condemn this attitude. It denotes a necessary stage in the development of humanity. Without the pride and prejudices of mind and sense, we should never have achieved our great conquests over material life, nor have been able to impart to the personality a certain measure of elasticity: neither could we hope that many ideals, which must be founded on man's desire for freedom and the assertion of personality, might yet be realised.

But this dark side of a purely materialistic civilisation has deeply affected the whole being of the modern man. For proof it is not necessary to refer to the obvious facts already named; it would be easy to demonstrate by certain examples which are lightly underrated, especially today, how deeply rooted in the mind of the modern man is this adhesion to the testimony of the senses, or the average intelligence. And it is just these things that indicate the need for the renewal of spiritual life.

The strong response evoked by Professor Friedrich Delitzsch's Babel and Bible Theory fully justifies a reference to its author's method of thinking, as a sign of the time. Professor Delitzsch has demonstrated the relationship of certain traditions in the Old Testament to the Babylonian accounts of the Creation, and this fact, coming from such a source and in such a form, has been realised by many who would otherwise have ignored such questions. It has led many to reconsider the so-called idea of Revelation. They ask themselves: How is it possible to accept the idea that the contents of the Old Testament were revealed by God, when we find very similar conceptions among decidedly heathen nations? This problem cannot here be further discussed. Delitzsch found many opponents who feared lest, through iris exposition, the very foundations of Religion had been shaken. He has defended himself in a pamphlet, Babel and Bible, a Retrospect and a Forecast. Here we shall only refer to a single sentence in the pamphlet. It is an important sentence, because it reveals the view of an eminent man of science regarding the position of man with respect to transcendental truths. And today innumerable other people think and feel just like Delitzsch. The sentence affords an excellent opportunity for us to find out what is the innermost conviction of our contemporaries, expressed here quite freely and therefore in its truest form.

Delitzsch turns to those who reproach him with a somewhat liberal use of the term “Revelation,” who would fain regard it as “a kind of old priestly wisdom” which “has nothing at all to do with the layman.” In opposition to this he says:

“For my part, I am of opinion that while our children or ourselves are instructed in school or at church as regards Revelation, not only are we within our right, but it is our duty, to think independently concerning these deep questions, possessing also, as they do, an eminently practical side, were it only that we might avoid giving our children ‘evasive’ answers. For this very reason it will be gratifying to many searchers after Truth when the dogma of a special ‘choosing’ of Israel shall have been brought forward into the light of a wider historical outlook, though the union of Babylonian, Assyrian, and Old Testament research. ... (A few pages earlier we are shown the direction of such thoughts.) For the rest, it would seem to me that the only logical thing is for Church and School to be satisfied as regards the whole past history of the world and of humanity, with the belief in One Almighty Creator of Heaven and Earth, and that these tales of the Old Testament should be classified by themselves under some such title as ‘Old Hebraic Myths.’”

(It may be taken as a matter of course, we suppose, that no one will see in the following remarks an attack on the investigator Delitzsch.) What, then, is here said in naive simplicity? Nothing less than that the mind which is engaged upon physical investigation may assert the right of judging: experiences of superphysical nature. There is no thought that this mind, without further preparing itself, may perhaps be unfit to reflect upon the teachings of these “Revelations.” When one wishes to understand what appears as a “Revelation,” one cannot do so unless one brings to bear upon it those forces out of which the “Revelation” itself has come.

He who develops within himself the mystical power of perception soon observes that in certain stories of the Old Testament which were called by Delitzsch “Old Hebraic Myths,” there are revealed to him truths of a higher nature than those which may be comprehended by the intellect, which is only concerned with the things of sense. His own mystical experiences will lead him to see that these “Myths” have proceeded out of a mystical perception of transcendental truths. And then, in one moment, his whole point of view is changed.

As little as one can demonstrate the fallacy of a mathematical problem by discovering who solved it first, or even that several people have solved it—which would certainly be a valuable historical discovery—just so little can one impugn the truth of a biblical narrative by the discovery of a similar story elsewhere. Instead of demanding that everyone should insist upon his right, or even his duty, to think independently on the so-called “Revelations,” we ought rather to consider that only he has a. right to decide anything about the matter who has developed in himself those latent powers which make it possible for him to relive what was once realised by those very mystics who proclaimed the “super-sensuous revelations.”

Here we have an excellent example of how the average intellect, qualified for the highest triumphs in practical sense-knowledge, sets itself up, in naive pride, as a judge in domains, the existence of which it does not even care to learn. For purely historical investigation is also carried on by nothing but the experience of the senses.

In just the same way has the investigation of the New Testament led us into a blind alley. At all costs the method of the “Newer Historical Investigation” had to be directed upon the Gospels. These documents have been compared with each other, and brought into relation with all sorts of things, in order that we might find out what really happened in Palestine from the year 1 to the year 33; how the “historical personality” of whom they tell really lived, and what He can really have said.

Now a man of the seventeenth century, Angelus Silesius, has already expressed the whole of the critical attitude toward this kind of investigation:

“Though Christ were yearly born in Bethlehem, and never Had birth in you yourself, teen were you lost for ever; And if within yourself it is not reared again, The Cross at Golgotha can save you not from pain.”

Nor are these the words of one who doubted, but of a Christian, strong in his belief. And his equally fervent predecessor, Meister Eckhart, said in the thirteenth century:

“There are some who desire to see God with their eyes, as they look at a cow; and just as they love a cow, so they desire to love God. ... Simple-minded people imagine that God may be seen as if He stood there and they stood here. But this is not so: in that perception, God and I are one,”

These words must emphatically not be directed against investigation of “historical truth.” Yet no one can rightly understand the historic truth of such documents as the Gospels, unless he has first experienced within himself the mystical meaning which they contain. All such comparisons and analyses are quite worthless, for no one can discover who was “born in Bethlehem” but he who has mystically experienced the Christ within himself; neither can anyone in whom it has not already been erected, decide how it is that “the Cross at Golgotha” can deliver us from pain. Purely historical investigation “can discover no more concerning the mystic reality than the dismembering anatomist, perhaps, can discover the secret of a great poetical genius.” (See my book, Das Christentum als mystische Tatsache, Berlin, C. A. Schwetschke and Sohn, 1902, or its French translation, mentioned on page 1.)

He who can see clearly in these matters is aware how deeply rooted, at the present time, is the “pride” of the intellect, which only concerns itself with the facts of sense. It says: “I do not wish to develop faculties in order that I may reach the higher truths; I wish to form my decisions concerning them with the powers that I now possess.”

In a well-meant pamphlet, which is written, however, entirely in that spirit of the age which we have already indicated (What do we know about Jesus? by A. Kalthoff, Berlin, 1904), we read as follows:

“Christ, who symbolises the life of the Community, may be discerned within himself by the man of today: out of his own soul the man of today can create Christ just as well as the author of a gospel created him; as a man he may put himself in the same position as the gospel-writers, because he can reinstate himself into the same soul-processes, can himself speak or write Gospel.”

These words may be true, but they may also be entirely erroneous. They are true when understood in the sense of Angelus Silesius, or of Meister Eckhart, when they are referred to the development of powers dormant in every human soul, which, from some such idea, endeavours to experience within itself the Christ of the Gospels. They are altogether wrong, if a more or less shallow ideal of the Christ is thus created out of the spirit of an age that acknowledges the truth of no perceptions but those of the senses.

The life of the Spirit can only be understood when we do not wish to criticise it with the lower mind, but rather to develop ourselves for it internally. No one can hope to learn anything of the highest truths accessible to man, if he demands that they shall be lowered to the “average understanding.” To this it might be objected: Why, then, do you, mystics and theosophists, proclaim these truths to people who, as you declare, cannot as yet understand them? Why should there be a Theosophical Movement which proclaims certain teachings, when the powers which bring men to the perception of them ought first to be developed?

It is the task of this book to solve this apparent contradiction. It will show that the spiritual currents of our day speak from a different basis, in a different manner, from the science which relies entirely on the lower intellect. Yet, in spite of this, the spiritual currents are not less scientific than the science which is based upon physical facts alone. Rather do they extend the field of scientific investigation into the superphysical. We must close this chapter with one more question, which will perhaps be asked: How can one attain to superphysical truths, and, towards this attainment, of what help are spiritual movements?

Source: The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Humankind's struggle for morality. The Fall of the Spirits of Darkness: Lecture 2 of 14

   

The Fall of the Spirits of Darkness

Lecture 2 of 14

Rudolf Steiner, Dornach, Switzerland

September 30, 1917

This lecture will add further details to an image which I finally hope to present in its entirety tomorrow.

We are living at a time — yesterday's lecture will have given you an idea of this — of which we can say that much will have to change in the way people think, feel, and use their will. Our inner aims will have to change. It is especially with regard to our innermost being that old, inherited and acquired habits will have to go and a new way of thinking and feeling develop. This is what our time demands. I think it can have a profound and truly significant effect on people to ponder the truth I presented yesterday, which is, to put it simply, that there can only be one of two things: destructive processes here on the physical plane, or the spiritual development of humanity. Just think what it means — that, knowing this truth, we shall be compelled to feel socially at one with the dead, the departed. Our inner response to present events on this physical plane is one of deep pain, and it is right this should be so; on the other hand, we should not forget that the number of people who have taken up spiritual life in recent decades is small, and the souls of those who have not done so are thirsting for destructive processes here on the physical plane because these will give them the powers they need for the life of soul and spirit which comes after death. In practice this means we are challenged to do everything we can to encourage spiritual life as the only way of freeing future humanity from those destructive forces. It has to be clearly understood, of course, that this was different in the past, when the fact that an age of materialism must inevitably summon up an age of wars and devastation did not hold true to the same degree. It will, however, hold true in future.

Humanity is laboring under numerous illusions that have their origin in the past. The consequences of these have not been as serious in the past as they will be in the future evolution of humanity. I think it is fair to say that, generally speaking, human souls are still very much asleep at the present time, and fail to notice many of the tremendous changes now taking place. Sometimes, however, some of this comes through at an instinctive level, and individuals are then aware of the great riddles of the age. However, many are not fully active inwardly and therefore not yet able to experience these riddles in their full depth.

Taking note of the turbulent and destructive events of today, some individuals are becoming aware of one such riddle. Yet they are in many respects quite unable to find the answers. The riddle I am speaking of is the discrepancy between intellectual and moral development in human evolution. Strangely enough, recent developments in materialistic thinking have led none other than the Darwinists to this conclusion. Haeckel, too, has commented to this effect in his Welträtsel.[ Note 1 ] Now, in these times of war, it can be seen again and again that this imbalance between intellectual and moral life in human evolution is beginning to puzzle people. They say to themselves, quite rightly, that the life of the intellect, the rational mind, has made tremendous advances. This is what many people call the realm of science today; it provides the basis for the modern materialistic view. Consider the tremendous advances made as the laws of nature have been penetrated, studied, and finally used to build all kinds of instruments — most recently especially the instruments for murder! People will also begin to consider other things in the light of this science of theirs. They will analyze foods for their constituents and manufacture chemical foods, never realizing that chemical foods are not the same as those provided by nature, even if they do have the same constituents.

Intellectual, or we may also say scientific, development has shown an upward trend. Moral development has not progressed to the same extent. Surely the present world catastrophe could not have arisen, or taken the course it has taken, if moral development had kept pace with intellectual development. It would be right to say that because moral development has not progressed, intellectual development has assumed something of an amoral character and has in many respects become downright destructive. Many people are beginning to notice that the moral development has not been keeping pace with the intellectual development of humanity today. However, no one asks at the present time that issues like these should be gone into sufficiently deeply so that they may serve a truly human evolution. No one asks that they should be tackled at the point where it is fully evident that modern people simply cannot penetrate to the deeper sources of human thinking and human actions, because elements which are separate and distinct in man and relate to quite different regions of the universe are all mixed up in people's minds.

Modern scientists are faced with a human being consisting of physical body, etheric body — the body of generative powers — astral body, and ego; but everything is mixed up. People do not make the distinction in modern science. How can we arrive at a science that will enable us to grasp these things if everything is mixed up together? The truth is that these different aspects of human nature belong to entirely different regions and spheres of the universe. Our physical body and our generative powers relate to the physical world; with the astral body and the ego we enter a totally different world every night, and initially this has extraordinarily little to do with the world in which we are awake during the day. The two worlds really only work together in so far as they are brought together in the human realm.

Consider also that the human ego and astral body are much younger than the physical and etheric bodies. The first beginnings of the physical body go back to the time of ancient Saturn. That early body progressed through four stages — Saturn, Sun, Moon, and Earth — to reach its present level of evolution on Earth. The etheric body has gone through three stages, the astral body through two stages. The ego has only come in during Earth evolution; it is young and belongs to an entirely different cosmic age. The apparatus or instrument of our human intellect is intimately bound up with the physical body. It has reached a great level of perfection because the physical body has gone through such a comprehensive process of development in the Saturn, Sun, Moon, and Earth periods. We can see this from the level to which the nerves, the brain, and the blood have developed. This, then, is the highly developed instrument we use for our intellectual activity.

On a previous occasion here in Dornach I suggested that the human being is much more complex than we are inclined to think. When we say ‘physical body’ we are speaking of something that is far from simple. It is based on principles that go back to ancient Saturn. Then the etheric body was added. This created its own element in the physical body; the astral body also created its own element in the physical body, and so did the ego. The physical body thus really has four elements to it. One of these relates to the physical body as such, one to the etheric body, one to the astral body, and one to the ego. The etheric body has three elements — one related to itself, one to the astral body, one to the ego.

Let us stay with the physical body for the moment. We find that during the night, when we are asleep, the element of the physical body relating to the physical body continues in the usual way. The element relating to the etheric body can also continue, for the etheric body stays with the physical body. But what happens to the element relating to the astral body, which is organized to meet the needs of an astral body that wants to go outside, and with the element relating to an ego which has also gone outside? During the night, these two elements — let us call them the astral physical body and the ego's physical body — are forsaken by the principles on which their whole organization is based. The ego and the astral body are then outside the parts of the physical body to which they belong. For as long as we live between birth and death we are really leaving something behind in bed every night which is not taken care of by the principle to which it relates. It clearly has to function differently during the night than it does during the day; I think you can see this. During the day the astral body and the ego are active and aglow in it; during the night they are not. People do not enquire into these things today because everything has merged into one and become mixed up in their minds, as I have said. They do not distinguish between the different aspects of their body, though these can be quite clearly distinguished.

During the night when we are asleep the ‘astral physical’ element in the physical body exercises powers very similar to the powers of Mercury, the mercurial powers that make mercury liquid, and so on. The part of the physical body relating to the ego acts like salt during sleep. Human beings thus have Salt and Mercury flowing through them during sleep.

Up to the fourteenth century, those alchemists who must be taken seriously still knew of these things. After this, sectarianism came into alchemy and the books were written which are generally read today. The old knowledge was still to be found with Jacob Boehme, [ Note 2 ] however, who used the terms Salt, Mercury, and Sulphur.

These are some of the secrets of human nature. We say, then, that when we are asleep we look down on a body that has become mercurial and salty. The fact that the body becomes mercurial has highly significant consequences, and we may be able to say more about this in the course of these weeks. The fact that it becomes salty — well, I think it is not at all difficult for people to discover this for themselves when they get up in the mornings.

What is the significance, however? It is more or less like this: On waking, the ego and astral body, having been outside in the world of the spirit during sleep, enter into the salty, or mineral, principle in the human body and into the mercurial principle, which flows within the human being as a vitalizing principle. Principles which have been separated during the night now come together. As they interact, opportunity is given for the things acquired in the world of the spirit to be brought in. Mercury and Salt have been resting; now the ego and astral body enter and fill them with what they have gained in the world of the spirit. As a result, the physical body, the instrument which has evolved from ancient Saturn, is enriched still further. On the one hand the physical body is the instrument we use for intellectual activity, and it is truly venerable and highly developed because it has evolved over such a long time. Yet, on the other hand, the process I have just described can bring the influence of the spiritual world to bear in the present time. As a result, human beings are now able to influence the instrument of the intellect from the world of the spirit, and intellectual thinking can play such a significant role in the present age.

The world in which we are between going to sleep and waking up again does, however, have one peculiarity — there is nothing in it by way of moral laws. Strange as it may seem, between going to sleep and waking up again you are in a world devoid of moral laws. We might also say it is a world that is not yet moral. When we wake up, the impulses we bring from this world may take hold of the physical body and the etheric body with regard to the intellect, but cannot in any way take hold of them in any moral sense. This is quite impossible, for the world in which we are between going to sleep and waking up again does not have moral laws. People who think it would have been better for the gods to arrange things in such a way that humans did not have to live on the physical plane at all are very much mistaken; for in that case people could never become moral. Human beings acquire morality by living here on the physical plane. In short, we bring wisdom to the physical body from the world of the spirit, but not morality.

This is tremendously important and significant, for it explains why humanity must inevitably lag behind when it comes to moral principles, whereas the gods have made excellent provision for their intellectual development, not only providing them with an instrument which has evolved through the Saturn, Sun, Moon, and Earth periods, but also giving them the wherewithal by which to maintain the intellect by filling them with wisdom in the world which they enter during sleep. It will not be until later periods, in the second half of Venus evolution, that we make connection with a moral world during sleep. Clearly, it is therefore tremendously important for us to see to it that our social life becomes truly moral.

These are the things modern humanity does not want to consider. Some are aware of the riddles, as I have said, but people do not want to consider the deeper reasons, for that would be too much of an effort. They want to take human nature as it presents itself and refuse to consider that in many respects it extends into the worlds of the cosmos, beyond space and beyond time, and that human nature cannot be explained if we merely look at it the way in which it normally comes to expression and do not take account of these other aspects. It is a magnificent and awesome truth that sleep helps our intellectual thinking, even our genius — for geniuses, too, bring back elements from sleep that enter into their mercurial and salt principles — in fact, it is this which makes someone a genius; but morality can only be provided for if human beings gradually let the moral element enter into them here on the physical plane.

For humanity here on earth, the Christ impulse is the heart of the moral life. It is therefore most important — I have stressed this before, from other points of view — that human beings encounter the Christ impulse here on the physical plane. We have to look at this from many different points of view. So it seems we can now understand why people who have all kinds of impulses based on wisdom at an instinctive level — for these impulses are given in sleep — and are able to invent tremendously complex machines, playing a role in the advance of science and technology, need not connect this in any way with morality, for morality belongs to a totally different sphere.

People do not like to hear or know such things today. Yet they will have to be known if we are to escape from the chaos that has arisen in the world. And this is a very serious matter. Human evolution will not progress unless these truths become part of our life on Earth. The gods did not intend human beings to become automatons which they could influence like automatic machines. They wanted them to be free individuals who realize what will take them forward. It is wrong to ask why the gods do not intervene. Attempts have to be made; and if one such undertaking should go awry, we should not draw the wrong conclusions. Instead, those who come later must let this give them an even greater impetus to work in a way that helps to encourage such an attempt at further development in the spirit. I have recently been much concerned with a significant attempt made in the past which did not entirely come off. I discussed this in the first part of my essay on The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz: Anno 1459 — it is to be continued in Das Reich. [ Note 3 ] The work was written in the early seventeenth century. People were given it to read as early as 1603, and it was published in 1616. The author, Johann Valentin Andreae, also wrote Fama Fraternitatis and Confessio Rosicruci, unusual works which attracted all kinds of comment, some sensible but most of them absurd. All I want to say about them today is that although they may at first sight appear to be satirical, they nevertheless represent one great impulse — to deepen insight into nature in its spiritual aspect to a point where deeper knowledge of the laws of nature also discovers the laws that govern human social life.

This is an area where people find it particularly difficult to distinguish between maya — illusion — and reality. The motives we ourselves or others tend to ascribe to our actions are not the true ones. It is painful to have to realize this, but — I have spoken of this on several occasions — they are not our true motives. Nor are the outward positions people hold in social life their true positions. People are usually completely different inside from the way they present themselves in the social sphere and also from the way they see themselves. People believe so strongly that their actions are based on a particular motive. Some think their motives are entirely selfless, when in reality they are nothing but the most brutal egotism. People are not aware of this because they have such illusions concerning themselves and their social connections. This is another area where we can only discover the truth if we look more deeply into the whole scheme of things.

Johann Valentin Andreae was someone who wanted to look more deeply. What mattered to him, among other things, was to see beyond maya into reality. He was not the kind of superficial person who thinks he can do this with all those harangues profound educationists and others today think will reform the world; he realized that one must look more deeply into the whole scheme which lies behind the world of nature if one is to find the spirit in nature. Then one will also find the threads which truly connect human beings with the spirit. And only then shall we really know the social laws that are needed. You cannot reflect on social relationships today if you think the way people do in modern science, for this will only give you the surface of nature and the surface of social life. Johann Valentin Andreae looked deep down to find nature and the social life, for only there do they come together. It really is like this: Think of the borderline between maya and reality — there you have a peep-hole on nature on the one side and a peep-hole on social life on the other. And you have to look deeper before you realize that they actually only meet a long way back.

People will never reach this point, however. They will continue to look at some of the laws of nature at a surface level and will then speak about social life out of their feeling, out of superficiality. This will not help us to see the scheme of things, however, that Johann Valentin Andreae sought to find. At most we shall get to be — excuse me calling a spade a spade — a Woodrow Wilson. Andreae wanted to discover the scheme of things, and his desire to do so fills such works as his Fama Fraternitatis and Confessio Rosicruci. He was addressing the leaders, the statesmen, of his time; it was an attempt to establish a social order based on truth and not illusion. The Fama appeared in 1614, the Confessio in 1615, and The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz in 1616, though it had already been written in 1603. The year 1618 marked the beginning of the Thirty Years War, [ Note 4 ] which brought conditions in which the truly great things aimed at in the Fama and the Confessio were swept away.

We are now living in an age when one year of war is equal to more than ten years of war in the seventeenth century, because war has become so much more destructive. By the standards of those times we have more than a Thirty Years War behind us already.

Try and see this as something that can guide you toward the will and endeavor that arose in the seventeenth century but was brought to a halt by the Thirty Years War. As I have said, if there have been such attempts and a beginning has been made, we must not let ourselves be put off by this but rather let it spur us on to even greater activity; then a later attempt may not end in failure. The first condition is, however, that we really come to know life.

I now want to relate this to matters I discussed with you last year and at the beginning of this year. I drew your attention to the strange course that the whole of human life and human evolution is taking. Individuals will gain in years, being 1, 2, 3, 4 years old, and later 30, 35, 40, and so on, years old; but the opposite is true for humanity as a whole. Humanity was old to begin with and is getting younger and younger. If we go back in time — for our present purposes we need only go back as far as the watershed between Atlantean and post-Atlantean life when the catastrophe happened on Atlantis — we come first of all to ancient Indian times. Conditions were very different then; humanity as a whole remained capable of further development beyond the 50s. Today we are only capable of developing in such a way in childhood and up to a certain time of our youth, for only then is our physical development directly connected with the development of soul and spirit, and the two run parallel. This soon comes to an end, however. In ancient Indian times, development in soul and spirit continued to be dependent on physical development until well into the 50s. People went on developing the way a child develops, and this only came to an end when they were old men and women. This is the reason why people looked up with such humility to their old people.

During the time of ancient Persia, people were no longer able to develop to such a high level but only into their 40s and early 50s; and in Egyptian and Chaldean times only into their 40s. In Graeco-Latin times, this kind of development went only as far as the thirty-fifth year. Then came a time — you will remember, the Graeco-Latin age began in the eighth century before the Mystery of Golgotha — when human beings were only capable of development up to their thirty-third year. That was the time when the Mystery of Golgotha took place. The age of humanity then matched the age at which Christ went through the Mystery of Golgotha.

After this, the human race got younger and younger. By the beginning of the fifth post-Atlantean age, in the fifteenth century, humanity was only able to develop up to the age of 28, with no further development after this, and today we have reached a point where people only reach the age of 27, if this is left to nature. In the past, human beings naturally remained capable of development into a ripe old age. Today people must conclude such development as comes of its own accord and is tied to the physical body by the age of 27, unless they take up a spiritual impulse in their inner life and push on from within. People who do not take up anything spiritual remain 27 years old even if they live to be 100. It means they have the characteristics of 27-year-olds. And with people refusing to look for inner spiritual impulses, we now have a culture and a social life that is 27 years of age. We do not grow beyond the age of 27 in our outer social life. This age now rules humanity. If we go on like this, humanity will go down to 26, 25, and 24 years, then in the sixth post-Atlantean age to the twenty-first, and later to the fourteenth year.

These things must be looked into, and they should not be taken pessimistically; instead they should give us the inner impulse to go toward the life of the spirit and set out on an inner quest to look for the elements nature is unable to provide.

This is another point of view from which it is apparent that spiritual impulses are needed in civilization. The most characteristic people of our age, those who take the lead today, are people who do not get beyond their twenty-seventh year. The question is, what would really make someone a present-day leader? Well, let us say we have someone who is born and is very much alive, who does not take in much by way of tradition but only what comes by nature, without undue influence from outside; this individual would be very much determined by what comes of its own accord. Education usually gives color and nuance to this in most people. But let us take a really typical individual who essentially shows only the characteristics of the present age, someone born into poverty perhaps and not given an education that puts much emphasis on tradition, but who would only be influenced by whatever arises from circumstance. Such a person would grow up, would be very active initially, for it is part of the present age that one is active up to the seventh, fourteenth, and twenty-first year, and perhaps be a forceful personality up to his twenty-first year. But unless he is able to develop spiritually, then, being very much a representative of the age, he will come to a halt at the age of 27. Now if he were to be truly representative of the age, something like the following would have to happen: At the age of 27 he would come to a key point in his life, to such effect that the circumstances he creates for himself at the age of 27, committing himself for life, would not allow him to progress beyond this. In modern life this could take the form, for instance, that such a person, a self-made man with tremendous energies and all kinds of impulses arising from the time itself, gets himself elected to parliament at the age of 27. To get oneself elected to parliament means one has committed oneself and there are some things that now have to be maintained. And so the individual remains as he is — which is entirely due to this development in the present age — and he is highly representative of the present age. Parliament being the great ideal in the present day and age, this would be a key point in the life of an individual, who would then refuse to accept anything capable of growth for the future and who would have become completely adapted to external circumstances or, in a word, remained 27 years of age. And so at the age of 27 this would be a strong, powerful individual imbued with the impulses of the age who now entered parliament. After some time he would even be a minister and advance to become one of the leading figures. But he would merely be a man of our time, a typical 27-year-old.

There is such an individual, someone born into such circumstances who only took in what came, nothing by way of tradition. He grew strong and powerful under these circumstances — someone who would go through thick and thin for anything that came to him in the first twenty-seven years of his life and who did, in fact, become a member of parliament at the age of 27. He was a thorn in the flesh at first, being in opposition, but soon rose further and has become a kind of axis of rotation at the present time — and this is Lloyd George. [ Note 5 ] No one is more characteristic of the present age than Lloyd George. ‘His own man’, he committed himself for life within a week of his twenty-seventh year by getting himself elected to the House of Commons. This and the rest of his life story show him to be a typical representative of life in the present age, a life we should not follow, for spiritual impulses should have taken over in the twenty-seventh year.

If one is able to penetrate the inner aspects of life one sees the most important events of the present time to be events to which other people are asleep. To anyone who can take a wider view it is immensely significant that such a self-made man is elected to the British Parliament exactly at the age of 27 and thus commits himself.

These are the realities which people must gradually learn to observe and consider, for they reveal the deeper connections in life. People like to skip over them today because they are not easy. Reluctance is felt because people prefer to give free rein to their passions, the emotions they create for themselves in the outer world, and to their instincts, rather than seek to gain insight. They want to live the life of the world, basing themselves on these emotions and not on their true selves.

Source: The Rudolf Steiner Archive

http://wn.rsarchive.org/Lectures/GA/GA0177/19170930p01.html