The Spiritual Foundation of Morality. Lecture 3 of 3.
Rudolf Steiner, May 30, 1912:
In the last lecture we found that moral impulses are
fundamental in human nature. From the facts adduced, we tried to prove that a
foundation of morality and goodness lies at the bottom of the human soul, and
that really it has only been in the course of evolution, in man's passage from
incarnation to incarnation, that he has diverged from the original instinctive
good foundation and that thereby what is evil, wrong, and unmoral has come into
humanity. But if this is so, we must really wonder that evil is possible, or
that it ever originated, and the question as to how evil became possible in the
course of evolution requires an answer. We can only obtain a satisfactory reply
by examining the elementary moral instruction given to man in ancient times.
The
pupils of the Mysteries whose highest ideal was gradually to penetrate to full
spiritual knowledge and truths were always obliged to work from a moral
foundation. In those places where they worked in the right way according to the
Mysteries, the peculiarity of man's moral nature was shown in a special way to
the pupils. Briefly, we may say: The pupils of the Mysteries were shown that
freewill can only be developed if a person is in a position to go wrong in one
of two directions; further, that life can only run its course truly and
favorably when these two lines of opposition are considered as being like the
two sides of a balance, of which first one side and then the other goes up and
down. True balance only exists when the crossbeam is horizontal. They were shown
that it is impossible to express man's right procedure by saying: this is right
and that is wrong. It is only possible to gain the true idea when the human
being, standing in the center of the balance, can be swayed each moment of his
life, now to one side, now to the other, but he himself holds the correct mean
between the two.
Let
us take the virtues of which we have spoken: first — valor, bravery. In this
respect human nature may diverge on one side to foolhardiness — that is,
unbridled activity in the world and the straining of the forces at one's
disposal to the utmost limit. Foolhardiness is one side; the opposite is
cowardice. A person may turn the scale in either of these directions. In the
Mysteries the pupils were shown that when a man degenerates into foolhardiness
he loses himself and lays aside his own individuality and is crushed by the
wheels of life. Life tears him in pieces if he errs in this direction; but if,
on the other hand, he errs on the side of cowardice, he hardens himself and
tears himself away from his connection with beings and objects. He then becomes
a being shut up within himself, who, as he cannot bring his deeds into harmony
with the whole, loses his connection with things. This was shown to the pupils
in respect to all that a man may do. He may degenerate in such a way that he is
torn in pieces, and losing his own individuality is crushed by the objective
world; on the other hand, he may degenerate not merely in courage, but also in
every other respect in such a way that he hardens within himself. Thus at the
head of the moral code in all the Mysteries there were written the significant
words: “Thou must find the mean,” so that through thy deeds thou must not lose
thyself in the world, and that the world also does not lose thee.
Those
are the two possible extremes into which man may fall. Either he may be lost to
the world — the world lays hold on him, and crushes him, as is the case in
foolhardiness — or the world may be lost to him, because he hardens himself in
his egoism, as is the case in cowardice. In the Mysteries, the pupils were told
that goodness cannot merely be striven for as goodness obtained once for all;
rather does goodness come only through man being continually able to strike out
in two directions like a pendulum and by his own inner power able to find the
balance, the mean between the two.
You
have in this all that will enable you to understand the freedom of the will and
the significance of reason and wisdom in human action. If it were fitting for
man to observe eternal moral principles he need only acquire these moral
principles and then he could go through life on a definite line of march, as it
were — but life is never like this. Freedom in life consists rather in man's
being always able to err in one direction or another. But in this way the
possibility of evil arises. For what is evil? It is that which originates when
the human being is either lost to the world, or the world is lost to him.
Goodness consists in avoiding both these extremes. In the course of evolution
evil became not only a possibility but an actuality; for as man journeyed from
incarnation to incarnation, by his turning now to one side and now to the other,
he could not always find the balance at once, and it was necessary for the
compensation to be karmically made at a future time. What man cannot attain in
one life, because he does not always find the mean at once, he will attain
gradually in the course of evolution in as much as man diverts his course to one
side, and is then obliged, perhaps in the next life, to strike out again in the
opposite direction, and thus bring about the balance.
What
I have just told you was a golden rule in the ancient Mysteries. We often find
among the ancient philosophers echoes of the principles taught in these
Mysteries. Aristotle makes a statement, when speaking of virtue, which we
cannot understand unless we know that what has just been said was an old
principle in the Mysteries which had been received by Aristotle as tradition and
embodied in his philosophy. He says: Virtue is a human capacity or skill guided
by reason and insight, which, as regards man, holds the balance between the too
much and the too little. Aristotle here gives a definition of virtue such as no
subsequent philosophy has attained. But as Aristotle had little tradition from
the Mysteries, it was possible for him to give the precise truth.
That
is, then, the mean, which must be found and followed if a man is really to be
virtuous, if moral power is to pulsate through the world. We can now answer the
question as to why morals should exist at all. For what happens when there is no
morality, when evil is done, and when the too-much or the too little takes
place, when man is lost to the world by being crushed, or when the world loses
him? In each of these cases something is always destroyed. Every evil or unmoral
act is a process of destruction, and the moment man sees that when he has done
wrong he cannot do otherwise than destroy something, take something from the
world, in that moment a mighty influence for good has awakened within him. It is
especially the task of spiritual science — which is really only just beginning
its work in the world — to show that all evil brings about a destructive
process, that it takes away from the world something which is necessary. When in
accordance with our anthroposophical standpoint we hold this principle, then
what we know about the nature of man leads us to a particular interpretation of
good and evil.
We
know that the sentient soul was chiefly developed in the old Chaldean or
Egyptian epoch, the third post-Atlantean age. The people of the present day have
but little notion what this epoch of development was like at that time, for in
external history one can reach little further back than to the Egyptian age. We
know that the intellectual soul, or mind soul, developed in the fourth or
Graeco-Latin age, and that now in our age we are developing the consciousness soul, or
spiritual soul. The spirit-self will only come into prominence in the sixth age
of post-Atlantean development.
Let
us now ask: How can the sentient soul turn to one side or the other, away from
what is right? The sentient soul is that quality in man which enables him to
perceive the objective world, to take it into himself, to take part in it, not
to pass through the world ignorant of all the diversified objects it contains,
but to go through the world in such a way that he forms a relationship with
them. All this is brought about by the sentient soul. We find one side to which
man can deviate with the sentient soul when we enquire: What makes it possible
for man to enter into relationship with the objective world? It is what may be
called interest in the different things, and by this word “interest” something
is expressed which in a moral sense is extremely important. It is much more
important that one should bear in mind the moral significance of interest than
that one should devote oneself to thousands of beautiful moral axioms, which may
be only paltry and hypocritical. Let it be clearly understood that our moral
impulses are in fact never better guided than when we take a proper interest in
objects and beings. In our last lecture we spoke in a deeper sense of love as an
impulse, and in such a way that we cannot now be misunderstood if we say that the
usual, oft-repeated declamation “love, love, and again love” cannot replace the
moral impulse contained in what may be described by the word interest.
Let
us suppose that we have a child before us. What is the condition primary to our
devotion to this child? What is the first condition to our educating the child?
It is that we take an interest in it. There is something unhealthy or abnormal
in the human soul if a person withdraws himself from something in which he takes
an interest. It will more and more be recognized that the impulse of interest is
a quite specially golden impulse in the moral sense the further we advance to
the actual foundations of morality and do not stop at the mere preaching of
morals. Our inner powers are also called forth as regards mankind when we extend
our interests, when we are able to transpose ourselves with understanding into
beings and objects.
Even
sympathy is awakened in the right manner if we take an interest in a being; and
if, as anthroposophists, we set ourselves the task of extending our interests
more and more and of widening our mental horizon, this will promote the
universal brotherhood of mankind. Progress is not gained by the mere preaching
of universal love, but by the extension of our interests further and further, so
that we come to interest ourselves increasingly in souls with widely different
characters, racial and national peculiarities, with widely different
temperaments, and holding widely differing religious and philosophical views,
and approach them with understanding. Right interest, right understanding, calls
forth from the soul the right moral action.
Here
also we must hold the balance between two extremes. One extreme is apathy, which
passes everything by and occasions immense moral mischief in the world. An
apathetic person only lives in himself, obstinately insisting on his own
principles, and saying: This is my standpoint. In a moral sense this insistence
upon a standpoint is always bad. The essential thing is for us to have an open
mind for all that surrounds us. Apathy separates us from the world, while
interest unites us with it. The world loses us through our apathy: in this
direction we become unmoral. Thus we see that apathy and lack of interest in the
world are morally evil in the highest degree.
Anthroposophy is something which makes the mind ever more active,
helps us to think with greater readiness of what is spiritual and to take it
into ourselves. Just as it is true that warmth comes from the fire when we light
a stove, so it is true that interest in humanity and the world comes when we
study spiritual science. Wisdom is the fuel for interest, and we may say,
although this may perhaps not be evident without further explanation, that
Anthroposophy arouses this interest in us when we study those more remote
subjects: the teachings concerning the evolutionary stages through Saturn, Sun,
and Moon; the meaning of karma; and so on. It really comes about that
interest is produced as the result of anthroposophical knowledge, while from
materialistic knowledge comes something which in a radical manner must be
described as apathy and which, if it alone were to hold sway in the world,
would, of necessity, do untold harm.
See
how many people go through the world and meet this or that person, but really do
not get to know him, for they are quite shut up in themselves. How often do we
find that two people have been friends for a long time and then suddenly there
comes a rupture. This is because the friendship had a materialistic foundation
and only after the lapse of time did they discover that they were mutually
unsympathetic. At the present time very few people have the “hearing” ear for
that which speaks from man to man; but Anthroposophy should bring about an
expansion of our perceptions, so that we shall gain a “seeing” eye and an open
mind for all that is human around us and so we shall not go through the world
apathetically, but with true interest.
We
also avoid the other extreme by distinguishing between true and false interests,
and thus observe the happy mean. Immediately to throw oneself, as it were, into
the arms of each person we meet is to lose oneself passionately in the person;
that is not true interest. If we do this, we lose ourselves to the world.
Through apathy the world loses us; through uncontrolled passion we lose
ourselves to the world. But through healthy, devoted interest we stand morally
firm in the center, in the state of balance.
In
the third post-Atlantean age of civilization, that is, in the Chaldaic-Egyptian
age, there still existed in a large part of humanity on Earth a certain power to
hold the balance between apathy and the passionate intoxicating devotion to the
world; and it is this which in ancient times, and also by Plato and Aristotle,
was called wisdom. But people looked upon this wisdom as the gift of superhuman
beings, for up to that time the ancient impulses of wisdom were active.
Therefore, from this point of view, especially relating to moral impulses, we
may call the third post-Atlantean age the age of instinctive wisdom. You will
perceive the truth of what was said last year, though with a different
intention, in the Copenhagen lectures on The Spiritual Guidance of Man and
Mankind. In those lectures we showed how, in the third post-Atlantean age,
mankind still stood nearer to the divine spiritual powers. And that which drew
mankind closer to the divine spiritual powers was instinctive wisdom.
Thus
it was a gift of the gods to find at that time the happy mean in action, between
apathy and sensuous passionate devotion. This balance, this equilibrium, was at
that time still maintained through external institutions. The complete
intermingling of humanity which came about in the fourth age of post-Atlantean
development through the migrations of various peoples did not yet exist.
Mankind was still divided into smaller peoples and tribes. Their interests were
wisely regulated by nature, and were so far active that the right moral impulses
could penetrate; and on the other hand, through the existence of blood
kinsmanship in the tribe, an obstacle was placed in the way of passion. Even
today one cannot fail to observe that it is easiest to show interest within
blood-relationship and common descent, but in this there is not what is called
sensuous passion. As people were gathered together in relatively small tracts of
country in the Egypto-Chaldaic age, the wise and happy mean was easily
found.
But
the idea of the progressive development of humanity is that that which
originally was instinctive, which was only spiritual, shall gradually disappear
and that man shall become independent of the divine spiritual powers. Hence we
see that even in the fourth post-Atlantean age, the Graeco-Latin age, not only
the philosophers Plato and Aristotle, but also public opinion in Greece,
considered wisdom as something which must be gained, as something which is no
longer the gift of the gods, but after which man must strive. According to
Plato, the first virtue is wisdom, and according to him, he who does not strive
after wisdom is unmoral.
We
are now in the fifth post-Atlantean age. We are still far from the time when the
wisdom instinctively implanted in humanity as a divine impulse will be raised
into consciousness. Hence in our age people are specially liable to err in both
the directions we have mentioned, and it is therefore particularly necessary
that the great dangers to be found at this point should be counteracted by a
spiritual conception of the world, so that what man once possessed as
instinctive wisdom may now become conscious wisdom. The Anthroposophical
Movement is to contribute to this end.
The
gods once gave wisdom to the unconscious human soul, so that it possessed this
wisdom instinctively, whereas now we have first to learn the truths about the
cosmos and about human evolution. The ancient customs were also fashioned after
the thoughts of the gods.
We
have the right view of Anthroposophy when we look upon it as the investigations
of the thoughts of the gods. In former times these flowed instinctively into
man, but now we have to investigate them, to make the knowledge of them our own.
In this sense Anthroposophy must be sacred to us; we must be able to consider
reverently that the ideas imparted to us are really something divine, and
something which we human beings are allowed to think and reflect upon as the
divine thoughts according to which the world has been ordered. When
Anthroposophy stands in this aspect to us we can then consider the knowledge it
imparts in such a way that we understand that it has been given us so as to
enable us to fulfill our mission. Mighty truths are made known to us when we
study what has been imparted concerning the evolutions of Saturn, Sun, and Moon,
concerning reincarnation, and the development of the various races, etc. But we
only assume the right attitude toward it when we say: The thoughts we seek are
the thoughts wherewith the gods have guided evolution. We think the evolution of
the gods. If we understand this correctly we are overwhelmed by something that
is deeply moral. This is inevitable. Then we say: In ancient times man had
instinctive wisdom from the gods, who gave him the wisdom according to which
they fashioned the world, and morality thus became possible. But through
Anthroposophy we now acquire this wisdom consciously. Therefore we may also
trust that in us it shall be transformed into moral impulses, so that we do not
merely receive anthroposophical wisdom, but a moral stimulus as well.
Now,
into what sort of moral impulses will the wisdom acquired through Anthroposophy
be transformed? We must here touch upon a point whose development the
anthroposophist can foresee, the profound moral significance and moral weight of
which he even ought to foresee, a point of development which is far removed from
what is customary at the present time, which is what Plato called the “ideal of
wisdom.” He named it with a word which was in common use when man still
possessed the ancient wisdom, and it would be well to replace this by the word
veracity, for as we have now become more individual, we have withdrawn
ourselves from the divine, and must therefore strive back to it. We must learn
to feel the full weight and meaning of the word ‘veracity’, and this in a moral
sense will be a result of an anthroposophical world conception and conviction.
Anthroposophists must understand how important it is to be filled with the moral
element of truth in an age when materialism has advanced so far that one may
indeed still speak of truth, but when the general life and understanding is far
removed from perceiving what is right in this direction. Nor can this be
otherwise at the present time, as owing to a certain quality acquired by modern
life, truth is something which must, to a great extent, be lacking in the
understanding of the day, I ask what does a man feel today when in the
newspapers or some other printed matter he finds certain information, and
afterwards it transpires that it is simply untrue? I seriously ask you to ponder
over this. One cannot say that it happens in every case, but one must assert
that it probably happens in every fourth case. Untruthfulness has everywhere
become a quality of the age; it is impossible to describe truth as a
characteristic of our times.
For
instance, take a man whom you know to have written or said something false, and
place the facts before him. As a rule, you will find that he does not fear such
a thing to be wrong. He will immediately make the excuse: “But I said it in good
faith.” Anthroposophists must not consider it moral when a person says that what he said in good faith is merely incorrect . People will learn to understand
more and more that they must first ascertain that what they assert really
happened. No man should make a statement or impart anything to another until he
has exhausted every means to ascertain the truth of his assertions; and it is
only when he recognizes this obligation that he can perceive veracity as moral
impulse. And then when someone has either written or said something that is
incorrect, he will no longer say “I thought it was so; I said it in good faith,”
for he will learn that it is his duty to express not merely what he thinks is
right, but it is also his duty to say only what is true and correct. To this
end, a radical change must gradually come about in our cultural life. The speed
of travel, the lust of sensation on the part of man, everything that comes with
a materialistic age, is opposed to truth. In the sphere of morality,
Anthroposophy will be an educator of humanity to the duty of truth.
My
business today is not to say how far truth has been already realized in the
Anthroposophical Society, but to show that what I have said must be a principle,
a lofty anthroposophical ideal. The moral evolution within the movement will
have enough to do if the moral ideal of truth is thought, felt, and perceived in
all directions, for this ideal must be what produces the virtue of the
sentient soul of man in the right way.
The
second part of the soul of which we have to speak in Anthroposophy is what we
usually call the mind soul, or intellectual soul [German: Gemütsseele].
You know that it developed especially in the fourth post-Atlantean, or
Graeco-Latin, age. The virtue which is the particular emblem for this part of the
soul is bravery, valor, and courage; we have already dwelt on this many times,
and also on the fact that foolhardiness and cowardice are its extremes. Courage,
bravery, valor is the mean between foolhardiness and cowardice. The German word
“gemüt” expresses in the sound of the word that it is related to this. The word
“gemüt” indicates the mid-part of the human soul, the part that is “mutvoll,”
full of “mut”: courage, strength, and force.
This
was the second virture, the middle virtue, of Plato and Aristotle. It is that virtue
which in the fourth post-Atlantean age still existed in man as a divine gift,
while wisdom was really only instinctive in the third. Instinctive valor and
bravery existed as a gift of the gods (you may gather this from the first
lecture) among the people who, in the fourth age, met the expansion of
Christianity to the north. They showed that among them valor was still a gift
of the gods. Among the Chaldeans wisdom, the wise penetration into the secrets
of the starry world, existed as a divine gift, as something inspired. Among the
people of the fourth post-Atlantean age there existed valor and bravery,
especially among the Greeks and Romans, but it existed also among the peoples
whose work it became to spread Christianity. This instinctive valor was lost
later than instinctive wisdom.
If we
look around us now in the fifth post-Atlantean age we see that, as regards
valor and bravery, we are in the same position in respect of the Greeks as the
Greeks were to the Chaldeans and Egyptians in regard to wisdom. We look back to
what was a divine gift in the age immediately preceding ours, and in a certain
way we can strive for it again. However, the two previous lectures have shown
us that in connection with this effort a certain transformation must take
place. We have seen the transformation in Francis of Assisi of that divine gift
which manifested itself as bravery and valor. We saw that the transformation
came about as the result of an inner moral force which in our last lecture we
found to be the force of the Christ impulse: the transformation of valor and
bravery into true love. But this true love must be guided by another virtue, by
the interest in the being to whom we turn our love. In his Timon of
Athens Shakespeare shows how love, or warmth of heart, causes harm when it
is passionately manifested, when it appears merely as a quality of human nature
without being guided by wisdom and truth. A man is described who gave freely of
his possessions, who squandered his living in all directions. Liberality is a
virtue, but Shakespeare also shows us that nothing but parasites are produced by
what is squandered.
Just
as ancient valor and bravery were guided from the Mysteries by the European
Brahmins — those wise leaders who kept themselves hidden in the background — so
also in human nature this virtue must accord with and be guided by interest.
Interest, which connects us with the external world in the right way, must lead
and guide us when, with our love, we turn to the world. Fundamentally this may
be seen from the characteristic and striking example of Francis of Assisi. The
sympathy he expressed was not obtrusive or offensive. Those who overwhelm others
with their sympathy are by no means always actuated by the right moral impulses.
And how many there are who will not receive anything that is given out of pity.
But to approach another with understanding is not offensive. Under some
circumstances a person must needs refuse to be sympathized with; but the attempt
to understand his nature is something to which no reasonable person can object.
Hence also the attitude of another person cannot be blamed or condemned if his
actions are determined by this principle.
It is
understanding which can guide us with respect to this second virtue: Love. It is
that which, through the Christ impulse, has become the special virtue of the
mind soul or intellectual soul; it is the virtue which may be described as human
love accompanied by human understanding. Sympathy in grief and joy is the virtue
which in the future must produce the most beautiful and glorious fruits in human
social life, and in one who rightly understands the Christ impulse, this
sympathy and this love will originate quite naturally, it will develop into
feeling. It is precisely through the anthroposophical understanding of the
Christ impulse that it will become feeling.
Through the Mystery of Golgotha Christ descended into earthly
evolution; His impulses, His activities, are here now, they are everywhere. Why
did He descend to this Earth? In order that through what He has to give to the
world, evolution may go forward in the right way. Now that the Christ impulse is
in the world, if through what is unmoral, if through lack of interest in our
fellow-men, we destroy something, then we take away a portion of the world into
which the Christ impulse has flowed. Thus because the Christ impulse is now
here, we directly destroy something of it. But if we give to the world what can
be given to it through virtue, which is creative, we build. We build through
self-surrender. It is not without reason that it has often been said that
Christ was first crucified on Golgotha, but that He is crucified again and again
through the deeds of man. Since Christ has entered into the Earth development
through the deed upon Golgotha, we, by our unmoral deeds, by our unkindness and
lack of interest, add to the sorrow and pain inflicted upon Him. Therefore it
has been said, again and again: Christ is crucified anew as long as unmorality,
unkindness, and lack of interest exist. Since the Christ impulse has permeated
the world, it is this which is made to suffer.
Just
as it is true that through evil, which is destructive, we withdraw something
from the Christ impulse and continue the crucifixion upon Golgotha, it is also
true that when we act out of love, in all cases where we use love, we add to the
Christ impulse, we help to bring it to life. “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto
one of the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me” (Matthew 25:40) — this is the most significant statement of love, and this statement must
become the most profound moral impulse if it is once anthroposophically
understood. We do this when with understanding we confront our fellow-men and
offer them something in our actions, our virtue, our conduct toward them which
is conditioned by our understanding of their nature. Our attitude toward our
fellow-men is our attitude toward the Christ impulse itself.
It is
a powerful moral impulse, something which is a real foundation for morals, when
we feel: “The Mystery of Golgotha was accomplished for all men, and an impulse
has thence spread abroad throughout the whole world. When you are dealing with
your fellow-men, try to understand them in their special characteristics of
race, color, nationality, religious faith, philosophy, etc. If you meet them
and do this or that to them, you do it to Christ. Whatever you do to men, in the
present condition of the Earth's evolution, you do to Christ.” This statement:
“What ye have done to one of My brothers, ye have done unto Me,” will at the
same time become a mighty moral impulse to the man who understands the
fundamental significance of the Mystery of Golgotha. So that we may say: Whereas
the gods of pre-Christian times gave instinctive wisdom to man, instinctive
valor and bravery, so love streams down from the symbol of the cross, the love
which is based upon the mutual interest of man in man.
Thereby the Christ impulse will work powerfully in the world. On
the day when it comes about that the Brahmin not only loves and understands the
Brahmin, the Pariah the Pariah, the Jew the Jew, and the Christian the
Christian; but when the Jew is able to understand the Christian, the Pariah the
Brahmin, the American the Asiatic, as man, and put himself in his place, then
one will know how deeply it is felt in a Christian way when we say: “All men
must feel themselves to be brothers, no matter what their religious creed may
be.” We ought to consider what otherwise binds us as being of little value.
Father, mother, brother, sister, even one's own life one ought to esteem less
than that which speaks from one human soul to the other. He who in this sense
does not regard as base all that impairs the connection with the Christ impulse
cannot be Christ's disciple. The Christ impulse balances and compensates human
differences. Christ's disciple is one who regards mere human distinctions as
being of little account, and clings to the impulse of love streaming forth from
the Mystery of Golgotha, which in this respect we perceive as a renewal of what
was given to mankind as original virtue.
We
have now but to consider what may be spoken of as the virtue of the
consciousness soul, or the spiritual soul. When we consider the fourth post-Atlantean
age, we find that Temperance or Moderation was still instinctive. Plato and
Aristotle called it the chief virtue of the spiritual soul. Again they
comprehended it as a state of balance, as the mean of what exists in the
spiritual soul. The spiritual soul consists in man's becoming conscious of the
external world through his bodily nature. The sense body is primarily the
instrument of the spiritual soul, and it is also the sense body through which
man arrives at self-consciousness.
Therefore the sense body of man must be preserved. If it were not
preserved for the mission of the Earth, then that mission could not be
fulfilled. But here also there is a limit. If a man only used all the forces he
possessed in order to enjoy himself, he would shut himself up in himself, and
the world would lose him. The man who merely enjoys himself, who uses all his
forces merely to give himself pleasure, cuts himself off from the world — so
thought Plato and Aristotle — the world loses him. And he who denies himself
everything renders himself weaker and weaker, and is finally laid hold of by the
external world process, and is crushed by the outer world. For he who goes
beyond the forces appropriate to him as man, he who goes to excess, is laid hold
of by the world process and is lost in it.
Thus
what man has developed for the building up of the spiritual soul can be
dissolved, so that he comes into the position of losing the world. Temperance or
Moderation is the virtue which enables man to avoid these extremes. Temperance
implies neither asceticism nor gluttony, but the happy mean between these two;
and this is the virtue of the spiritual soul. Regarding this virtue we have not
yet progressed beyond the instinctive standpoint. A little reflection will teach
you that, on the whole, people are very much given to sampling the two extremes.
They swing to and fro between them. Leaving out of account the few who at the
present day endeavor to gain clear views on this subject, you will find that
the majority of people live very much after a particular pattern. In Central
Europe this is often described by saying: There are people in Berlin who eat and
drink to excess the entire winter, and then in summer they go to Carlsbad in
order to remove the ill-effects produced by months of intemperance, thus going
from one extreme to the other. Here you have the weighing of the scale, first to
one side and then to the other. This is only a radical case. It is very evident
that though the foregoing is extreme, and not universal to any great extent,
still the oscillation between enjoyment and deprivation exists everywhere.
People themselves ensure that there is excess on one side, and then they get the
physicians to prescribe a so-called lowering system of cure, that is, the other
extreme, in order that the ill effects may be repaired.
From
this it will be seen that in this respect people are still in an instinctive
condition, that there is still an instinctive feeling, which is a kind of divine
gift, not to go too far in one direction or another. But just as the other
instinctive qualities of man were lost, these, too, will be lost with the
transition from the fifth to the sixth post-Atlantean age. This quality which is
still possessed as a natural tendency will be lost; and now you will be able to
judge how much the anthroposophical world conception and conviction will have to
contribute in order gradually to develop consciousness in this field.
At
the present time there are very few — even including developed anthroposophists — who see
clearly that Anthroposophy provides the means to gain the right consciousness in
this field also. When Anthroposophy is able to bring more weight to bear in this
direction, then will appear what I can only describe in the following way:
people will gradually long more and more for great spiritual truths. Although
Anthroposophy is still scorned today, it will not always be so. It will spread,
and overcome all its external opponents, and everything else still opposing it,
and anthroposophists will not be satisfied by merely preaching universal love.
It will be understood that one cannot acquire Anthroposophy in one day, any more
than a person can take sufficient nourishment in one day to last the whole of
his life. Anthroposophy has to be acquired to an ever increasing extent. It will
come to pass that in the Anthroposophical Movement it will not be so often
stated that "These are our principles, and if we have these principles then we
are anthroposophists" — for the feeling and experience of standing in a community
of the living element in anthroposophy will extend more and more.
Moreover, let us consider what happens by people mentally working
upon the particular thoughts, the particular feelings and impulses which come
from anthroposophical wisdom. We all know that anthroposophists can never have a
materialistic view of the world; they have exactly the opposite. But he who says
the following is a materialistic thinker: “When one thinks, a movement of the
molecules or atoms of the brain takes place, and it is because of this movement
that one has thought. Thought proceeds from the brain somewhat like a thin
smoke, or it is something like the flame from a candle.” Such is the
materialistic view. The anthroposophical view is the opposite. In the latter it
is the thought, the experience in the soul, which sets the brain and nervous
system in motion. The way in which our brain moves depends upon what thoughts we
think. This is exactly the opposite of what is said by the materialist. If you
wish to know how the brain of a person is constituted, you must inquire into
what thoughts he has, for just as the printed characters of a book are nothing
else than the consequence of thoughts, so the movements of the brain are nothing
else than the consequence of thoughts.
Must
we not then say that the brain will be differently affected when it is filled
with anthroposophical thoughts than it will be in a society which plays cards?
Different processes are at work in your minds when you follow anthroposophical
thoughts from when you are in a company of card players, or see the pictures in
a movie theatre. In the human organism nothing is isolated or stands alone.
Everything is connected; one part acts and reacts on another. Thoughts act upon
the brain and nervous system, and the latter is connected with the whole
organism, and although many people may not yet be aware of it, when the
hereditary characteristics still hidden in the body are conquered, the following
will come about. The thoughts will be communicated from the brain to the
stomach, and the result will be that things that are pleasant to people's taste
today will no longer taste good to those who have received anthroposophical
thoughts. The thoughts which anthroposophists have received are divine thoughts.
They act upon the whole organism in such a manner that it will prefer to taste
what is good for it. Man will smell and perceive as unsympathetic what does not
suit him — a peculiar perspective, one which may perhaps be called
materialistic, but is exactly the reverse.
This
kind of appetite will come as a consequence of anthroposophical work; you will
like one thing and prefer it at meals, dislike another and not wish to eat it.
You may judge for yourselves when you notice that perhaps you now have an
aversion to things, which before your anthroposophical days you did not possess.
This will become more and more general when man works selflessly at his higher
development, so that the world may receive what is right from him. One must not,
however, play fast-and-loose with the words “selflessness” and “egoism.” These
words may very easily be misused. It is not altogether selfless when someone
says: “I shall only be active in the world and for the world; what does it
matter about my own spiritual development? I shall only work, not strive
egoistically!” It is not egoism when a person undergoes a higher development,
because he thus fits himself more fully to bear an active part in the
furtherance of the world development. If a person neglects his own further
development, he renders himself useless to the world, he withdraws his force
from it. We must do the right thing in this respect as well, in order to develop
in ourselves what the Deity had in view for us.
Thus,
through Anthroposophy a human race — or rather, a nucleus of humanity — will be
developed, which perceives temperance as a guiding ideal not merely
instinctively, but which has a conscious sympathy for what makes man in a worthy
way into a useful part of the divine world-order, and a conscious disinclination
for all that mars man as a part in the universal order.
Thus
we see that also in that which is produced in man himself there are moral
impulses, and we find what we may call life-wisdom or practical wisdom as
transformed temperance. The ideal of practical wisdom which is to be taken into
consideration for the next, the sixth post-Atlantean age, will be the ideal
virtue which Plato calls “justice.” That is: the harmonious accord of these
virtues. As in humanity the virtues have altered to some extent, so what was
looked upon as justice in pre-Christian times has also changed. A single virtue
such as this, which harmonises the others did not exist at that time. The
harmony of the virtues stood before the mental vision of humanity as an ideal of
the most distant future. We have seen that the moral impulse of bravery has been
changed to love. We have also seen that wisdom has become truth. To begin with,
truth is a virtue which places man in a just and worthy manner in external life.
But if we wish to arrive at truthfulness regarding spiritual things, how then
can we arrange it in relation to those things? We acquire truthfulness, we gain
the virtue of the Sentient-Soul through a right and appropriate interest,
through right understanding. Now what is this interest with regard to the
spiritual world? If we wish to bring the physical world and especially man
before us, we must open ourselves towards him, we must have a seeing eye for his
nature. How do we obtain this seeing-eye with reference to the spiritual world?
We gain it by developing a particular kind of feeling, that which appeared at a
time when the old instinctive wisdom had sunk into the depths of the soul's
life. This type of feeling was often described by the Greeks in the words: “All
philosophical thought begins with wonder.” Something essentially moral is said
when we say that our relationship to the supersensible world begins with wonder.
The savage, uncultivated human being, is but little affected by the great
phenomena of the world. It is through mental development that man comes to find
riddles in the phenomena of everyday life, and to perceive that there is
something spiritual at the back of them. It is wonder that directs our souls up
to the spiritual sphere in order that we may penetrate to the knowledge of that
world; and we can only arrive at this knowledge when our soul is attracted by
the phenomena which it is possible to investigate. It is this attraction which
give rise to wonder, astonishment and faith. It is always wonder and amazement
which direct us to what is supersensible, and at the same time, it is what one
usually describes as faith. Faith, wonder and amazement are the three forces of
the soul which lead us beyond the ordinary world.
When
we contemplate man with wonder and amazement, we try to understand him; by
understanding his nature we attain to the virtue of brotherhood, and we shall
best realise this by approaching the human being with reverence. We shall then
see that reverence becomes something with which we must approach every human
being and if we have this attitude, we shall become more and more truthful.
Truth will become something by which we shall be bound by duty. Once we have an
inkling of it, the supersensible world becomes something towards which we
incline, and through knowledge we shall attain to the supersensible wisdom which
has already sunk into the subconscious depths of the soul. Only after
supersensible wisdom had disappeared do we find the statement that “philosophy
begins with wonder and amazement.” This statement will make it clear that wonder
only appeared in evolution in the age when the Christ-impulse had come into the
world.
It
has already been stated that the second virtue is love. Let us now consider what
we have described as instinctive temperance for the present time, and as
practical wisdom of life for the future. Man confronts himself in these virtues.
Through the deeds he performs in the world, he acts in such a way that he guards
himself, as it were; it is therefore necessary for him to gain an objective
standard of value.
We
now see something appear which develops more and more, and which I have often
spoken of in other connections, something which first appeared in the fourth
post-Atlantean age, namely the Greek. It can be shown that in the old Greek
dramas, for instance in Aeschylus, the Furies play a role which in Euripides is
transformed into conscience. From this we see that in earlier times what we call
conscience did not exist at all. Conscience is something that exists as a
standard for our own actions when we go too far in our demands, when we seek our
own advantage too much. It acts as a standard placed between our sympathies and
antipathies.
With
this we attain to something which is more objective, which, compared with the
virtues of truth, love, and practical wisdom, acts in a much more objective or
outward manner. Love here stands in the middle, and acts as something which has
to fill and regulate all life, also all social life. In the same way it acts as
the regulator of all that man has developed as inner impulse. But that which he
has developed as truth will manifest itself as the belief in supersensible
knowledge. Life-wisdom, that which originates in ourselves, we must feel as a
divine spiritual regulator which, like conscience, leads securely along the true
middle course. If we had time it would be very easy to answer the various
objections which might be raised at this point. But we shall only consider one,
for example, the objection to the assertion that conscience and wonder are
qualities which have only gradually developed in humanity, whereas they are
really eternal. But this they are not. He who says that they are eternal
qualities in human nature only shows that he does not know the conditions
attached to them.
As
time goes on it will be found more and more that in ancient times man had not as
yet descended so far to the physical plane, but was still more closely connected
with divine impulses, and that he was in a condition which he will again
consciously strive to reach when he is ruled more by truth, love, and the art of
life in regard to the physical plane, and when in regard to spiritual knowledge
he is actuated by faith in the supersensible world. It is not necessarily the
case that faith will directly lead into that world, but it will at length be
transformed into supersensible knowledge. Conscience is that which will enter as
a regulator in the consciousness soul or spiritual soul. Faith, love, conscience:
these three forces will become the three stars of the moral forces which shall
enter into human souls particularly through Anthroposophy. The moral perspective
of the future can only be disclosed to those who think of these three virtues
being ever more increased. Anthroposophy will place moral life in the light of
these virtues, and they will be the constructive forces of the future.
Before closing our observations, there is one point which must be
considered. I shall only touch upon the subject, for it would be impossible to
analyze without giving many lectures. The Christ impulse entered human evolution
through the Mystery of Golgotha. We know that at that time a human organism
consisting of physical, etheric, and astral bodies received the ego impulse or
“I” from above, as the Christ impulse. It was this Christ impulse which was
received by the Earth and which flowed into earthly evolution. It was now in it
as the ego of Christ. We know further that the physical body, etheric body, and
astral body remained with Jesus of Nazareth; the Christ impulse was within as
the ego. At Golgotha, Jesus of Nazareth separated from the Christ impulse, which
then flowed into the Earth development. The evolution of this impulse signifies
the evolution of the Earth itself.
Earnestly consider certain things which are very often repeated in
order that they may be more easily understood. As we have often heard, the world
is maya or illusion, but man must gradually penetrate to the truth, the reality,
of this external world. The Earth evolution fundamentally consists in the fact
that all the external things which have been formed in the first half of the
Earth's development are dissolved in the second half, in which we now are, so
that all that we see externally, physically, shall separate from human
development, just as the physical body of a human being falls away. One might
ask: What will then be left? And the answer is: The forces which are embodied in
man as real forces through the process of the development of humanity on the
Earth. And the most real impulse in this development is that which has come into
Earth evolution through the Christ impulse. But this Christ impulse at first
finds nothing with which it can clothe itself. Therefore it has to obtain a
covering through the further development of the Earth; and when this is
concluded, the fully developed Christ shall be the final man — as Adam was the
first — around whom humanity in its multiplicity has grouped itself.
In
the words “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My
brethren, ye have done it unto Me” is contained a significant hint for us. What
has been done for Christ? The actions performed in accordance with the
Christ impulse under the influence of conscience, under the influence of faith,
and according to knowledge, are developed out on the Earth-life up to the
present time, and as through his actions and his moral attitude a person gives
something to his brethren, he gives at the same time to Christ. This should be
taken as a precept: All the forces we develop, all acts of faith and trust, all
acts performed as the result of wonder, are — because we give it at the same
time to the Christ ego — something which closes like a covering around the Christ
and may be compared with the astral body of man.
We
form the astral body for the Christ ego impulse by all the moral activities of
wonder, trust, reverence, and faith — in short, all that paves the way to
supersensible knowledge. Through all these activities we foster love. This is
quite in accordance with the statement we quoted: “What ye have done to one of
the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me.”
We
form the etheric body for Christ through our deeds of love; and through our
actions in the world which we do through the impulses of conscience we form for
the Christ impulse that which corresponds to the physical body of man. When the
Earth has one day reached its goal, when man understands the right moral
impulses through which all that is good is done, then that
which came as an ego or “I” into human development through the Mystery of
Golgotha as the Christ impulse shall be enveloped by an astral body which
is formed through faith, through all the deeds of wonder and amazement on the
part of man. It shall be enveloped by something which is like an etheric body
which is formed through deeds of love; and by something which envelops it like a
physical body, formed through the deeds of conscience.
Thus
the future evolution of humanity shall be accomplished through the cooperation
of the moral impulses of man with the Christ impulse. We see humanity in
perspective before us, like a great organic structure. When people understand
how to member their actions into this great organism, and through their own
deeds form their impulses around it like a covering, they shall then lay the
foundations, in the course of earthly evolution, for a great community, which
can be permeated and made Christian through and through by the
Christ impulse.
Thus
we see that morals need not be preached, but they can indeed be founded by
showing facts that have really happened and do still happen, confirming what is
felt by persons with special mental endowments. It should make a noteworthy
impression upon us if we bear in mind how, at the time when he lost his friend
Duke Charles Augustus, Goethe wrote many things in a long letter at Weimar, and
then on the same day — it was in the year 1828, three-and-a-half years before
his own death, and almost at the end of his life — he wrote a very remarkable
sentence in his diary: “The whole reasonable world may be considered as a great
immortal individual which uninterruptedly brings about what is necessary and
thereby makes itself master even over chance.” How could such a thought become
more concrete than by our imagining this Individual active among us, and by
thinking of ourselves as being united with him in his work? Through the Mystery
of Golgotha the greatest Individual entered into human development, and when
people intentionally direct their lives in the way we have just described, they
will range themselves around the Christ impulse, so that around this Being there
shall be formed something which is like a covering around a kernel.
Much
more could be said about virtue from the standpoint of Anthroposophy. In
particular long and important considerations could be entered into concerning
truth and its connection with karma, for through Anthroposophy the idea of karma
will have to enter into human evolution more and more. Man will also have to
learn gradually so to consider and order his life that his virtues correspond
with karma. Through the idea of karma man must also learn to recognize that he
may not disown his former deeds by his later ones. A certain feeling of
responsibility in life, a readiness to take upon ourselves the results of what
we have done, has yet to show itself as a result of human evolution. How far
removed man still is from this ideal we see when we consider him more closely.
That man develops by the acts he has committed is a well-known fact. When the
consequences of an action seem to have come to an end, then what could only be
done if the first act had not taken place, can still be done. The fact that a
person feels responsible for what he has done, the fact that he consciously
accepts the idea of karma, is something which might also be a subject for study.
But you will still find much for yourselves by following the lines suggested in
these three lectures; you will find how fruitful these ideas can be if you work
them out further. As man will live for the remainder of the Earth development in
repeated incarnations, it is his task to rectify all the mistakes made
respecting the virtues described, by inclining to one side or the other, to
change them by shaping them of his own free will, so that the balance, the mean,
may come and thus the goal be gradually attained which has been described as the
formation of the coverings for the Christ impulse.
Thus
we see before us not merely an abstract ideal of universal brotherhood, which
indeed may also receive a strong impulse if we lay Anthroposophy at the
foundation, but we see that there is something real in our earthly evolution, we
see that there is in it an Impulse which came into the world through the Mystery
of Golgotha. And we also feel ourselves under the necessity so to work upon the
sentient soul, the intellectual soul, and the spiritual soul, that this ideal
Being shall be actualized, and that we shall be united with Him as with a great
immortal Individual. The thought that the only possibility of further evolution,
the power to fulfill the Earth mission, lies in man's forming one whole with this
great Individual, is realized in the second moral principle: What you do as if
it were born from you alone, pushes you away and separates you from the great
Individual, you thereby destroy something; but what you do to build up this
great immortal Individual in the way above described, that you do toward the
further development, the progressive life, of the whole organism of the
world.
We
only require to place these two thoughts before us in order to see that their
effect is not only to preach morals, but to give them a basis. For the thought
“Through your actions you are destroying what you ought to build up” is
terrible and fearful, keeping down all opposing desires. But the thought “You
are building up this immortal Individual; you are making yourself into a member
of this immortal Individual” fires one to good deeds, to strong moral impulses.
In this way morals are not only preached, but we are led to thoughts which
themselves may be moral impulses, to thoughts which are able to found
morals.
The
more the truth is cultivated, the more rapidly will the anthroposophical world
conception and feeling develop ethics such as these. And it has been my task to
express this in these lectures. Naturally, many things have only been lightly
touched upon, but you will develop further in your own minds many ideas which
have been broached. In this way we shall be drawn more closely together all over
the Earth. When we meet together — as we have done on this occasion as
anthroposophists of Northern and Central Europe — to consider these subjects,
and when we allow the thoughts roused in us at gatherings such as this to echo
and re-echo through us, we shall in this way best make it true that
Anthroposophy is to provide the foundation — even at the present time — for real
spiritual life. And when we have to part again we know that it is in our
anthroposophical thoughts that we are most at one, and this knowledge is at the
same time a moral stimulus. To know that we are united by the same ideals with
people who, as a rule, are widely separated from one another in space, but with
whom we may meet on special occasions, is a stronger moral stimulus than being
always together.
That
we should think in this way of our gathering, that we should thus understand our
studies together, fills my soul, especially at the close of these lectures, as
something by which I should like to express my farewell greeting to you, and
concerning which I am convinced that, when it is understood in the true light,
the anthroposophical life which is developing will also be spiritually well
founded. With this thought and these feelings let us close our studies
today.
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