Lecture One
It
is by pointing to all-embracing secrets of cosmic existence
that anthroposophical wisdom penetrates most deeply into the
foundations of human life, for man is the microcosm in which
all these secrets of the Universe are concentrated. The
illumination coming from this vista of the Cosmos extends not
only into the days but into the very hours of man's life in
that it sheds light upon his karma, upon all the things that at
every moment closely concern him. And so in these lectures I
shall speak from many different angles of the anthroposophical
basis of those ideas and conceptions which enable karma in
human life to be more clearly recognised.
In
man's earthly life between birth and death, two events or
moments stand out clearly and distinctly from all others. One
of them — it is not, of course, a ‘moment’ in the literal
sense but you will understand what is meant — is the
moment when as a being of spirit-and-soul, man comes down to
earthly life, into a physical body which serves as an
instrument for his activity on Earth. Not only does he
clothe himself in this physical body but in it transforms his
whole nature in order to become active on Earth. This is the
moment, the event, of birth and conception — the
beginning of earthly life. The other event is that of man's
departure from earthly life, when he returns through the gate
of death into the spiritual world.
Thinking, to begin with, of this latter event, we know that
during the first hours and days after a man's death, the
physical form remains preserved to a certain extent. But the
question arises: How is this physical human form related to
Nature, to the existence surrounding us in earthly life in the
several kingdoms of Nature? Is the relation of these kingdoms
of Nature, of external Nature as a whole to these remains of
the human being such that they would be capable of preserving
the structure intact? No, it is not. Nature is able only to
destroy the physical form that has been built up since
man's entry into earthly life; at death, the form which man
regards as that of his earthly existence begins to
disintegrate. Anyone who thinks deeply enough about this
very obvious truth will realise that in the physical human form
itself lies the refutation of the materialistic view. If the
materialistic view were correct, it would have to be said that
the human form is built up by Nature. But it is not so! Nature
cannot build the human form, but only destroy it. This thought
makes a very potent impression but one that is often quite
wrongly formulated. It remains in the unconscious region of the
soul, making itself strongly felt in everything we experience
concerning the riddle of death. Now the express aim of
Anthroposophy is to bring these riddles which life itself
presents to any impartial mind, to the degree of solution
necessary for the right conduct of life. Hence Anthroposophy
must at the outset direct attention to the event of death.
On
the other side there is the event of birth. Impartial
self-observation is essential here if a picture comparable to
that of death is to be obtained. This self-observation must be
deeply concerned with the nature of human thinking. Thinking
can be applied to everything that goes on in the physical
world. We form our thoughts of what goes on in the world. If we
did not do so we could not be men in the true sense for the
power to form thoughts distinguishes us from all other beings
around us in the realm of the Earth. But impartial observation
of our thoughts makes them appear widely removed from the
reality of existence around us. When we are engrossed in
thought we become inwardly abstract, inwardly cold, in
comparison with what we are in heart and soul when we surrender
ourselves to life. No impartial mind will ever doubt that
thoughts, as such, have a cold, abstract, arid quality. But
clear insight into the life of thought should be one of the
first meditative experiences of an anthroposophist. In
contemplating this life of thought he will discern in it
something very similar to the spectacle presented by a corpse.
What is characteristic of the sight of a human corpse? As it
lies there before us, we say to ourselves: A human soul and a
human spirit once lived in this structure and have now departed
from it. A corpse lies there as a husk of the soul and the
spirit. But at the same time it provides us with proof that the
world external to man could never have produced this particular
structure, that it could have proceeded only from the
soul and spirit, from the innermost core of man's nature, that
it is the residue of something now no longer present. In its
very form a corpse discloses that it is no truth in
itself but only a remains of truth, having meaning only
when soul and spirit are within it. In the form that remains a
great deal has been lost but a corpse nevertheless shows
that it was once the dwelling-place of soul and spirit.
If
the eye of the soul is directed to the life of thought, this
too, although from a rather different standpoint, will appear
to have something corpse-like about it. Impartial observation
of our own thinking reveals that in itself it can no more have
real existence than the human form can have real existence in a
corpse. In apprehending external Nature, there is as little
intrinsic reality in human thinking as there is in a corpse.
External Nature can certainly be apprehended by thoughts but
can never herself produce them. For if Nature in herself were
capable of producing thoughts there could be no such thing as
logic which perceives, independently of all laws of Nature,
what is sound or false in thinking. When we discern what a
thought in the earthly world really is, it must appear to us as
a corpse of the soul, just as what remains at the death of a
human being appears as a physical corpse. The form of a corpse
is comprehensible only when we see it as the remains left
behind at death by a living man. — Imagine for a
moment that there were on the Earth only a single human being,
and that at his death a being belonging to the planet Mars were
to come down and look at his corpse. It would be utterly
incomprehensible to such a being. Were he to study all the
forms in the mineral, plant and animal kingdoms he would find
no explanation of how the form lying there dead could have come
into existence. For this form is not only a contradiction in
itself, it is a manifest contradiction of the whole
extra-human, earthly world. Its very existence betrays that it
has been abandoned by something; for by itself it could
not exist.
So
it is with our thoughts. If external Nature alone were
responsible for producing them, they could never be as they
are: they are a corpse of the soul, comparable with a physical
corpse. The very existence of a corpse is evidence that
something has died. What is it that has died in the case of
thoughts? It is the kind of thinking that was ours before we
came down into the earthly world. Abstract thinking is the
corpse of what was once living thinking. The thinking of
a soul as yet without a body is related to the form which
thinking assumes in earthly existence as the human soul and
spirit are related to the corpse. And we men in the physical
body are the grave in which the pre-earthly, living life of the
soul has been entombed. The thoughts were once alive in the
soul; the soul has died to the spiritual world. We bear within
us not the living thoughts but the corpse of the thoughts.
This is the picture presented by the spectacle of birth —
the side of earthly life opposite to that of death. We speak
more correctly than is usual in our time when we say: the
spiritual in man dies through birth, the physical part of man
dies through death.
If
we find the approach to Anthroposophy through pondering on the
phenomenon of death and so realising that our thinking is a
corpse compared with pre-earthly thinking, our vista of man and
of life on the Earth widens and we prepare in the right way to
receive the teachings and the wisdom of Anthroposophy. The
reason why it is so difficult for men to find the natural path
to Anthroposophy is their erroneous conception of what is still
present — although as a corpse — in earthly
existence. To-day they place too high a value upon thinking but
do not know what it really is: they know it only in its
corpse-like character.
When we guide our thoughts in the direction I have been trying
to indicate, the two sides of the eternal life of the human
soul are brought into strong relief. In modern parlance there
is only one word — a word fundamentally the offspring of
human hopes — for the half of Eternity that begins now
and has no end. We have only the word ‘Immortality,’
because the question of what happens after death is of foremost
importance to the men of our time. All their interests in life
are bound up with knowing what happens after death. But there
were epochs in the evolution of humanity when something else
was of importance too. With his more egoistic thinking to-day a
man says: ‘What comes after death interests me because I should
like to know whether my life will continue thereafter; what
preceded birth or conception does not interest me.’ He does not
think about pre-earthly life as he does about the life after
death. But the Eternity of the human soul has these two sides:
Immortality and ‘Unborn-ness.’ Earlier Mystery-languages
of men who under the conditions prevailing in their day still
had vision of the super-sensible world, had a word also for
‘Unborn-ness,’ whereas we can formulate one only with
difficulty, by deliberately turning our minds to these matters.
Thereby we are also led to realise the essential difference
between the laws of Nature and the laws governing human,
destiny.
Our
human destiny seems, to begin with, to depend upon chance.
Acting upon some urge or impulse, we achieve one thing or
another and have to admit, in respect of ordinary life, that in
innumerable cases the destiny of many a really good man brings
him hard, painful and tragic experiences, whereas it will often
happen that to one whose aims are far from good, life brings no
hard but actually happy experiences.
With our ordinary, everyday consciousness we do not perceive
the connection between what proceeds from our own soul and the
destiny that befalls us. We see that the good may be followed
by heavy blows of fate and that evil is not necessarily
followed by anything except relatively favourable destiny. In
the happenings of Nature we perceive how under the sway of
necessity, effects follow causes, but in respect of the
spiritual reality in which our normal life is contained this
sway of necessity is not in evidence. Nevertheless an
impartial survey of our life impels us to say: we ourselves
have sought the stream of our destiny.
Let
a man who has reached a certain age in this incarnation observe
his earlier life quite objectively and impartially. He is, let
us say, fifty years of age, and he surveys the course of the
years back to childhood. He will then perceive how, following
some inner urge, he himself made the approach to
everything that befell him. It is not always a pleasant
experience. But as he follows the events of his life backwards,
he will be obliged to admit in respect of those that were
really decisive that he made straight for those events in time,
just as he may make straight for some point in space. The
stream of destiny issues from ourselves. And so it is
understandable when men such as Goethe's elderly friend Knebel
say that observation of human life clearly reveals a plan
running through it from beginning to end. True, this plan is
not always such that in looking back over it a man will always
insist that he would act in the same way again. But when he
closely observes the details of his actions and their
consequences, he will always perceive that an inner urge led
from the earlier to the later. Thus are the various events in
our lives explained. And this enables us to perceive that the
law taking effect through our moral life of soul is entirely
different from the law taking effect in the life of Nature. All
this helps to create the attitude which should be adopted
towards the spiritual investigator who from his vision of the
spiritual world is as well able to describe the laws governing
the forming of destiny as the naturalist is able to describe
the laws of Nature. And to understand the working of spiritual
law in the Universe is the task of Anthroposophy in our present age.
You
will remember that in the book
Occult Science: An Outline
and elsewhere too, I have said that the Moon
shining down upon us from the heavens was once united with the
Earth, that at a certain point of time the physical Moon
separated from the Earth and in a future age will again unite
with it. Now it was not only the physical Moon that separated
but with it went certain Beings who were on Earth when the
physical Moon and the Earth were still one body. When we think
of the spiritual treasures that have been contained in the
evolution of humanity we shall be led inevitably to the
conclusion that although in our present age men are
exceedingly clever — and nearly all of them are
— yet they are not truly wise. Treasures of wisdom,
expressed not in an intellectual but in a more poetic,
pictorial form, existed at the beginning of man's evolution on
Earth, scattered through mankind by great Teachers, primeval
Teachers who lived among men on Earth. These primeval Teachers
were not incarnated in physical bodies, but only in etheric
bodies and relations with them were different from relations
between physical human beings. These Teachers moved about the
Earth in etheric bodies and a man whose guide and leader they
became felt in his soul their nearness to him. He felt
something like an inspiration streaming into his soul; it was
like an inner flashing up of truths, of visions too — for
the teachings were imparted in a spiritual way. In that epoch
of Earth evolution, beings were really of two categories: the
visible and, for physical eyes, the invisible. Men did not
clamour for sight of those beings who were not visible for they
were able to receive their teachings without seeing them. Men
heard the teachings rising up from within their souls and said
to themselves: ‘One of the great primeval Teachers of humanity
has now drawn near to me.’ No attempt was made to form any
external pictures of these great Teachers. Men encountered them
in spiritual experiences, they did not stretch out physical
hands towards these Teachers, but encountered them nevertheless
and felt something that was like a spiritual grasp of the
hand.
It
was these primeval Teachers who imparted to mankind the great
treasures of wisdom of which only echoes have survived, even in
creations such as the Vedas and the Vedanta philosophy. Even
these great teachings of the East are no more than echoes. A
primeval wisdom once spread among humanity on the Earth and
then perished, in order that out of themselves, by their own
volition, men might again be able to scale the heights to the
spiritual world. Human freedom would not have been possible if
the primeval Teachers had remained among men. Hence a
comparatively short time after the Moon had separated from the
Earth they followed in its wake, establishing their abode upon
it. And there they have dwelt, supreme among the denizens of
this Moon colony, ever since they separated from the Earth,
leaving human beings to their own resources. Although we who
pass from one earthly life to another no longer meet these
great Teachers on Earth, we do so very shortly after passing
through the gate of death. When the physical body has been laid
aside at death, our etheric body expands and expands, but also
becomes evanescent, and finally dissolves in the Universe. As
soon as the etheric body has been laid aside a few days after
death, we feel that our existence is no longer on the Earth but
in the immediate environment of the Earth. When a few days have
passed after death we feel that we are no longer living on the
Earth; it is as though this terrestrial body has expanded as
far as the sphere encircled by the orbit of the Moon. We feel
that we are living on a magnified Earth; the Moon is no longer
felt to be a separate body, but the whole sphere is felt as a
unity, demarcated by the Moon's orbit; the Earth has expanded
to become the Moon sphere, and has become spiritual. We are
within the Moon sphere and there we remain for a considerable
time after death. But to begin with we come together again with
those spiritual Beings who at the beginning of man's existence
on Earth were the great primeval Teachers. They are the first
Beings whom we encounter in the Cosmos after our death; we
eventually come again into their realm and there undergo a
remarkable experience.
It
might seem easy to picture existence after death — I
shall still have to speak of its duration — as being
shadowy in comparison with the life on Earth which gives the
impression of being so robust. We can take hold of the things
of earthly life; they, like physical men, are solid, compact;
we say that something is real when we can actually take hold of
it. But after death this robust earthly life seems like a
dream, for entry into the Moon sphere brings us into an
existence where everything seems to be much more real, much
more saturated with reality than can ever be the case on Earth.
This is because the great primeval Teachers of humanity who
continue their existence in the Moon sphere permeate us
with their own being, and enable everything to appear to us
with greater reality than that which, as men of the Earth, we
experience in the things of the world. And what is it that we
experience in the Moon sphere?
Our
experience of earthly life is, after all, fragmentary. Looking
back over earthly life with ordinary consciousness, it appears
to us as a single, continuous stream. But what has it been in
reality? A day that has already become shadowy was followed by
a night of which ordinary consciousness has no remembrance.
Another day is followed by another night — and so it goes
on. In memory we string together only the days but in a true
retrospect the days must always be interrupted by what we have
experienced during the nights. Ordinary consciousness fails
here, and with a certain justification, because it is
extinguished in sleep. When we are among these Moon Beings who
were once the primeval Teachers of humanity, we live through
precisely what we experienced during the nights here on the
Earth. The length of time this form of existence in the Moon
sphere lasts can therefore be computed. If a man is not an
abnormally long sleeper he spends about one third of the
duration of his earthly life in sleep. And life in the Moon
sphere lasts for just so long, that is to say, for about one
third of the duration of the life on Earth. A man who reaches
the age of twenty spends about seven years in the Moon sphere;
one who reaches the age of sixty, about twenty years, and so
on. We live among these Beings and they permeate us with their
form of existence.
But
in order to understand life in this sphere we must think of
what a man becomes when the physical body is laid aside. This
is within the ken of an Initiate, and also of the dead. The
moment a man has left the physical body behind at death, he is
within the world that is outside that body. If as I
stand here I were to go out of my body, I should first of all
be within this table here, and then more and more deeply within
everything around me in the world — only not
inside my own skin. What was hitherto my inner world now
becomes my outer world, and everything that was formerly my
outer world becomes my inner world. My moral life too, becomes
outer world. Suppose that I once gave another person a box on
the ear in anger and my action made a grave moral impression
upon him. Now I live backwards over my life to its fortieth
year when I injured him in this way; in my life I may have
laughed about the incident, but now I experience, not what
I experienced at the time, but his physical pain,
his moral suffering. With my whole being I am within
him. In reality it was the same every night during sleep, but
then it remained below the level of consciousness; it was a
picture only, not an actual experience. After death, when we
are permeated with the substance of the great primeval Teachers
in the Moon sphere, the experience is infinitely more intense
than it was on Earth. What on Earth is like a dream, is in
yonder world a far stronger reality — and this is what we
experience. This same intense reality is experienced, too, by
one who with clairvoyant consciousness is able to follow a
human being on his way after death and, through the
attainment of Inspiration and super-sensible vision, to
live with him as a real presence. Then we realise that the
experiences through which men pass after death have far greater
intensity and reality than the experiences undergone before
death. And to experience what a human being is undergoing in
his existence after death makes an incomparably stronger
impression than earthly influences can ever make. To give you
an example. —
Some of you will certainly be familiar with the figure of
Strader in my Mystery Plays. The figure of Strader is drawn
more or less from real life; such a personality existed and
interested me profoundly. I followed the external life of this
personality who is portrayed, with certain poetic
modifications, in the figure of Strader. You know that I
have written four Mystery Plays, in the last of which Strader
dies. In 1913, when this fourth play was written, I could do no
otherwise than let Strader die. And why? As long as the
prototype of Strader was living in the physical world, my
attention had been focused upon that prototype. But in the
meantime this prototype had died. The whole man interested me
so deeply that I continued to follow him, and the impressions
coming from his life after death were so strong that they
completely extinguished all interest in what he had been in his
life on Earth. Not that the sympathy had waned, but it was
simply not adequate after one had followed what he was
experiencing after his physical death. In order to give these
tremendously strong impressions some kind of poetic form, I was
obliged to let Strader die, because his prototype had passed
into the after-death existence — and the impressions
coming from that were infinitely stronger than those of his
earlier life on Earth.
This had practical consequences. One or two friends guessed who
Strader's prototype had been in real life and with a certain
noble devotedness set about investigating his literary estate.
When with great delight they brought their findings to me, I
was obliged, involuntarily, to be rather discourteous, because
these findings did not interest me in the slightest. The
strength of the impressions of the life after death effaced any
interest in relics of the earthly life brought me by friends.
And so indeed it is. These impressions, which are due to the
fact that the Moon Beings imbue their very substance into man,
drown everything that can be experienced in earthly life and
infuse reality into existence. Hence, too, the compensatory
deed is fraught with greater reality, since it results from
experience of what a particular action signified to the one
against whom it was directed. And our experience of what the
other suffered is stronger than that caused in us by our own action.
Out
of the experiences we undergo after death in the realm of the
great primeval Teachers of humanity, the first seed of karma is
formed. For there we resolve to make compensation for what we
have done. Resolves, intentions, here take actual effect. On
Earth the good does not always seem to be followed by good, nor
evil by evil. But the resolves taken in a world of far greater
reality than the earthly world, the experience that we ourselves
must make compensation for what we have done — these
resolves will lead in the later life to actual adjustment.
It
is my intention to describe to you how karma gradually takes
shape for a new life when, having lived through the time
between death and rebirth, a man appears again in another
incarnation. During the first period after death, through our
communion with the Moon Beings, we form the resolve to fulfil
our karma. I shall therefore try to give you a concrete picture
of the stages by which in the life between death and a new
birth, man's karma is formulated.
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