If we want to get to know anthroposophy, then we need a different way of studying than what we do in ordinary science. Because anthroposophy really has to do with us as human beings, of course, and also with the rest of the world. But the human being is a focal point, one could say. And that means that when we take in certain knowledge, certain insights, it is not enough if we only know them.

Last time, I spoke about the fourfold nature of the human being. And I tried to do so in such a way that it would also become possible to relive these experiences. So that one does not simply read: ah, there are four members of being, physical body, etheric body, astral body, I. And then one must know it. One can know a little more about it, but everything remains knowledge.

That should actually not happen in the study of anthroposophy. One must, of course, take in certain facts as facts. But they should not remain that way. One must relate them to oneself. What is considered a bad trait in ordinary life—self-centeredness—must be intensively practiced precisely in the study of anthroposophy. That cannot be done with everything one takes in there. But with much, it is possible that one truly tries, with what one then knows, not to be satisfied with it and tries to really rediscover it within oneself or find it again in life, so that one can confirm it. So that one does not become a believer, not a believing anthroposophist, and also not someone who merely knows, but that one practices a secure self-knowledge and thereby becomes an anthroposophist.

Rudolf Steiner wrote a book called Theosophy, and yes, that is a book that, I think—how shall I put it—that book is the one that can be the most satisfying in life because it touches on those riddles that are life’s riddles. But he wrote it in such a way that one really has to think. It is not written in a simple way; it is written in such a way that one has to make an effort, and one might think that this is enough—that when one has made an effort and perhaps also involved memory, that is, has learned things by heart, as it were, that one has then done what is to be done. That is not so, and I hope that I can show in these videos that anthroposophy is not knowledge. It is also not anthropology.

It is an anthroposophy, and one actually only has wisdom when one brings it into harmony with life. That is what I first wanted to say because, yes, of course, one must also present facts, certain insights that are anthroposophical, but it should actually never happen that one forgets oneself in the process. I am myself the human being, and it concerns me—not so much my person, but that part within me that is truly human—and in this sense, I may relate everything to myself, examine: where is, what is now being discussed? Can I experience that this is so?  Rudolf Steiner then begins his Theosophy as follows:

The following words of Goethe express in a beautiful way the starting point of one of the paths by which the essence of the human being can be recognized.

And then come the words of Goethe:

As soon as man becomes aware of the objects around him, he considers them in relation to himself, and rightly so, for his entire fate depends on whether they please or displease him, whether they attract or repel him, whether they benefit or harm him. This entirely natural way of looking at and judging things seems as easy as it is necessary. And yet man is thereby exposed to a thousand errors, which often embarrass him and embitter his life.

Here, then, a fundamental activity of man is indicated, namely that one looks at the environment with one’s senses and that in what one perceives, one also has various experiences. So, on the one hand, there is something objective—the sensory perception—but on the other hand, this immediately also becomes subjective because I experience various things, which can be correct or incorrect, pleasant or unpleasant, which attract or repel me—this all has to do with me. That is the first thing. Or actually, two things: one has one’s sensory activity, and one has one’s feelings.

Then comes the third:

A far more difficult task is undertaken by those whose lively urge for knowledge strives to observe the objects of nature in themselves and in their relationships to one another. For they soon miss the standard that came to their aid when they considered things in relation to themselves as human beings. They lack the measure of pleasure and displeasure, of attraction and repulsion, of benefit and harm. To this, they must completely renounce; they must seek and investigate as indifferent and, as it were, divine beings, what is, and not what pleases. Thus, the true botanist should be moved neither by the beauty nor by the usefulness of plants. He should study their formation, their relationship to the rest of the plant kingdom. And just as they are all drawn forth and determined by the sun, so should he regard them all with the same calm gaze, take them in, and derive the standard for this knowledge, the data for judgment, not from himself, but from the realm of things he observes.

Here, then, the human capacity for knowledge is described. So, on the one hand, sensory perception and the experience that one has with sensory perception. And on the other hand, sensory perception and suprapersonal knowledge—where man completely detaches himself from his feelings, from his experiences, which should not count, only the facts count. And Goethe says that man is then, as it were, a divine being, elevated above the personal.

Then, one has the third faculty of man.

And we can indeed find this within ourselves, although perhaps this last faculty is the least practiced in our time. I do not believe that many people in ordinary life come to exercise this suprapersonal activity of knowledge. Scientists must, and students must as well, but truly entering the cognitive faculty as a kind of desire for suprapersonal activity—yes, I think that is not very common.

But we have these three faculties: Sensory perception. Relating what we perceive to ourselves, through our feelings and sensations. And then, as the third, this suprapersonal capacity for knowledge, where one precisely renounces all feelings, all sympathy, antipathy, attraction, etc., and thereby arrives at true knowledge.

Rudolf Steiner then takes these three faculties to point out to us that man is also a threefold being.

Sensory perception comes about entirely through the physical body. Because we have a physical body, we have senses and thus have this sensory perception. That which we do so that these facts relate to us—that is the soul. The soul has the characteristic of relating everything to itself. And the spirit rises above the soul life—I mean, that is not correctly said—rises above it. By renouncing all experience, all personal experience, in the act of knowing.

And so we have this threefold human nature, which we can understand as body, soul, and spirit. Body, soul, and spirit.

And when it is presented to us in this way, it is actually immediately clear that a truth is being expressed here: that the human being is threefold, namely … body – senses, soul – experience, and spirit – knowledge.

And if this is to become more than just knowledge, then in the coming weeks, we should actually want to live with it—to ask ourselves daily: oh yes, my senses are body, my experience is soul, my knowing is spirit.

These are, of course, not inventions of Rudolf Steiner. One can already see that Goethe clearly expressed these three faculties in his words. Why? Because it is so. One does not need to say, “I do not believe that,” or “I do believe that”—one does not need to say that at all, because one simply knows that it is so.

Then, of course, natural science, modern science, comes along and says—just as I said last time—yes, but soul and spirit are mere exhalations of the body. They are not independent entities.

For now, we can leave that as it is. And in the course of our investigations, it will surely become clear that this view cannot hold. That in the end, we do indeed gain the possibility within ourselves to determine: there is spirit, there is soul. And the body—well, we already knew that the body exists.

Last time, we learned—by considering the phenomenon of death—that the body, at death, is no longer the same body as we knew it in life. That there are elements of being that disappear. And that, in dying, the departure of the life body is of great significance.

Now, at the beginning of Theosophy, we learn that as human beings, we carry out three great activities—activities that we all know we perform.

Only now, we become aware that we can categorize these activities, that we can say: sensory perception – body, sensation and experience – soul, knowledge – spirit.

And if this penetrates us—so that we can truly experience it within ourselves—then it will also become easier to understand difficult texts, because we will already have the insights to some extent before reading, and we will recognize them in the text.

One could imagine that by deeply immersing oneself in this understanding—I am a human being; I have a body, a soul, and a spirit—then, when reading Goethe’s text, one would say, yes, that is actually what he is saying, too. He does not use the words body, soul, and spirit but he discusses these three aspects.

And so, there is Goethe’s friend, who expresses things in a completely different way than Goethe did—who, one could say, wrote difficult texts. But one could also say: once one understands what he is actually trying to make understandable, then these texts are no longer difficult at all. And finally, I would like to give an example of this. Here one can experience how great the difference is between Goethe and Schiller, the two heart friends. But at the same time, one can also discover how clear a difficult text becomes when one understands the basic principles of existence.

So, finally, a section from Schiller’s 13th letter on the aesthetic education of man:

Since the world is an extended change in time, the perfection of the faculty that connects man with the world must be the greatest possible changeability and extensiveness.

That is the first point. We live with our sensory perception in time and experience a continuous change.

Since the person is the constant within the change, the perfection of the faculty that must oppose this change must be the greatest possible independence and intensity.

So, first, the greatest possible changeability and extensiveness; now, the greatest possible independence and intensity.

By person, Schiller here means the inner essence, not the person in the sense of the ego, but the person in the sense of the spirit, one might say.

The more versatile the receptivity develops, the more mobile it is, and the more surface it offers to the phenomena, the more of the world man grasps, the more faculties he develops within himself. The more strength and depth the personality has, the more freedom reason gains, the more of the world man comprehends, the more form he creates outside himself.

So, on the one hand, this greatest possible changeability and extensiveness, through which man fully absorbs the world into himself; on the other hand, the person, who must acquire the greatest possible independence in order to withstand this change and yet have freedom, to be able to apply reason and then comprehend the world outside himself.

His culture will therefore consist, first, in bringing the receptive faculty into the most diverse contact with the world and, on the side of feeling, driving passivity to the highest degree.

So, as a human being, one should not stay at home but go out into the world and take in as much of it as possible. This is, of course, not only external but also applies, for example, to what one absorbs from world politics, and so on. All of this is the world.

Secondly, to let the determining faculty acquire the highest independence from the receptive faculty and, on the side of reason, to drive activity to the highest degree.

So, one goes out into the world and takes in everything in terms of changeability, remaining passive in feeling while absorbing. But opposite to this stands the person, who does the exact opposite: he remains steadfast in his independent freedom and urges himself to the highest activity.

Where both properties unite, there man will combine the highest fullness of existence with the highest independence and freedom, and instead of losing himself in the world, he will rather draw it into himself with the entire infinity of its phenomena and subject it to the unity of his reason.

If one is not inspired by this, then I do not know what will. For this is truly a magnificent description of the human essence. On the one hand—one can surely feel it—one goes into the world and passively absorbs everything from all sides. And on the other hand, in order not to lose himself, man has his person. His spirit, which always remains calmly independent and free within itself, yet drives the capacity of the spirit to the highest activity—so it does not remain passive but continually strives to understand everything through reason. Yes, this fills me with joy because one feels: this is man.

And Rudolf Steiner describes, based on Goethe, body, soul, and spirit. Here, in Schiller, we also find the body—eternal change; the soul—feeling; and the spirit—the eternal, resting, rational idea that leads to independence and freedom.

This is how I would love to continue.