Links Between the Living and the Dead
GA 140
10 October 1913, Bergen
I. Links Between the Living and the Dead
With all my heart I reciprocate the greeting of your Chairman, and I am sure that those who have come here with me to be together with friends in Bergen will cordially join me in this. It has been a beautiful journey through mountains that were so welcoming and so majestic, and I believe that everyone will be happy during their stay in this old Hanseatic city. A marvellous handiwork of man—the railway by which we traveled—has given us an impression seldom occurring in other regions of Europe, an impression of human creative power applied to Nature in her pure, original state. When one sees rocks that had to be shattered to pieces in order to produce a work like this, and sees them lying side by side with others piled up by Nature herself, impressions pour in which make a journey to a country such as this one of the grandest that can be undertaken nowadays. In this old city, friends will spend happy days and keep them in special remembrance because of their majestic background. These days will be enshrined in the memory especially because outer, physical evidence itself shows that, in this land too, anthroposophical hearts are beating in unison with our own pursuit of the spiritual treasures of humanity. It is quite certain that the visitors to this city will feel an even closer link of affection with those who have given us such a kindly reception.
As we are together here for the first time, I want to speak in an aphoristic way of matters pertaining to the spiritual world. Such matters are better and more easily expressed by word of mouth than in writing. This is not only because the prejudices existing in the world make it difficult in many respects to commit to writing everything that one so gladly conveys to hearts devoted to Anthroposophy, but it is also difficult because spiritual truths lend themselves better to the spoken word than to writing or to print.
This applies very specially to spiritual truths of a more intimate kind. For these things to be written down and printed always goes rather against the grain, although in our day it has to be done. It is always difficult to allow the more intimate truths relating to the higher worlds themselves to be written down and printed, precisely because writing and printing cannot be read by the spiritual Beings of whom one is speaking. Books cannot be read in the spiritual world.
True, for a short period after death books can still be read through remembrance, but the Beings of the higher Hierarchies cannot read our books. And if you ask: Do these Beings then not want to learn how to read?—I must tell you that according to my experience they show no desire at present to do so because they find that the reading of what is produced on the earth is neither necessary nor useful to them.
The spiritual Beings begin to read only when human beings on the earth read books—that is to say, when what is contained in the books comes to life in the thoughts of men. Then the spiritual Beings read in these thoughts; but what is written or printed is like darkness for the Beings of the spiritual worlds. And so when something is committed to writing or to print, one has the feeling that communications are being made behind the back of the spiritual Beings. This is a feeling which a man of modern culture may not wholly share, but every true occultist will experience this feeling of distaste for writing and print.
When we penetrate into the spiritual worlds with clairvoyant vision, we see it to be of particular importance that knowledge of the spiritual world shall spread more and more widely during the immediate future, because upon this spread of Spiritual Science will depend a great deal in respect of a change that is becoming increasingly necessary in man's life of soul. If with the eyes of spirit we look back over a period measured by centuries only, we find something that may greatly astonish those who have no knowledge of these things. It is that intercourse between the living and the dead has become more and more difficult, that even a comparatively short time ago this intercourse was far more active and alive.
When a Christian of the Middle Ages, or even a Christian of more recent centuries, turned his thoughts in prayer to the dead who had been related or known to him, his prayers and feelings bore him upward to the souls of the dead with much greater power than is the case today. For the souls of the dead to feel warmed by the breath of the love streaming from those who looked upwards or sent their thoughts upward to them in prayer, was far easier in the past than it is today—that is, if we allow external culture to be our only guide.
Again, the dead are cut off from the living more drastically in the present age than they were a comparatively short time ago, and this makes it more difficult for them to perceive what is astir in the souls of those left behind, This belongs to the evolution of humanity, but evolution must also lead to a rediscovery of this connection, this real intercourse between the living and the dead.
In earlier times the human soul was still able to maintain a real connection with the dead, even if it was no longer a fully conscious one, because for long now men have ceased to be clairvoyant. In even more ancient times the living were able to look upwards with clairvoyant vision to the dead and to follow the happenings of their life. Just as it was once natural for the soul to be in living relationship with the dead, so it is possible today for the soul to re-establish this intercourse and relationship by acquiring thoughts and ideas about the spiritual worlds. And it will be one of the practical tasks of anthroposophical life to ensure that the bridge is built between the living and the dead.
In order that we may really understand one another, I want to speak first of certain aspects of the mutual relationship between the living and the dead, starting with a quite simple phenomenon which will be explained in accordance with the findings of spiritual investigations. Souls who sometimes practise a little self-contemplation will be able to observe the following (and I believe that many have done so). Let us suppose that someone has hated another person in life, or perhaps it was, or is, merely a question of antipathy or dislike. When the person towards whom hatred or antipathy was directed dies, and the other hears of his death, he will feel that the same hatred or antipathy cannot be maintained. If the hatred persists beyond the grave, sensitive souls will feel a kind of shame that it should be so. This feeling—and it is present in many souls—can be observed by clairvoyance. During self-examination the question may well be asked: Why is it that this feeling of shame at some hatred or antipathy arises in the soul, for the existence of such hatred was never at any time admitted to a second person?
When the clairvoyant investigator follows in the spiritual worlds the one who has passed through the gate of death and then looks back upon the soul who has remained on the earth, he finds that, generally speaking, the soul of the dead has a very clear perception, a very definite feeling, of the hatred in the soul of the living man. The dead sees the hatred—if I may speak figuratively. The clairvoyant investigator is able to confirm with all certainty that this is so. But he can also perceive what such hatred signifies for the dead. It signifies an obstacle to the good endeavours of the dead in his spiritual development, an obstacle comparable with hindrances standing in the way of some external goal on earth. In the spiritual world the dead finds that the hatred is an obstacle to his good endeavours. And now we understand why hatred—even if there was justification for it in life—dies in the soul of one who practises a little self-contemplation: the hatred dies because a feeling of shame arises in the soul when the one who was hated has died. True, if the man is not clairvoyant he does not know the reason for this, but implanted in the very soul there is a feeling of being observed; the man feels: the dead sees my hatred and it is an actual hindrance to his good endeavours.
Many feelings rooted deeply in the human soul are explained when we rise into the worlds of spirit and recognize the spiritual facts underlying these feelings. Just as when doing certain things on earth we prefer not to be physically observed and would refrain from doing them if we knew this was happening, so hatred does not persist after a person's death when we have the feeling that we ourselves are being observed by him. But the love or even the sympathy we extend to the dead eases his path, removes hindrances from him.
What I am now saying—that hatred creates hindrances in the spiritual world and love removes them—does not cut across karma. After all, many things happen here on earth which we shall not attribute directly to karma. If we knock our foot against a stone, this must not always be attributed to karma—not, at any rate, to moral karma. In the same way it is not a violation of karma when the dead feels eased through the love streaming to him from the earth, or when he encounters hindrances to his good endeavours.
Something else that will make an even stronger appeal in connection with intercourse between the dead and the living is the fact that in a certain sense the souls of the dead too need nourishment; not, of course, the kind of nourishment required by human beings on the earth, but of the nature of spirit-and-soul. By way of comparison, just as we on the earth must have cornfields where the grain for our physical sustenance ripens, so must the souls of the dead have cornfields from which they can gather certain sustenance which they need during the time between death and a new birth. As the eye of clairvoyance follows the souls of the dead, the souls of sleeping human beings are seen to be cornfields for the dead. For one who has this experience in the spiritual world for the first time, it is not only surprising but deeply shattering to see how the souls living between death and a new birth hasten as it were to the souls of sleeping human beings, seeking for the thoughts and ideas which are in those souls; for these thoughts are food for the souls of the dead and they need this nourishment.
When we go to sleep at night, the ideas and thoughts which have passed through our consciousness in our waking hours begin to live, to be living beings. Then the souls of the dead draw near and share in these ideas, feeling nourished as they perceive them. When clairvoyant vision is directed to the dead who night after night make their way to the sleeping human beings left behind on earth—especially blood-relations but friends as well—seeking refreshment and nourishment from the thoughts and ideas that have been carried into sleep, it is a shattering experience to see that they often find nothing. For as regards the state of sleep there is a great difference between one kind of thought and another.
If throughout the day we are engrossed in thoughts connected with material life, if our mind is directed only to what is going on in the physical world and can be achieved there, if we have given no single thought to the spiritual worlds before passing into sleep but often bring ourselves into those worlds by means quite different from thoughts, then we have no nourishment to offer to the dead. I know towns in Europe where students induce sleepiness by drinking a lot of beer! The result is that they carry over thoughts which cannot live in the spiritual world. And then when the souls of the dead approach, they find barren fields; they fare as our physical body fares when famine prevails because our fields yield no crops. Especially at the present time much famine among souls can be observed in the spiritual worlds, for materialism is already very widespread. Many people regard it as childish to occupy themselves with thoughts about the spiritual world but thereby they deprive souls after death of needed nourishment.
In order that this may be rightly understood, it must be stated that nourishment after death can be drawn only from the ideas and thoughts of those with whom there was some connection during life; nourishment cannot be drawn from those with whom there was no connection at all. When we cultivate Anthroposophy today in order that there may again be in souls a spirituality which can be nourishment for the dead, we are not working only for the living, or merely in order to provide them with some kind of theoretical satisfaction, but we try to fill our hearts and souls with thoughts of the spiritual world because we know that the dead who were connected with us on earth must draw their nourishment from these thoughts. We feel ourselves to be workers not only for living human beings, but workers too in the sense that anthroposophical activity, the spread of anthroposophical life, is also of service to the spiritual worlds. In speaking to the living for their life by day, we promote ideas which, bringing satisfaction as they do in the life by night, are fruitful nourishment for the souls whose karma it was to die before us. And so we feel the urge not only to spread Anthroposophy by the ordinary means of communication, but deep down within us there is the longing to cultivate Anthroposophy in communities, in groups, because this is of real value.
As I have said, the dead can draw nourishment only from souls with whom they were associated in life. We therefore try to bring souls together in order that the harvest-fields for the dead may become more and more extensive. Many a human being who after death finds no harvest-field because all his family are materialists, finds it among the souls of anthroposophists with whom he had had some connection. That is the deeper reason for working together in community, and why we are anxious that the dead should have been able before death to know anthroposophists who are still occupied on the earth with spiritual things; for when these people are asleep the dead can draw nourishment from them.
In ancient times, when a certain spirituality pervaded the souls of men, it was among religious communities and blood-relatives that help was sought after death. But the power of blood-relationship has diminished and must be replaced by cultivation of the spiritual life, as is our endeavour. Anthroposophy can therefore promise that a new bridge will be built between the living and the dead and that through it we can mean something real to the dead. And when with clairvoyant vision today we sometimes find human beings in the life between death and a new birth suffering because they have known, including their nearest and dearest, [those who] harbour only materialistic thoughts, we recognize how necessary it is for cultural life on earth to be permeated with spiritual thoughts.
Suppose, for example, we find in the spiritual world a man who died fairly recently, whom we knew during his life on earth and who left behind certain members of his family also known to us. The wife and children were all of them good people in the ordinary sense, with a genuine love for one another. But clairvoyant vision now reveals that the father, whose wife was the very sun of his existence when he came home after heavy and arduous work, cannot see into her soul because she has not spiritual thoughts either in her head or in her heart. And so he asks: Where is my wife? What has become of her? He can look back only to the time when he was united with her on earth, but now, when he is seeking her most urgently of all, he cannot find her. This may well happen. There are many people today who believe that as far as consciousness is concerned the dead have passed into a kind of void, who can think of the dead only with materialistic thoughts, not with any fruitful thoughts. In the life between death and rebirth a soul may be looking towards someone still on earth. someone who had loved him, but the love is not combined with belief in the soul's continued existence after death. In such a case, at the very moment after death when this desire arises to see one who was loved on earth, all vision may be extinguished. The living human being cannot be found, nor can any link be established with him, although it is known that he could indeed be contacted if spiritual thoughts were harboured in his soul.
This is a frequent and sorrowful experience for the dead. And so it may happen—this can be seen by clairvoyant vision—that many a human being after death encounters obstacles in the way of his highest aims on account of the thoughts of antipathy by which he is followed, and he finds no consolation in the living thoughts of those to whom he was dear on earth because owing to their materialism they are hidden from his sight.
The laws of the spiritual world, perceived in this way by clairvoyant vision, hold good unconditionally. That this is so is shown by an example which it has often been possible to observe. It is instructive to see how thoughts of hatred, or at least antipathy, take effect even if they are not conceived in full consciousness. There are school-teachers of the type usually known as ‘strict’, who are unable to gain the affection of their pupils; in such cases of course, the thoughts of antipathy and hatred are formed half innocently. But when such a teacher dies it can be seen how these thoughts too—for they persist—are obstacles in the way of his good endeavours in the spiritual world. After the teacher's death it is not often that a child or young person realizes that his hatred ought to cease, but he nevertheless preserves the feeling of how the teacher tormented him. From such insights a great deal can be learnt about the mutual relationships between the living and the dead.
I have been trying to lead up to something that can become a fundamentally good result of anthroposophical endeavour—namely, reading to the dead. It has been proved in our own Movement that very great service can be rendered to the souls of those who have died before us by reading to them about spiritual things. This can be done by directing your thoughts to the dead and, in order to make this easier, you can picture him as you knew him in life, standing or sitting before you. In this way you can read to more than one soul at a time. You do not read aloud, but you follow the ideas with alert attention, always keeping in mind the thought: The dead are standing before me.
That is what is meant by reading to the dead. It is not always essential to have a book, but you must not think abstractly and you must think each thought to the end. In this way you are able to read to the dead.
Although it is more difficult, this can be carried so far that if in the realm of some particular world-conception—or indeed in any domain of life—thoughts have been held in common with the soul of the dead and there has been some degree of personal relationship, one can even read to a soul with whom the connection has been no closer than this. Through the warmth of the thoughts directed to him, he gradually becomes attentive. Thus it may be of real use to read to distant associates after their death.
The reading can take place at any time. I have been asked what is the best hour of the day for such reading, but it is quite independent of time. All that matters is to think the thoughts through to the end; to skim through them is not enough. The subject-matter must be worked through word by word, as if one were reciting inwardly. Then the dead read with us. Nor is it correct to think that such reading can be useful only to those who have come into contact with Anthroposophy during their lifetime. This is by no means necessarily so.
Quite recently, perhaps not even a year ago, one of our friends, and his wife too, felt a kind of uneasiness every night. As the friend's father had died a short time previously, it struck him at once that his father was wanting something and was turning to him. And when this friend came to me for advice, it was found that the father, who during his lifetime would not listen to a word about Anthroposophy, was feeling an urgent need after his death to know something of it. Then, when the son and his wife read to the father the lecture-course on the Gospel of St. John which I once gave in Cassel, this soul felt deeply satisfied, as though lifted above many disharmonies that had been experienced shortly after death.
This case is noteworthy because the soul concerned was that of a preacher who had regularly presented the views of his religion to other men, but after death could only find satisfaction by being able to share in the reading of an anthroposophical elucidation of the Gospel of St. John. It is not essential that the one whom we wish to help after death should have been an anthroposophist in his lifetime, although in the nature of things very special service will be rendered to an anthroposophist by reading to him.
A fact such as this gives us a view of the human soul quite different from the one usually held. There are factors in the souls of men of far greater complexity than is generally believed. What takes its course consciously is actually only a small part of man's life of soul. In the unconscious depths of his soul there is a great deal going on of which he has at most a dim inkling; it hardly enters at all into his clear waking consciousness. Moreover, the very opposite of what a man believes or thinks in his upper consciousness may often be astir in his subconscious life. A very frequent case is that one member of a family comes to Anthroposophy and the brother or the husband or the wife become more and more hostile to it, often scornful and rabidly opposed. Great antipathy to Anthroposophy then develops in such a family and life becomes very difficult for many people because of the scorn and even anger of friends or relatives.
Investigation of these latter souls often reveals that in their subconscious depths an intense longing for Anthroposophy is developing. Such a soul may be longing for Anthroposophy even more intensely than someone who in his upper consciousness is an avid attender of anthroposophical meetings. But death lifts away the veils from the subconscious and balances out such things in a remarkable way. It often happens in life that a man deadens himself to what lies in the subconscious; there are people who may have an intense longing for Anthroposophy—but they deaden it. By raging against Anthroposophy they deaden this longing and delude themselves by repudiating it. But after death the longing asserts itself all the more forcibly. The most ardent longing for Anthroposophy often shows itself after death in the very people who have raged against it in life. Do not, therefore, refrain from reading to those who were hostile to Anthroposophy while they were alive, for by this reading you may often be rendering them the greatest service imaginable.
A question often raised in connection with this is: ‘How can one be sure that the soul of the dead person is able to listen?’ Admittedly, without clairvoyance it is difficult to be sure of this, although one who steeps himself in thoughts of the dead will in time be surprised by a feeling that the dead person is actually listening. This feeling will be absent only if he is inattentive and fails to notice the peculiar warmth that often arises during the reading. Such a feeling can indeed be acquired, but even if this proves not to be possible it must nevertheless be said that in our attitude to the spiritual world a certain principle always applies. The principle is that when we read to one who has died, we help him under all circumstances, if he hears us. Even if he does not hear us, we are fulfilling our duty and may eventually succeed in enabling him to hear. In any case we gain something by absorbing thoughts and ideas which will quite certainly be nourishment for the dead in the way indicated. Therefore under no circumstances is anything lost. Actual experience has shown that in fact this awareness of what is being read is extra-ordinarily widespread among the dead, and that tremendous service can be rendered to those to whom we read the spiritual wisdom that can be imparted to us today.
Thus we may hope that the wall dividing the living from the dead will become thinner and thinner as Anthroposophy spreads through the world. And it will be a beautiful and splendid result of Anthroposophy if in a future time men come to know—but as actual fact, not in theory only—that in reality it is only a matter of a transformation of experience when we ourselves have passed through so-called death and are together with the dead. We can actually enable them to share in what we ourselves experienced during physical life. A false idea of the life between death and rebirth would be indicated if the question were asked: ‘Why is it necessary to read to the dead? Do they not know through their own vision what those on earth can read to them, do they themselves not know it far better?’ This question will of course be asked only by one who is not in a position to know what can be experienced in the spiritual world. After all, we can live in the physical world without acquiring knowledge of it. If we are not in a position to form judgments about certain things, we have no real knowledge of the physical world. The animals live together with us in the physical world, but do not know it as we ourselves know it. The fact that a soul after death is living in the spiritual world does not mean that this soul has knowledge of that world, although he is able to behold it. The knowledge acquired through Anthroposophy can be acquired only on the earth; it cannot be acquired in the spiritual world. If, therefore, beings in the spiritual world are to possess knowledge, it must be learnt through those who themselves acquire it on earth. It is an important secret of the spiritual worlds that the soul can be in them and behold them, but that knowledge of them must be acquired on the earth.
At this point I must mention a common misconception about the spiritual worlds. When a human being is living in the spiritual world between death and a new birth, he directs his longing to our physical world somewhat as a physical human being directs his longing to the spiritual world. A man between death and a new birth expects from men on the earth that they will show and radiate up to him knowledge that can be acquired only on the earth. The earth has not been established without purpose in spiritual world-existence; the earth has been summoned to life in order that there may come into being that which is possible nowhere else. Knowledge of the spiritual worlds—which means more than vision, more than a mere onlooking—can arise only on the earth.
I said before that the beings of the spiritual worlds cannot read our books, and I must now add that what lives in us as Anthroposophy is for the spiritual beings, and also for our own souls after death, what books here on earth are for physical man—something through which he acquires knowledge of the world. But these books which we ourselves are for the dead, are living books. Try to feel the importance of these words: we must provide reading for the dead!
In a certain sense our books are more long-suffering, for they do not allow their letters to vanish away into the paper while we are reading them, whereas by filling our minds with material thoughts which are invisible in the spiritual worlds, we men often deprive the dead of the opportunity of reading. I am obliged to say this because the question is often raised as to whether the dead themselves are not capable of knowing what we are able to give them. They cannot be, because Anthroposophy can be grounded only on the earth and must be carried up from there into the spiritual worlds.
When we ourselves penetrate into the spiritual worlds and come to know something about the life there, we encounter conditions altogether different from those prevailing in physical life on earth. That is why it is so very difficult to describe these conditions in terms of human words and human thoughts. Any attempt to speak concretely about them often seems paradoxical.
To take one example only, I am able to tell you of a human soul after death together with whom it was possible—because of his special knowledge—to make certain discoveries in the spiritual world about the great painter Leonardo da Vinci, particularly about his famous picture of the Last Supper, in Milan. When one investigates a spiritual fact in association with such a soul, this soul is able to indicate many things which ordinary clairvoyance might not otherwise have found in the Akasha Chronicle. The soul in the spiritual world is able to point them out, but can do so only if there is some understanding of what this soul is trying to convey. Something very noteworthy then comes to light.
Suppose that in company with such a soul one is investigating how Leonardo da Vinci created his famous picture. Today the picture is hardly more than a few patches of colour. But in the Akasha Chronicle one can watch Leonardo as he painted, one can see what the picture was once like—although this is not an easy thing to do. When the investigation is carried on in company with a soul who is not incarnate but has some connection with Leonardo da Vinci and his painting, one perceives that this soul is showing one certain things—for example, the faces of Christ and of Judas as they actually were in the picture. But one perceives, too, that the soul could not reveal this unless at the moment when it is being revealed there is understanding in the soul of the living investigator. This is a sine qua non. And only at the moment when the soul of the living investigator is receptive to what is being disclosed does the discarnate soul itself learn to understand what is otherwise merely vision. To speak figuratively.—After something has been experienced together with such a soul—something that can be experienced only in the way described—this soul says to one: You have brought me to the picture and I feel the urge to look at it with you. (The soul of the dead says this to the living investigator because of the latter's desire to investigate the picture.) Numerous experiences then arise. But a moment comes when the discarnate soul is either suddenly absent or says that it must depart. In the case of which I have just told you, the discarnate soul said: Up to now the soul of Leonardo da Vinci regarded with approval what was being done, but does not now desire the investigation to continue.
My object in telling you this is to describe an important feature of the spiritual life. Just as in physical life we know that we are looking at this or that object—we see a rose, or whatever it may be—so in the spiritual life we know: this or that being is seeing us, watching us. In the spiritual worlds we have the constant feeling that beings are looking at us. Whereas in the physical world we are conscious that we are observing the world, in the spiritual world the experience is that we ourselves are being observed, now from this side, now from that. We feel that eyes are upon us all the time, but eyes that also impel us to take decisions. With the knowledge that we are or are not being watched by eyes in favour of what we ought or ought not to do, we either do it or refrain. Just as we reach out to pick a flower that delights us because we have seen it, in the spiritual world we do something because a being there views it favourably, or we refrain from the action because we cannot endure the look that is directed at it. This experience must become ingrained in us. In the spiritual world we feel that we ourselves are being seen, just as here in the physical world we feel that we ourselves are seeing. In a certain sense, what is active here is passive in that other world, and what is active there is passive here.
From this it is obvious that quite different concepts must be acquired in order to understand correctly descriptions of conditions in the spiritual world. You will therefore realize how difficult it is to coin in words of ordinary human language descriptions of the spiritual world that one would so gladly give. And you will realize too how essential it is that for many things the necessary preparatory understanding shall first have been created.
There is only one other matter to which I want to call attention. The question may arise: Why does anthroposophical literature describe in such a general sense what happens directly after death, in Kamaloca and in the realm of spirits (Devachan) and why is so little said about individual examples of clairvoyant vision? For it may well be believed that to observe a particular soul after death would be easier than to describe general conditions. But it is not so. I will use a comparison to explain this.
It is easier for rightly developed clairvoyance to survey the broad, general conditions—such as the passage of the human soul through death, through Kamaloca and upwards into Devachan than to perceive some particular experience of an individual soul. In the physical world it is easier to have knowledge of phenomena that are subject to the influences of the great movements of the celestial bodies and more difficult in the case of irregular phenomena caused by those movements. Every one of you will be able to predict that the sun will rise tomorrow morning and set in the evening; but it is not so easy to know exactly what the weather will be. The same holds good for clairvoyance. The knowledge of conditions usually portrayed in the descriptions of the spiritual worlds—conditions which are first perceived in clairvoyant consciousness—is to be compared with the knowledge of the general course taken by the heavenly bodies. And one can always count upon the fact that the data of such knowledge will generally prove correct.
Particular happenings in the life between death and rebirth are like the weather conditions here on the earth—which are, of course, also subject to law, but difficult to know with certainty. At one place one cannot be sure what kind of weather there is at another. Here in Bergen it is difficult to know what the weather is in Berlin, but not the positions of the sun or the moon. A special development of the faculty of clairvoyance is required to follow the course of an individual life after death, for to do this is more difficult than to follow the general course taken by the human soul.
On the right path, knowledge of the general conditions is acquired first, and only at the very end—if the necessary development has been achieved through training—knowledge of what would seem to be the easier. A man may have been able for some time to see conditions in Kamaloca or Devachan quite correctly and yet find it extremely difficult to see what time it is on the watch on his pocket. Things in the physical world present the greatest difficulty of all to clairvoyance.
In acquiring knowledge of the higher worlds it is exactly the opposite. Errors occur here because a certain natural clairvoyance still exists; this clairvoyance is unreliable and prone to all kinds of aberrations, but it may long have been present without its possessor having clairvoyant sight of the general conditions described in Anthroposophy, which are easier for the trained clairvoyant.
This is what I wanted to say to you today about the spiritual worlds. In the lecture tomorrow we will continue and to some extent deepen these studies.
Die Lebendige Wechselwirkung Zwischen Lebenden Und Toten
Erster Vortrag
In der herzlichsten Weise erwidre ich den lieben Gruß, der soeben von Ihrem Vertreter ausgesprochen worden ist. Und überzeugt bin ich, daß diejenigen Freunde, die mit mir hier in diese Stadt heraufgekommen sind, um mit unseren Bergener Freunden anthroposophisches Leben zu pflegen, herzlich einstimmen in diese Begrüßung. Es ist ja zweifellos schön gewesen bei der Herfahrt über die uns so freundlich und so großartig anmutenden Berge, und ich glaube, daß unsere Freunde sich in der alten hanseatischen Stadt wohl fühlen werden in den Tagen, in denen sie hier sein können. Nicht nur hat uns das Menschenwunderwerk der Bahn, mit welcher wir gefahren sind, in intimer Weise gerade in dieser Gegend den Eindruck nahebringen können, den man in anderen Gegenden Europas wenig hat, daß, unmittelbar zusammengedrängt, uns entgegentrat menschliche energische Schaffenskraft in der ursprünglichen Natur: wenn man sieht, wie Steine, die notwendig gebrochen werden mußten, um so etwas zustande zu bringen, wie es der menschliche Geist heute zustande bringt, unmittelbar neben den anderen liegen, die die Natur aufgetürmt hat, dann kommen Eindrücke, die wahrhaftig den Besuch eines solchen Landes zu dem Herrlichsten machen können, das man heute unternehmen kann. In dieser alten Stadt werden die Freunde die Tage, an denen wir hier sein dürfen, schön durchleben und sie besonders in Erinnerung bewahren durch diesen erhabenen Hintergrund des Aufenthaltes. Es werden Tage des Andenkens sein. Insbesondere aber werden sie das sein aus dem Grunde, weil wir uns durch den äußeren, physischen Augenschein überzeugen durften, daß wir auch hier in dieser Gegend anthroposophische Herzen finden können, die mit uns zusammenschlagen in dem Erstreben der geistigen Schätze der Menschheit. Gewiß werden sich die Besucher dieser Stadt noch enger, noch lieber, noch teurer verbunden glauben mit denen, die uns hier so lieb aufgenommen haben.
Dasjenige, was ich, da wir ja gewissermaßen zum ersten Male hier zusammen sind, besprechen möchte, wird eine Art aphoristischen Charakter tragen. Ich möchte aus dem Gebiete der geistigen Welt einiges von dem besprechen, was leichter und besser mündlich gesagt werden kann, als es in unserer Schrift aufgezeichnet werden kann. Leichter mündlich gesagt werden kann es nicht nur aus dem Grunde, weil es heute gegenüber den Vorurteilen der Welt nicht bloß in vieler Beziehung noch schwierig ist, alles sozusagen der Schrift anzuvertrauen, was man gerne anthroposophischen hingebungsvollen Herzen anvertraut, sondern auch schwierig aus dem Grunde, weil wirklich sich die geistigen Wahrheiten besser mündlich sagen lassen, als daß sie der Schrift und dem Druck anvertraut werden. Insbesondere muß das gelten von den intimeren geistigen Wahrheiten. Man hat immer ein etwas bitteres Gefühl, trotzdem in unserer Zeit es ja sein muß, daß diese Dinge auch aufgeschrieben und gedruckt werden; es ist immer mißlich, die intimeren geistigen Wahrheiten, die sich auf die höheren geistigen Welten selber beziehen, aufzuschreiben und sie drucken zu lassen. Schon aus dem Grunde ist das mißlich, weil ja die Schrift und der Druck zu den Dingen gehören, welche die Wesen, von denen man da spricht, die geistigen Wesen, nicht lesen können. Bücher können in der geistigen Welt nicht gelesen werden. Bücher können zwar von uns eine kurze Zeit nach unserem Tode aus der Erinnerung heraus noch gelesen werden, aber die Wesen der höheren Hierarchien können unsere Bücher nicht lesen. Und wenn Sie fragen, ob sie sich denn diese Kunst des Lesens nicht aneignen wollen, so muß ich nach meiner Erfahrung gestehen, daß sie vorläufig keine Lust dazu zeigen, weil sie das Lesen desjenigen, was auf der Erde hervorgebracht wird, für sich selber nicht nötig und nicht nützlich finden. Das Lesen der geistigen Wesenheiten beginnt erst dann, wenn Menschen auf der Erde in den Büchern lesen, das heißt: wenn das, was in den Büchern steht, lebendiger Gedanke der Menschen wird, dann lesen die Geister in den Gedanken der Menschen. Aber dasjenige, was geschrieben oder gedruckt ist, das ist wie die Finsternis für die Wesen der geistigen Welt; so daß man gegenüber diesen geistigen Wesenheiten selber das Gefühl hat, daß wenn man der Schrift oder dem Druck etwas anvertraut, man Mitteilungen macht hinter dem Rücken der geistigen Wesenheiten. Das ist ein reales Gefühl, das ein Kulturbürger der Gegenwart vielleicht nicht ganz teilen wird; aber jeder wahre Okkultist wird dieses Gefühl des Widerstrebens gegen Schrift und Druck haben.
Wenn wir mit dem hellsichtigen Blick in die geistigen Welten eindringen, dann erscheint es uns besonders in der Gegenwart von ganz besonderer Wichtigkeit, daß immer mehr und mehr, von der Gegenwart angefangen, in die nächste Zukunft hinein das Wissen von der geistigen Welt Verbreitung und immer mehr und mehr Verbreitung gewinnt, weil von dieser Verbreitung der Geisteswissenschaft vieles abhängen wird in bezug auf eine immer notwendiger und notwendiger werdende Änderung des menschlichen Seelenlebens. Sehen Sie, wenn wir in alte Zeiten zurückgehen mit unserem geistigen Blick, wenn wir nur um Jahrhunderte zurückgehen, so finden wir mit dem geistigen Blick etwas, was für den Nichtkenner recht überraschend sein kann. Man findet nämlich, daß der Verkehr zwischen Lebenden und Toten immer schwieriger und schwieriger wird, daß noch vor einer verhältnismäßig kurzen Zeit die lebendige Wechselwirkung der Lebenden und der Toten eine viel regsamere war. Wenn der Christ des Mittelalters oder auch der Christ noch gar nicht lang verflossener Jahrhunderte mit seinem Gebet das Gedenken an die ihm verwandten oder bekannten Verstorbenen gerichtet hat, so waren in diesen verflossenen Jahrhunderten die Gefühle, die Empfindungen eines solchen Betenden viel kraftvoller, als sie heute sind, um zu den verstorbenen Seelen hinaufzudringen. Viel leichter fühlte sich die verstorbene Seele in der Vergangenheit durchdrungen von dem warmen Hauch der Liebe derjenigen, die im Gebet zu ihr hinaufschauten oder hinaufdachten, als das heute der Fall sein kann, wenn wir uns nur der äußeren Zeitbildung hingeben. Und wiederum sind heute die Toten viel abgeschnittener von den Lebenden, als es noch vor einer verhältnismäßig kurzen Zeit der Fall war. Die Toten haben es heute gewissermaßen viel schwieriger, dasjenige zu erblicken, was in den Seelen der Zurückgebliebenen lebendig vorgeht. Dieses liegt in der Evolution der Menschheit. Aber in der Evolution der Menschheit muß es auch liegen, diesen Zusammenhang, diesen lebendigen Verkehr zwischen den Lebenden und den Toten wiederum zu finden. Es war in früheren Zeiten der Menschenseele ein lebendiger Zusammenhang mit den Toten noch auf natürliche Weise eigen, wenn auch nicht mehr mit vollem Bewußtsein, weil ja schon seit einer längeren Vergangenheit die Menschen nicht mehr hellsichtig sind. In noch früherer Zeit konnten die Lebenden auch noch hellsichtig aufblicken zu den Toten, das Leben der Toten verfolgen. Wie früher es der Seele natürlich war, eine lebendige Wechselwirkung zu haben mit den Toten, so kann heute die Seele dadurch, daß sie sich aneignet Gedanken und Ideen über die höheren, geistigen Welten, wieder die Kraft finden, den Verkehr mit den Toten, die lebendige Wechselwirkung herzustellen. Und unter den praktischen Aufgaben des anthroposophischen Lebens wird auch diese sein, daß wiederum die Brücke immer mehr und mehr gebaut werde durch die Geisteswissenschaft zwischen den Lebenden und den Toten.
Damit wir uns recht verstehen, möchte ich zuerst auf einiges in der Wechselwirkung zwischen Lebenden und Toten aufmerksam machen. Ich möchte von einer ganz einfachen Erscheinung ausgehen und möchte geistesforscherisch an diese Erscheinung anknüpfen. Seelen, welche manchmal ein wenig mit sich zu Rate gehen, werden folgendes bei sich beobachten können — ich glaube, daß es viele Seelen gibt, die das bei sich beobachtet haben: Nehmen wir einmal an, irgend jemand habe im Leben eine andere Person gehaßt oder vielleicht nur sich sagen müssen, daß ihr diese andere Person antipathisch war oder ist. Wenn diese Person, die gehaßt wurde oder der gegenüber jemand Antipathie empfunden hat, dann stirbt — ich glaube, daß viele Seelen das von sich aus wissen —, dann fühlt derjenige, der gehaßt hat oder der Antipathie empfunden hat im Leben, wenn er von dem Tode erfährt, daß er nicht mehr in derselben Weise diese Persönlichkeit hassen kann oder nicht mehr die Antipathie aufrechterhalten kann. Und wenn der Haß fortdauert über das Grab hinaus, dann fühlen zartere Seelen Schamgefühl über einen solchen Haß, über eine solche Antipathie, die über das Grab hinaus dauert. Diese Empfindung, die sich bei vielen Seelen findet, kann nun hellsichtig verfolgt werden. Man kann während der Forschung sich die Frage stellen: Warum tritt denn dieses Schamgefühl der Seele ein gegenüber einem Haß oder einer Antipathie, warum tritt es ein, wenn man auch gar nicht einmal im Leben irgendeiner zweiten Person angedeutet hat, daß man diesen Haß hat?
Wenn der Hellseher den Menschen, der durch die Pforte des Todes gegangen ist, in die geistigen Welten hinauf verfolgt und da einen Blick tut auf die Seele, die hier auf Erden zurückgeblieben ist, so stellt sich heraus, daß im allgemeinen die verstorbene Seele eine sehr deutliche Wahrnehmung, eine sehr deutliche Empfindung von dem Haß in der lebenden Seele hat; gleichsam, wenn ich mich eines Bildes bedienen darf: der Tote sieht den Haß. Das kann der Hellseher ganz genau konstatieren, daß der Tote einen solchen Haß sieht. Aber wir können auch verfolgen, was ein solcher Haß für den Toten bedeutet. Ein solcher Haß bedeutet nämlich für den Toten ein Hindernis für die guten Absichten in seiner geistigen Entwickelung, ein Hindernis, das etwa verglichen werden kann mit Hindernissen, die wir für die Erreichung eines äußeren Zieles auf Erden haben finden können. Dies ist der Tatbestand in der geistigen Welt, daß der Tote den Haß als Hindernis seiner guten und besten Absichten vorfindet. Und jetzt begreifen wir, warum in der Seele, die ein wenig mit sich selbst zu Rate geht, sogar der im Leben berechtigte Haß erstirbt: weil sie Scham empfindet, wenn der gehaßte Mensch gestorben ist. Wenn der Mensch kein Hellseher ist, so weiß er zwar nicht, was da vorliegt, aber das ist wie durch ein natürliches Gefühl in die Seele gepflanzt, daß er sich beobachtet fühlt; er fühlt: der Tote schaut meinen Haß, ja, dieser Haß ist für ihn sogar ein Hindernis in seinen guten Absichten. — Viele tiefe Gefühle sind in der Menschenseele, die sich erklären, wenn man in die Geisteswelten hinaufsteigt und die geistigen Tatsachen ins Auge faßt, welche diesen Gefühlen zugrunde liegen. Wie man für manche Dinge auf der Erde äußerlich physisch nicht beobachtet sein will, beziehungsweise wie man diese Dinge nicht tut, wenn man sich beobachtet weiß, so haßt man nicht über den Tod hinaus, wenn man die Empfindung hat: man wird von dem Toten beobachtet. Die Liebe aber oder auch nur die Sympathie, die wir dem Toten entgegenbringen, die ist dem Toten tatsächlich eine Erleichterung auf seinem Wege, die schafft ihm Hindernisse hinweg. Das was ich jetzt sage, daß Haß Hindernisse schafft im Jenseits und Liebe sie beseitigt, das ist nicht eine Durchbrechung des Karma, wie ja auch hier auf der Erde viele Dinge geschehen, die wir nicht unmittelbar einzurechnen haben in das Karma. Wenn wir unseren Fuß an einen Stein stoßen, so müssen wir das nicht immer in das Karma einrechnen, wenigstens nicht in das moralische Karma. Ebenso widerspricht es nicht dem Karma, wenn der Tote sich erleichtert fühlt durch die Liebe, die ihm zuströmt von der Erde, und wenn er Hindernisse findet für seine guten Absichten.
Etwas anderes, was, man möchte sagen, schon energischer zu den Seelen sprechen wird in bezug auf den Verkehr zwischen Toten und Lebenden, das ist, daß die toten Seelen auch in einer gewissen Weise Nahrung brauchen, allerdings nicht Nahrung, wie sie die Menschen brauchen auf der Erde, sondern geistig-seelische Nahrung. Wie es einer Tatsache entspricht, daß wir Menschen auf der Erde - ich darf diesen Vergleich gebrauchen — unsere Saatfelder haben müssen, auf denen die Früchte gedeihen, von denen wir auf Erden physisch leben, so müssen die Seelen der Toten Saatfelder haben, auf denen sie gewisse Früchte ernten können, die sie brauchen in der Zeit zwischen dem Tode und einer neuen Geburt. Wenn der hellsichtige Blick die toten Seelen verfolgt, so sieht er, wie die schlafenden Menschenseelen das Saatfeld sind für die Toten, für die Dahingegangenen. Es ist gewiß nicht nur überraschend, sondern für den, der das zum ersten Male sieht in der geistigen Welt, sogar im höchsten Grade erschütternd, zu sehen, wie die Menschenseelen, die zwischen dem Tode und einer neuen Geburt leben, gleichsam hineilen zu den schlafenden Menschenseelen und nach den Gedanken und Ideen suchen, welche in den schlafenden Menschenseelen sind: denn von diesen nähren sie sich, und sie brauchen diese Nahrung. Wenn wir nämlich des Abends einschlafen, können wir schon sagen: da beginnen die Ideen, die Gedanken, die während unseres Wachzustandes durch unser Bewußtsein gegangen sind, zu leben, werden gleichsam lebendige Wesen. Und die toten Seelen kommen herbei und nehmen Anteil an diesen Ideen. In dem Anblick dieser Ideen fühlen sie sich genährt. Oh, es hat etwas Erschütterndes, wenn man den hellsichtigen Blick richtet auf hingestorbene Menschen, die allnächtlich zu den schlafenden Zurückgebliebenen kommen — wir müssen da sowohl die Freunde als auch besonders die Blutsverwandten in Betracht ziehen — und wollen sich gleichsam laben, nähren an den Gedanken und Ideen, die diese mit in den Schlaf genommen haben — und finden nichts, was für sie nahrhaft ist. Denn es ist ein großer Unterschied zwischen Ideen und Ideen in bezug auf unsern Schlafzustand. Wenn wir den ganzen Tag über uns nur beschäftigen mit den materiellen Ideen des Lebens, wenn wir die Blicke nur richten auf dasjenige, was in der physischen Welt vor sich geht und dort verrichtet werden kann, und wenn wir nicht einmal vor dem Einschlafen einen Gedanken haben an die geistigen Welten, sondern im Gegenteil in vieler Beziehung anders als durch Gedanken uns in die geistigen Welten hinüberbringen, so bieten wir keine Nahrung für die Toten. — Ich kenne Gegenden in Europa, wo die jungen Leute an den Hochschulen so erzogen werden, daß sie sich in Schlaf bringen, indem sie sich die sogenannte Bettschwere mit dem nötigen Quantum Bier antrinken. Das ist ein Hinüberbringen von Ideen, die nicht leben können drüben. Und wenn dann die toten Seelen herankommen, dann finden sie ein leeres Feld, dann geht es diesen toten Seelen so, wie es uns geht für unsern physischen Leib, wenn durch Unfruchtbarkeit auf unsern Feldern Hungersnot ausbricht. Namentlich in unserer Zeit kann viel Seelenhungersnot beobachtet werden in den geistigen Welten, denn das materialistische Fühlen und Empfinden hat viel Verbreitung schon gefunden. Und es gibt ja heute schon zahlreiche Menschen, die es als kindisch empfinden, sich mit Gedanken an die geistige Welt zu befassen. Sie entziehen dadurch Menschen, die von ihnen Nahrung bekommen sollen nach dem Tode, diese Nahrung, diese Seelennahrung.
Damit man dieses Faktum richtig versteht, muß erwähnt werden, daß man sich nach dem Tode nähren kann von den Ideen und Gedanken nur derjenigen Seelen, mit denen man irgendwie im Leben im Zusammenhang war. Von denjenigen, mit denen man gar keinen Zusammenhang hatte, kann man sich nach dem Tode nicht nähren. Wenn wir in unserer heutigen Zeit, um wiederum spirituell Lebendiges in den Seelen zu haben, von dem sich die Toten nähren können, Geisteswissenschaft verbreiten, dann arbeiten wir wirklich nicht bloß für die Lebenden, nicht bloß darum, daß die Lebenden eine theoretische Befriedigung haben, sondern wir versuchen unsere Herzen und Seelen anzufüllen mit Gedanken der geistigen Welt, weil wir wissen, daß die Toten, die mit uns auf der Erde verbunden waren, nach dem Tode von diesen Ideen und diesen Empfindungen für das spirituelle Leben sich nähren müssen. Wir fühlen uns heute nicht nur als Arbeiter für die sogenannten lebenden Menschen, sondern zugleich auch als Arbeiter so, daß die geisteswissenschaftliche Arbeit, die Verbreitung des anthroposophischen Lebens auch den geistigen Welten dient. Wir schaffen, indem wir zu den Lebenden sprechen für deren Tagesleben, durch die spirituelle Seelenbefriedigung für das Nachtleben solche Ideen, die fruchtbare Nahrung für die Seelen sind, die früher hinzusterben als wir das Karma haben. Und deshalb ist der Drang vorhanden, nicht nur auf dem gewöhnlichen Wege äußerer Mitteilung die Geisteswissenschaft oder Anthroposophie zu verbreiten, sondern das liegt, man möchte sagen, insgeheim auf dem Grunde unserer Sehnsucht, diese Geisteswissenschaft oder Anthroposophie in Gesellschaften, in Zweigen zu verbreiten, weil es einen Wert hat, daß persönlich physisch in Gemeinsamkeit, in Gesellschaft diejenigen Menschen zusammen sind, die Geisteswissenschaft treiben. Denn ich habe ja gesagt, daß man als Toter nur Nahrung schöpfen kann von den Seelen, mit denen man zusammen war im Leben. Wir suchen die Seelen zusammenzubringen, um das Saatfeld für die Toten immer größer und größer zu machen. Gar mancher Mensch, der heute, wenn er dahingestorben ist, kein Saatfeld findet, weil seine Familie nur aus Materialisten besteht, findet es bei jenen Seelen der Anthroposophen, weil er mit Geisteswissenschaft zusammengebracht worden ist. Das ist der tiefere Grund, warum wir gesellschaftsmäßig arbeiten, warum wir eine gewisse Sorge haben, daß derjenige, der dahinstirbt, bevor er hinstirbt, kennenlernen kann Menschen, die sich noch auf Erden mit spirituellen Dingen beschäftigen; denn daraus kann er Nahrung schöpfen, wenn diese Menschen im schlafenden Zustand sind.
In alten Zeiten der Menschheitsentwickelung, wo noch ein gewisses religiöses, spirituelles Leben die Seelen durchzog, waren es die religiösen Gemeinschaften und besonders die Blutsverwandten, bei denen die Zuflucht nach dem Tode gesucht worden ist. Aber die Kraft der Blutsverwandtschaft hat abgenommen, und ersetzt werden muß diese immer mehr und mehr durch die Pflege des spirituellen Lebens, wie wir es versuchen. So sehen wir, daß uns die Anthroposophie versprechen kann, daß ein neues Band, eine neue Brücke geschaffen werde zwischen den Lebenden und den Toten, daß wir gewissermaßen für die Toten durch die Anthroposophie etwas sein können. Und wenn wir heute schon mit dem hellsichtigen Blick zuweilen Menschen finden in dem Leben zwischen Tod und einer neuen Geburt, die das Unglück erleben, daß diejenigen, die sie gekannt haben, auch die Nächststehenden, nur materialistische Gedanken haben, dann erkennen wir die Notwendigkeit des Durchsetzens der Erdenkultur mit geistigen, spirituellen Gedanken. Wenn man so kennenlernt zum Beispiel einen Menschen, der vor einiger Zeit gestorben ist, wenn man ihn findet in der geistigen Welt, und man hat ihn gekannt, als er hier auf Erden lebte, und er hat gewisse Glieder seiner Familie zurückgelassen, die man auch kannte, seine Frau, Kinder — im äußern Sinne gute Menschen, die einander wirklich liebten —, und dann findet man jetzt mit dem hellsichtigen Blick den Vater, der dahingestorben ist, dem die Gattin vielleicht wie eine Art Lebenssonne war, wenn er im Leben nach Hause kam von der schweren Arbeit, dann findet man, daß er, weil diese Gattin keine spirituellen Gedanken im Kopf und im Herzen haben kann, nicht in die Seele dieser Gattin hineinschauen kann, und daß er frägt, wenn er dazu in der Lage ist: Ja, wo ist denn meine Gattin? — Er sieht nur zurück in die Zeit, in der er auf Erden mit ihr vereint war. Da wo er sie aber am meisten sucht, weiß er sie nicht zu finden. Das kann auch passieren. Es gibt ja heute schon viele Menschen, welche gewissermaßen glauben, daß der Tote eben in eine Art von Nichts eingegangen sei, die nur mit ganz materialistischem Denken, nicht mit einem fruchtbaren Gedanken an den Toten denken können. Bei diesem Hinschauen auf die Gebiete des Lebens zwischen dem Tode und einer neuen Geburt, auf jemanden, von dem man weiß: er ist noch unten auf der Erde, er hat einen lieb gehabt, aber er verbindet damit nicht den Glauben an die Fortdauer der Seele nach dem Tode, da kann allerdings, gerade in dem Augenblicke nach dem Tode, wo man die meiste Aufmerksamkeit darauf richtet — durch dieses Hinschauen-Wollen auf den Lebenden, den man geliebt hat —, aller Blick ersterben. Und man kann nicht finden den noch Lebenden, kann mit ihm in keinen Zusammenhang kommen, von dem man aber weiß, daß er dasein könnte, wenn in der Seele des Lebenden da unten spirituelle Gedanken wären. Das ist ein häufiges, schmerzliches Erlebnis für die Toten. Und so kann es vorkommen — von dem hellsichtigen Blick kann das beobachtet werden, wie mancher dahinstirbt und Hindernisse findet in den besten Absichten durch die Haßgedanken, die ihn verfolgen, und keinen Trost findet in den Liebegedanken derjenigen, die ihn auf Erden geliebt haben, da er sie nicht wahrnehmen kann wegen ihres Materialismus.
Diese Gesetze der geistigen Welt, die man auf diese Weise mit dem hellsichtigen Blick beobachtet, sind tatsächlich unbedingt gültig. Sie sind so unbedingt gültig, wie ein Fall lehrt, der öfters zu beobachten gelungen ist. Es war lehrreich, zu beobachten, wie Haßgedanken oder wenigstens Antipathiegedanken wirken, selbst da, wo sie nicht mit vollem Bewußtsein gehegt werden! Schullehrer kann man beobachten, die gewöhnlich streng genannt werden, die sich nicht die Liebe ihrer noch jungen Schüler zuziehen konnten — da sind es gleichsam unschuldige Antipathie- und Haßgedanken. Wenn ein solcher Lehrer stirbt, so sieht man, wie er auch in diesen Gedanken, die ja bleiben, Hindernisse hat für seine guten Absichten in der geistigen Welt. Das Kind, der junge Mensch, gibt sich oftmals nicht die Rechenschaft, wenn der Lehrer gestorben ist, daß er nicht mehr hassen soll, sondern er behält das auf naturgemäße Weise bei in dem bleibenden Gefühl, wie der Lehrer ihn gequält hat. Durch solche Einblicke erfährt man viel über die Wechselbeziehung zwischen Lebenden und Toten.
Und nichts anderes versuchte ich eigentlich auseinanderzusetzen, um etwas erwähnen zu dürfen vor Ihnen, was wirklich wie ein gutes Ergebnis geisteswissenschaftlichen Strebens sich entwickeln kann. Ich meine das sogenannte Vorlesen den Toten. Man kann nämlich in der Tat, wie es sich gezeigt hat gerade innerhalb unserer anthroposophischen Bewegung, außerordentliche Dienste leisten den vor uns hingestorbenen Menschenseelen, wenn wir ihnen von spirituellen Dingen vorlesen. Das kann so gemacht werden, daß man die Gedanken an den Verstorbenen richtet und, um eine Erleichterung zu haben, versucht, ihn zu denken, wie man sich seiner erinnert: vor einem stehend oder sitzend. Man kann das mit mehreren zugleich machen. Man liest dann nicht laut vor, sondern verfolgt mit Aufmerksamkeit die Gedanken, immer mit dem Gedanken an den Toten: der Tote steht vor mir. Das ist Vorlesen den Toten. Man braucht kein Buch zu haben, aber man darf nicht in abstrakter Weise denken, sondern muß tatsächlich jeden Gedanken durchdenken: so liest man vor den Toten. Man kann es sogar so weit bringen, obzwar das schwieriger ist, daß, wenn man innerhalb einer gemeinsamen Weltanschauung, oder über irgendein Gebiet des Lebens überhaupt, einen gemeinsamen Gedanken mit dem Toten gehabt hat und eine persönliche Beziehung zu ihm hatte, man auch einem Fernerstehenden vorlesen kann. Das geschieht so, daß er durch den warmen Gedanken, den man an ihn richtet, nach und nach auf einen aufmerksam wird. So kann es sogar nützlich werden, wenn man Fernerstehenden nach ihrem Tode vorliest. Dieses Vorlesen kann zu jeder Zeit geschehen. Ich bin schon gefragt worden, zu welcher Stunde man das am besten tut. Das ist ganz unabhängig von der Stunde. Man muß nur die Gedanken wirklich durchdenken. Oberfläche genügt nicht. Wort für Wort muß man die Sachen durchgehen, wie wenn man es innerlich aufsagen würde. Dann lesen die Toten mit. Und es ist auch nicht richtig, wenn man glaubt, daß solches Vorlesen nur denjenigen nützlich sein kann, welche der Geisteswissenschaft im Leben nahegetreten sind. Das braucht durchaus nicht der Fall zu sein.
Einer unserer Freunde wurde vor einiger Zeit, vielleicht nicht einmal vor einem Jahre, zugleich mit seiner Frau, jede Nacht beunruhigt. Sie fühlten eine Beunruhigung. Und da vor kurzer Zeit der Vater des Betreffenden gestorben war, so hatte unser Freund sogleich die Meinung, daß der Vater etwas wolle, sich als Seele bei ihm melde. Und als unser Freund mit mir zu Rate gegangen war, da stellte es sich heraus, daß der Vater, der im Leben von Geisteswissenschaft nichts wissen wollte, nach dem Tode das lebendigste Bedürfnis hatte, von Geisteswissenschaft etwas zu erfahren. Und als dann der Sohn mit seiner Frau zusammen den Zyklus über das Johannes-Evangelium, den ich einmal in Kassel gehalten habe, dem Vater vorlas, war diese Seele in hohem Grade befriedigt, fühlte sich über manche Disharmonien, die sie vorher kurz nach dem Tode empfunden hatte, herausgehoben. Das ist in diesem Falle deshalb bemerkenswert, weil die betreffende Seele diejenige eines Predigers war, der seinen religiösen Standpunkt immer und immer vor den Menschen vertreten hat, nach dem Tode aber nur befriedigt sein konnte durch das Mitlesenkönnen einer geisteswissenschaftlichen Auseinandersetzung über das Johannes-Evangelium. So sehen wir, daß durchaus nicht notwendigerweise derjenige, dem wir helfen wollen, dem wir dienen wollen nach dem Tode, im Leben Anthroposoph gewesen zu sein braucht, obwohl wir natürlich diesem ganz besonders dienen werden, wenn wir ihm vorlesen.
Aber wir lernen auch, wenn wir eine solche Tatsache betrachten, über die Seele des Menschen überhaupt etwas anders denken, als man das gewöhnlich tut. Die Menschenseelen sind nämlich viel komplizierter, als man gewöhnlich denkt. Was sich bewußt abspielt, das ist wirklich eigentlich nur ein kleiner Teil des menschlichen Seelenlebens. Vieles spielt sich ab in den unterbewußten Tiefen der Seele, von dem der Mensch höchstens etwas ahnt, aber in dem hellen Tagesbewußtsein kaum etwas weiß. Und das Entgegengesetzte kann sich oftmals abspielen im unterbewußten Leben, das Entgegengesetzte von dem, was der Mensch glaubt oder denkt im Oberbewußtsein. Ein sehr häufiger Fall ist der, daß ein Mitglied einer Familie zur Geisteswissenschaft herankommt. Ein Bruder oder ein Mann oder eine Frau, mit dem die Betreffenden verbunden sind, die werden immer antipathischer und antipathischer gesinnt gegen die Geisteswissenschaft, oftmals zornig und immer zorniger, wütig und immer wütiger, weil der Gatte oder der Bruder oder die Gattin zur Geisteswissenschaft gekommen sind. Es entwickelt sich dann oft viel Antipathie gegen die Geisteswissenschaft in einer solchen Familie, so daß es manche Menschen aus diesem Grunde schwierig haben, weil gute Freunde oder Verwandte oftmals sehr zornig und wütig werden. Wenn man solche Seelen untersucht, so hat man oftmals die Erkenntnis, daß in den unterbewußten Tiefen einer solchen Seele die tiefste Sehnsucht nach der Geisteswissenschaft sich entwickelt. Manchmal ist solch eine Seele sehnsüchtiger nach der Geisteswissenschaft als derjenige, der mit seinem Oberbewußtsein ein eifriger Besucher der geisteswissenschaftlichen Versammlungen ist. Aber der Tod hebt ja die Decke von dem Unterbewußtsein weg, der Tod gleicht solche Dinge in merkwürdiger Weise aus. Im Leben kommt es häufig vor, daß sich jemand betäubt gegen dasjenige, was im Unterbewußtsein ist, und die Menschen sind wirklich da, die eigentlich Sehnsucht, tiefste Sehnsucht hätten nach der Geisteswissenschaft, aber sie betäuben sich. Indem sie gegen die Geisteswissenschaft toben, betäuben sie ihre Sehnsucht und täuschen sich über sie hinweg. Da tritt aber nach dem Tode die Sehnsucht um so gewaltiger hervor. Und gerade oftmals bei solchen, die im Leben gegen die Geisteswissenschaft gewütet haben, stellt sich nach dem Tode die heftigste Sehnsucht nach ihr ein. Daher versäumen Sie es nicht, gerade gegenüber solchen Toten, die im Leben die Geisteswissenschaft bekämpft haben, das Vorlesen vorzunehmen! Sie werden ihnen damit vielleicht dann oftmals gerade den allergrößten Dienst tun.
Eine Frage, die im Zusammenhang mit alledem sehr häufig sich ergibt, ist diese: Ja, wie kann man wissen, ob der Tote wirklich zuhören kann? Nun, ohne den hellsichtigen Blick ist es schwierig, das zu wissen, obwohl man sich allmählich, wenn man sich mit dem Andenken an die Toten beschäftigt, von einem Gefühl wird überrascht finden: der Tote hört zu. Man wird dieses Gefühl nur dann nicht haben, wenn man unaufmerksam ist und auf jene eigentümliche Wärme nicht achtet, die sich oft beim Vorlesen verbreitet. Man kann sich wirklich ein solches Gefühl aneignen. Kann man das aber nicht tun, meine lieben Freunde, so muß gesagt werden, daß in dem Verhalten zur geistigen Welt ja auch in diesem Falle eine Regel zur Anwendung kommen muß, die oftmals berücksichtigt werden muß. Das ist die Regel: Ja, wenn wir vorlesen dem Toten, so nützen wir ihm unter allen Umständen, wenn er uns hört! Hört er uns nicht, so erfüllen wir erstens unsere Pflicht, bringen es vielleicht dazu, daß er uns doch hört, sonst aber gewinnen wir wenigstens etwas, erfüllen uns mit Gedanken und Ideen, die ja ganz gewiß Nahrung sein werden für die Toten in der zuerst angedeuteten Weise. Also verloren ist unter allen Umständen nichts. Aber die Praxis hat gezeigt, daß tatsächlich dieses Vernehmen dessen, was vorgelesen wird, von seiten der Toten etwas außerordentlich Verbreitetes ist, daß ein ungeheurer Dienst geleistet werden kann denjenigen, denen wir in dieser Weise das, was heute an geistiger Weisheit herangezogen werden kann, vorlesen.
So dürfen wir hoffen, daß die Scheidewand zwischen Lebenden und Toten immer geringer und geringer wird, indem sich die Geisteswissenschaft über die Welt hin verbreitet. Und wahrhaftig, es wird ein schöner, ein herrlicher Erfolg der Geisteswissenschaft sein, so paradox das klingen mag, wenn in der Zukunft die Menschen wissen werden — aber praktisch wissen werden, nicht nur theoretisch: es ist eigentlich nur eine Verwandlung des Erlebens, wenn man durch den sogenannten Tod gegangen ist, und man ist beisammen auch mit den Toten; man kann sie sogar teilnehmen lassen an demjenigen, woran man selber teilnimmt im physischen Leben. Man macht sich eine falsche Vorstellung von dem Leben zwischen Tod und einer neuen Geburt, wenn man etwa die Frage stellen würde: Ja, wozu braucht man den Toten vorzulesen? Wissen sie das denn nicht aus eigener Anschauung, was der Mensch hier auf der Erde vorlesen kann, wissen sie das nicht viel besser? Dieses frägt allerdings nur derjenige, der da nicht in der Lage ist zu beurteilen, was man eben in der geistigen Welt erfahren kann. Sehen Sie, man kann ja auch in der physischen Welt sein, ohne das Wissen der physischen Welt zu erfahren. Wenn man nicht in der Lage ist, dies oder jenes zu beurteilen, so erfährt man eben das Wissen von der physischen Welt nicht. Die Tiere leben ja mit uns auch zusammen in der physischen Welt und wissen doch nicht das von ihr, was wir Menschen wissen. Daß ein Toter in der geistigen Welt lebt, das macht noch nicht, daß er auch von dieser geistigen Welt etwas weiß, obzwar er sie anschauen kann. Dasjenige, was in der Geisteswissenschaft erworben wird, das wird nur auf der Erde als Wissen erworben, es kann nur auf der Erde erworben werden, es kann nicht in der geistigen Welt erworben werden. Es muß daher, wenn es eben von Wesen in der geistigen Welt gewußt werden soll, durch diejenigen Wesen erfahren werden, die es selbst auf der Erde erfahren. Das ist ein bedeutsames Geheimnis der geistigen Welten, daß man in diesen sein kann, sie anschauen kann, daß aber dasjenige, was als Wissen über die geistigen Welten notwendig ist, auf der Erde erworben werden muß.
Ja, meine lieben Freunde, etwas muß ich Ihnen da sagen in bezug auf die geistigen Welten, was in mancher Beziehung weiterklingen wird und ausgeführt werden wird in unserer morgigen Betrachtung, von dem man sich gewöhnlich nicht eine rechte Vorstellung macht. Wenn der Mensch in der Zeit zwischen Tod und einer neuen Geburt in der geistigen Welt lebt, so richtet er auf unsere physische Welt sein Sehnen ungefähr so hin, wie hier in einer gewissen Weise der physische Mensch sein Sehnen richtet nach der geistigen Welt. Und was der Mensch zwischen Tod und einer neuen Geburt von den Menschen auf der Erde erwarten muß, das ist, daß diese Menschen ihm von der Erde aus zeigen und auferglänzen lassen dasjenige, was nur auf der Erde erworben werden kann. Die Erde ist wahrhaftig im spirituellen Weltendasein nicht umsonst gegründet worden. Sie ist in das Leben gerufen worden, damit dasjenige entstehen kann, was nur auf der Erde möglich ist. Wissen von der geistigen Welt, das über das Anschauen, das Anstarren der geistigen Welten hinausgeht, ist nur auf der Erde möglich. Und wenn ich früher gesagt habe, daß die geistigen Wesenheiten der geistigen Welten unsere Bücher nicht lesen können, so muß ich jetzt sagen: Dasjenige, was in uns als Geisterkenntnis lebt, das ist für die geistigen Wesenheiten und auch für unsere eigenen Seelen nach dem Tode, was für den physischen Menschen die Bücher hier auf unserer Erde sind, was für den physischen Menschen dasjenige ist, wodurch er etwas über die Welt erfährt. Nur sind diese Bücher, die wir selber sind für die Toten, eben lebendig. Fühlen Sie dieses gewichtige Wort, daß wir den Toten gewissermaßen die Lektüre geben müssen! Unsere Bücher sind ja in einer Beziehung geduldiger, unsere Bücher bringen es nicht zustande, daß sie zum Beispiel ihre Buchstaben verschlucken in das Papier hinein, während wir sie lesen. Wir Menschen entziehen den Toten dadurch oftmals die Lektüre, daß wir uns nur mit dem, was wirklich unsichtbar ist in den geistigen Welten, daß wir uns nur mit materiellen Gedanken anfüllen. Das muß ich sagen, weil die Frage oftmals auftaucht, ob denn die Toten nicht selber wissen könnten, was wir ihnen geben können. Das können sie nicht, weil Geisteswissenschaft nur auf der Erde gegründet werden kann und von dort aus hinaufgetragen werden muß in die geistigen Welten.
Und wenn wir nun die geistigen Welten selber betreten und ein wenig dieses Leben in den geistigen Welten erfahren, dann treten uns da ganz andere Verhältnisse entgegen als hier im physischen Leben der Erde. Deshalb ist es auch so außerordentlich schwierig, in Menschenworten und Menschengedanken hereinzuholen diese Verhältnisse der geistigen Welten. Und es klingt manchmal so paradox, wenn man versucht, sich konkret auszusprechen über die Verhältnisse in den geistigen Welten. Sehen Sie, da wüßte ich Ihnen von einem Wesen zu erzählen, um nur eines herauszugreifen, von einer gestorbenen Menschenseele, mit der zusammen es mir gelungen ist, einiges zu erforschen in der geistigen Welt, weil sie besondere Kunde von ihm hatte, über den Maler Lionardo da Vinci, namentlich über dasjenige, wie das berühmte Bild in Mailand ausgesehen hat. Wenn man mit einer solchen Seele gemeinschaftlich eine geistige Tatsache durchsucht, da kann einen eine solche Seele auf manches hinweisen, was man sonst vielleicht durch den bloßen hellsichtigen Blick nicht finden würde in der Akasha-Chronik. Die Menschenseele aber, die in der geistigen Welt ist, kann darauf hinweisen. Sie wird einen aber nur dann hinweisen können, wenn man Verständnis hat für dasjenige, worauf sie einen hinweisen will. Da stellt sich etwas Eigentümliches heraus. Nehmen wir an, man erforscht mit einer solchen Seele die Art, wie geschaffen hat Lionardo da Vinci sein berühmtes Abendmahl in Mailand. Von dem, was heute dieses Bild ist, bekommt man kaum viel mehr zu sehen als einige Farbenflecken. Aber man kann den malenden Lionardo in der Akasha-Chronik beobachten, kann beobachten, wie dieses Bild war, obwohl das nicht leicht ist. Wenn man es so macht, daß man mit einer Seele, die nicht verkörpert ist, aber einen Zusammenhang hat mit Lionardo da Vinci und seiner Malerei, forscht, so sieht man, daß diese Seele einem dies oder jenes zeigt. Sie konnte zum Beispiel verständlich machen, wie eigentlich das Christusgesicht und das Judasgesicht waren auf diesem Bilde. Aber man merkt, die Seele könnte einem das nicht zeigen, wenn nicht in dem Augenblicke, wo sie es zeigt, Verständnis einziehen würde in die Seele des lebenden Forschers. Dieses Verständnis braucht die Seele. Und die tote Seele lernt selber erst verstehen, was sie sonst nur anschaut, in dem Augenblick, wo die lebende Menschenseele sich belehren läßt. Daher sagt einem, der Ausdruck ist ja symbolisch, eine solche Seele, nachdem man etwas mit ihr zusammen erfahren hat, was man nur so erfahren kann: Du hast mich hierher gebracht zu dem Bilde — das sagt die Seele zum Lebenden dadurch, daß der Lebende das Bedürfnis hatte, das Bild zu erforschen — und nun fühle ich den Drang, mit dir zusammen das Bild zu erschauen. — So sagt die tote Seele, und dann wird mancherlei durchgemacht. Aber es kommt ein Moment, wo die tote Seele entweder plötzlich nicht mehr da ist oder sagt, jetzt müsse sie fort. In diesem Falle, den ich eben erzähle, sagte die tote Seele zum Beispiel: Während Lionardo da Vincis Seele bis jetzt wohlgefällig hierher gesehen hat, will sie jetzt nicht mehr, daß weitergeforscht werde.
Ich will damit etwas sehr Wichtiges aus dem geistigen Leben schildern. Wie man nämlich im physischen Leben immer weiß, was man ansieht, wie man immer weiß: man sieht das oder jenes, man sieht die Rose, man sieht den Tisch — so weiß man im geistigen Leben immer: dies oder jenes Wesen sieht einen an. Man geht durch die geistigen Welten und hat immer das Gefühl: jetzt schauen dich diese Wesen an. Während man in der physischen Welt das Bewußtsein hat, man geht durch die Welt wahrnehmend, hat man in der geistigen Welt das Erlebnis: du wirst jetzt von diesem, dann von jenem gesehen. Man fühlt sich fortwährend Blicken ausgesetzt, die einen zugleich aber zum Entschluß bringen, irgend etwas zu tun. Indem man weiß: man wird jetzt wohlgefällig angesehen oder nicht, damit man etwas tun solle oder nicht, so tut man es oder tut es nicht. Wie man nach einer Blume greift, die einem gefällt, weil man sie gesehen hat, so tut man in der geistigen Welt etwas, weil es irgendein Wesen gerne sieht, wohlgefällig sieht, oder man unterläßt es, weil man nicht aushalten kann den Blick, der hingewendet wird auf diese Tat. Das ist etwas, was man sich durchaus aneignen muß. Man hat dort das Gefühl, daß man selber gesehen wird, wie man hier das Gefühl hat, daß man sieht. Es ist in einer gewissen Weise dort passiv, was hier aktiv ist, wie dort wiederum aktiv ist, was hier passiv ist. — Daraus sehen Sie, daß man sich gewissermaßen ganz andere Begriffe aneignen muß, wenn man in der richtigen Weise Schilderungen aus der geistigen Welt auffassen will. Und Sie werden daher begreifen, wie schwierig es ist, in gewöhnliche Menschenworte zu prägen dasjenige, was man so gerne als Schilderungen der geistigen Welten geben möchte. So werden Sie begreifen, wie notwendig es ist, daß für viele Dinge erst das nötige vorbereitende Verständnis geschaffen werde.
Ich möchte nur noch auf eines aufmerksam machen. Es könnte die Frage entstehen: Ja, warum schildert die geisteswissenschaftliche Literatur so im allgemeinen das, was so unmittelbar nach dem Tode in der geistigen Welt geschieht, was im Kamaloka, was im Geisterlande geschieht, und warum wird so wenig von einzelnen hellsichtigen Einblicken geschildert? Denn es könnte ja jemand leicht glauben, daß man einen einzelnen, bestimmten Toten nach dem Tode leichter beobachten könnte als dasjenige, was im allgemeinen geschildert wird. So ist es nicht. Und um anzudeuten, wie es ist, möchte ich einen Vergleich gebrauchen. Es ist dem richtig entwickelten Hellsehen leichter, die großen Verhältnisse zu überschauen — wie den Durchgang der Menschenseele durch den Tod, wie sie durch Kamaloka in das Devachan hinaufkommt -—, als irgendein einzelnes Erlebnis einer einzelnen Seele zu überschauen. Geradeso, wie es leichter ist, in der physischen Welt dasjenige zu erkennen, was etwa sozusagen unter dem Einflusse der großen Himmelsbewegungen steht, und schwieriger dasjenige, was in einer gewissen Weise unregelmäßig zu den großen Himmelsbewegungen steht. Nun wird jeder von Ihnen für den morgigen Tag leicht voraussagen können, daß die Sonne morgens aufgehen wird und abends wieder untergehen wird. Das wird jeder ungefähr wissen. Was morgen aber für Wetter sein wird, das wird schon weniger genau gewußt werden. So ist es mit dem Hellsehen auch. Die Verhältnisse, die wir gewöhnlich in den Schilderungen über die geistigen Welten geben, sind zu vergleichen mit dem Wissen über den allgemeinen Gang der Himmelskörper; die weiß man zuerst im hellseherischen Bewußtsein. Und man kann immer rechnen darauf, daß die Ereignisse sich im allgemeinen so vollziehen. Die einzelnen Ereignisse aber in dem Leben zwischen Tod und einer neuen Geburt sind wie die Wetterverhältnisse hier auf der Erde, die selbstverständlich auch gesetzmäßig sind, aber eben schwieriger zu erkennen auch auf der Erde selber; denn man kann ja nicht von jedem Orte wissen, was für ein Wetter an einem anderen Orte ist. So ist es eben nun einmal. Es ist schwierig, hier zu wissen, wie das Wetter in Berlin ist, nicht aber, wie dort die Sonne oder der Mond stehen. Es gehört eine besondere Ausbildung der hellsichtigen Gabe dazu, da es schwieriger ist, das einzelne Leben nach dem Tode zu verfolgen als den allgemeinen Gang der Menschenseele. Und auf dem richtigen Wege erwirbt man sich das Wissen von den allgemeinen Verhältnissen zuerst, und zuallerletzt erwirbt man sich, wenn es durch Schulung errungen wird, dasjenige, was ja am leichtesten scheint. Man kann lange schon sehr richtig sehen in bezug auf Kamaloka und Devachan und es doch außerordentlich schwierig haben, zu sehen, wieviel es auf der eigenen Uhr ist, die man in der Tasche hat. Die Dinge in der physischen Welt sind für die hellseherische Schulung die allerschwierigsten. Gerade das Umgekehrte ist im Erkennenlernen der höheren Welten der Fall. Irrtümern gibt man sich auf diesem Gebiete aus dem Grunde hin, weil ja auch noch ein natürliches Hellsehen vorhanden ist, und dieses zwar unsicher ist, mannigfachen Irrtümern unterworfen ist, aber es kann lange vorhanden sein, ohne daß man den hellsichtigen Blick für die allgemeinen Verhältnisse hat, die in der Geisteswissenschaft geschildert werden, die dem geschulten Hellseher leichter sind.
Das sind die Dinge, die ich Ihnen heute in bezug auf die geistigen Welten schildern wollte. Morgen wollen wir diese Betrachtungen fortsetzen und etwas vertiefen.
The Lively Interaction Between the Living and the Dead
I warmly return the kind greetings just expressed by your representative. And I am convinced that those friends who have come here with me to this city to cultivate anthroposophical life with our friends in Bergen wholeheartedly join in this welcome. The journey here through the mountains, which seem so friendly and magnificent to us, has undoubtedly been beautiful, and I believe that our friends will feel at home in this old Hanseatic city during the days they are here. Not only did the marvel of human engineering that is the railroad on which we traveled give us an intimate impression, especially in this region, that one rarely experiences in other parts of Europe, but we were also confronted with the energetic creative power of humanity in its original natural state: when you see how stones that had to be broken to achieve what the human spirit has achieved today lie right next to others that nature has piled up, you get impressions that can truly make a visit to such a country one of the most wonderful things you can do today. In this ancient city, our friends will enjoy the days we are allowed to spend here and will remember them especially because of the sublime backdrop to our stay. They will be days to remember. But they will be memorable above all because we have been able to see with our own eyes that here too, in this region, we can find anthroposophical hearts that beat with ours in the pursuit of the spiritual treasures of humanity. Visitors to this city will certainly feel even closer, even dearer, even more precious to those who have welcomed us so warmly here.
Since this is, in a sense, our first time together here, what I would like to discuss will be of an aphoristic nature. I would like to discuss some things from the spiritual world that are easier and better said orally than can be recorded in writing. It is easier to say orally, not only because it is still difficult in many respects, given the prejudices of the world today, to entrust to writing everything that one would gladly entrust to anthroposophically devoted hearts, but also because spiritual truths are really better expressed orally than entrusted to writing and printing. This must apply especially to the more intimate spiritual truths. One always has a somewhat bitter feeling, even though in our time it is necessary that these things be written down and printed; it is always unfortunate to write down and have printed the more intimate spiritual truths that relate to the higher spiritual worlds themselves. This is awkward for the simple reason that writing and printing belong to the realm of things which the beings of which we speak, the spiritual beings, cannot read. Books cannot be read in the spiritual world. Books can still be read by us for a short time after our death from memory, but the beings of the higher hierarchies cannot read our books. And if you ask whether they do not want to acquire this art of reading, I must confess, according to my experience, that they show no desire to do so for the time being, because they do not find it necessary or useful for themselves to read what has been produced on earth. The reading of spiritual beings only begins when people on earth read the books, that is, when what is written in the books becomes living thought in people, then the spirits read in people's thoughts. But what is written or printed is like darkness to the beings of the spiritual world, so that one has the feeling, in relation to these spiritual beings, that when one confides something to writing or to print, one is communicating behind the backs of the spiritual beings. This is a real feeling that a cultured person of the present day may not entirely share; but every true occultist will have this feeling of aversion to writing and printing.
When we penetrate the spiritual worlds with clairvoyant vision, it seems to us particularly important, especially in the present, that, starting from the present and continuing into the near future, knowledge of the spiritual world should spread more and more, because much will depend on this dissemination of spiritual science in relation to an increasingly necessary change in human soul life. You see, when we go back in time with our spiritual gaze, when we go back only a few centuries, we find something with our spiritual gaze that can be quite surprising to the uninitiated. Namely, we find that communication between the living and the dead is becoming increasingly difficult, that even in relatively recent times the living interaction between the living and the dead was much more active. When Christians in the Middle Ages, or even in centuries not so long past, directed their prayers to the memory of their relatives or acquaintances who had died, the feelings and emotions of such a person praying were much more powerful than they are today in reaching the souls of the deceased. In the past, the soul of the deceased felt much more easily permeated by the warm breath of love from those who looked up to it or thought of it in prayer than is the case today, when we devote ourselves only to external temporal activities. And again, today the dead are much more cut off from the living than was the case even a relatively short time ago. Today, the dead have a much more difficult time, so to speak, of perceiving what is alive in the souls of those left behind. This lies in the evolution of humanity. But it must also lie in the evolution of humanity to find this connection, this living communication between the living and the dead, once again. In earlier times, a living connection with the dead was still natural to the human soul, even if it was no longer fully conscious, because humans have not been clairvoyant for a long time. In even earlier times, the living could still look up clairvoyantly to the dead and follow the life of the dead. Just as it was natural for the soul in earlier times to have a living interaction with the dead, so today the soul can, by acquiring thoughts and ideas about the higher, spiritual worlds, find the strength again to establish communication with the dead, to establish a living interaction. And among the practical tasks of anthroposophical life will be to build more and more bridges between the living and the dead through spiritual science.
So that we understand each other correctly, I would first like to draw attention to a few things in the interaction between the living and the dead. I would like to start with a very simple phenomenon and follow it up with spiritual research. Souls that sometimes consult with themselves a little will be able to observe the following — I believe that many souls have observed this in themselves: Let us suppose that someone hated another person in life, or perhaps only had to tell themselves that they found this other person unpleasant. When this person who was hated or toward whom someone felt antipathy dies — I believe that many souls know this from their own experience — then the person who hated or felt antipathy during their lifetime, upon learning of their death, feels that they can no longer hate this personality in the same way or maintain their antipathy. And if the hatred continues beyond the grave, then more sensitive souls feel shame about such hatred, about such antipathy that lasts beyond the grave. This feeling, which is found in many souls, can now be clearly observed. During research, one may ask oneself: Why does this feeling of shame arise in the soul toward hatred or antipathy, why does it arise when one has never even hinted to a second person in one's life that one has this hatred?
When the clairvoyant follows the person who has passed through the gate of death into the spiritual worlds and takes a look at the soul that has remained here on earth, it turns out that, in general, the deceased soul has a very clear perception, a very clear feeling of the hatred in the living soul; as if, if I may use an image: the dead person sees the hatred. The clairvoyant can state quite precisely that the dead person sees such hatred. But we can also trace what such hatred means for the dead. For the dead, such hatred is an obstacle to the good intentions in their spiritual development, an obstacle that can be compared to obstacles we may encounter in achieving an external goal on earth. This is the fact in the spiritual world that the deceased finds hatred as an obstacle to his good and best intentions. And now we understand why, in a soul that consults with itself a little, even hatred that was justified in life dies away: because it feels shame when the hated person has died. If a person is not clairvoyant, he does not know what is going on, but it is planted in his soul as if by a natural feeling that he is being watched; he feels that the dead person sees his hatred, and that this hatred is even an obstacle to his good intentions. There are many deep feelings in the human soul that can be explained when one ascends into the spiritual worlds and contemplates the spiritual facts that underlie these feelings. Just as one does not want to be observed outwardly and physically in certain situations on earth, or does not do certain things when one knows one is being observed, so one does not hate beyond death when one has the feeling that one is being observed by the dead. But the love or even just the sympathy we feel for the dead is actually a relief for them on their way, removing obstacles for them. What I am saying now, that hatred creates obstacles in the beyond and love removes them, is not a breaking of karma, just as many things happen here on earth that we cannot immediately attribute to karma. If we stub our toe on a stone, we do not always have to take that into account in karma, at least not in moral karma. Likewise, it does not contradict karma if the dead feel relieved by the love that flows to them from the earth, and if they encounter obstacles to their good intentions.
Something else that one might say speaks more forcefully to souls in relation to communication between the dead and the living is that dead souls also need nourishment in a certain sense, though not nourishment as humans need it on Earth, but spiritual-soul nourishment. Just as it is a fact that we humans on earth—if I may use this comparison—must have our seed fields on which the fruits that sustain us physically on earth can grow, so the souls of the dead must have seed fields on which they can harvest certain fruits that they need in the time between death and a new birth. When the clairvoyant gaze follows the souls of the dead, it sees how the sleeping human souls are the seedbed for the dead, for those who have passed away. It is certainly not only surprising, but even highly shocking for those who see this for the first time in the spiritual world, to see how the human souls that live between death and a new birth rush, as it were, to the sleeping human souls and search for the thoughts and ideas that are in the sleeping human souls: for they feed on these, and they need this nourishment. For when we fall asleep in the evening, we can already say that the ideas and thoughts that passed through our consciousness while we were awake begin to live, becoming, as it were, living beings. And the dead souls come and take part in these ideas. At the sight of these ideas, they feel nourished. Oh, it is something shocking when one directs one's clairvoyant gaze upon people who have died and who come every night to those who remain asleep — we must consider here both friends and especially blood relatives — and want, as it were, to refresh themselves, to nourish themselves on the thoughts and ideas that the latter have taken with them into sleep — and find nothing that is nourishing for them. For there is a great difference between ideas and ideas in relation to our state of sleep. If we spend the whole day preoccupied with the material ideas of life, if we fix our gaze only on what is happening in the physical world and what can be accomplished there, and if we do not even think about the spiritual worlds before falling asleep, but on the contrary, in many ways transport ourselves into the spiritual worlds by means other than thoughts, then we offer no nourishment for the dead. I know regions in Europe where young people at universities are educated in such a way that they put themselves to sleep by drinking the necessary amount of beer to make themselves sleepy. This is a transfer of ideas that cannot live over there. And when the dead souls then approach, they find an empty field, and these dead souls experience what we experience for our physical bodies when famine breaks out in our fields due to infertility. Especially in our time, much spiritual famine can be observed in the spiritual worlds, because materialistic feelings and perceptions have already become widespread. And there are already numerous people today who consider it childish to concern themselves with thoughts about the spiritual world. In doing so, they deprive people who are supposed to receive nourishment from them after death of this nourishment, this soul nourishment.
In order to understand this fact correctly, it must be mentioned that after death one can only feed on the ideas and thoughts of those souls with whom one was somehow connected in life. One cannot feed after death on those with whom one had no connection whatsoever. If, in our time, we spread spiritual science in order to have spiritual life in our souls again, from which the dead can feed, then we are not working merely for the living, not merely for the theoretical satisfaction of the living, but we are trying to fill our hearts and souls with thoughts of the spiritual world, because we know that the dead, who were connected with us on earth, must feed on these ideas and these feelings for spiritual life after death. Today we feel that we are not only workers for the so-called living human beings, but at the same time workers in such a way that spiritual scientific work, the spread of anthroposophical life, also serves the spiritual worlds. By speaking to the living for their daily life, we create, through spiritual soul satisfaction for their night life, ideas that are fruitful nourishment for souls that die earlier than we do according to our karma. And that is why there is an urge not only to spread spiritual science or anthroposophy in the usual way of external communication, but also, one might say, secretly at the bottom of our longing, to spread this spiritual science or anthroposophy in societies, in branches, because it is valuable for those who pursue spiritual science to be together personally, physically, in community. For I have said that as a dead person one can only draw nourishment from the souls with whom one was together in life. We seek to bring souls together in order to make the seedbed for the dead ever larger and larger. Many a person who, when they die today, finds no seedbed because their family consists only of materialists, finds it among the souls of anthroposophists because they have been brought into contact with spiritual science. This is the deeper reason why we work socially, why we are concerned that those who die may, before they die, get to know people who are still engaged with spiritual things on earth; for they can draw nourishment from this when these people are asleep.
In ancient times, when a certain religious, spiritual life still permeated the souls, it was the religious communities and especially blood relatives who were sought as a refuge after death. But the power of blood ties has diminished and must be replaced more and more by the cultivation of spiritual life, as we are trying to do. Thus we see that anthroposophy can promise us that a new bond, a new bridge will be created between the living and the dead, that we can, in a sense, be something for the dead through anthroposophy. And when we already find today, with clairvoyant vision, people in the life between death and a new birth who experience the misfortune that those who knew them, even their closest relatives, have only materialistic thoughts, then we recognize the necessity of permeating the earthly culture with spiritual thoughts. If, for example, you get to know a person who died some time ago, if you find him in the spiritual world, and you knew him when he was here on earth, and he left behind certain members of his family whom you also knew, his wife, children — in the outer sense good people who really loved each other — and then you find with clairvoyant vision the father who has died, for whom his wife was perhaps like a kind of sun in his life when he came home from his hard work, then you find that because this wife cannot have spiritual thoughts in her head and in her heart, he cannot look into the soul of this wife, and that he asks, if he is able to do so: Yes, where is my wife? — He only looks back to the time when he was united with her on earth. But where he seeks her most, he does not know where to find her. This can also happen. There are already many people today who believe, in a sense, that the dead have simply entered a kind of nothingness, who can only think in a completely materialistic way and cannot entertain fruitful thoughts about the dead. When looking at the realm of life between death and a new birth, at someone about whom one knows: he is still down on earth, he loved someone, but you do not associate this with a belief in the continuation of the soul after death, then it is possible, especially in the moment after death, when you focus most of your attention on this—through this desire to look at the loved one who has died—that all sight fades away. And one cannot find the one who is still alive, cannot connect with them, even though one knows that they could be there if there were spiritual thoughts in the soul of the living down below. This is a frequent and painful experience for the dead. And so it can happen — the clairvoyant gaze can observe how some people die and encounter obstacles to their best intentions due to the hateful thoughts that pursue them, and find no comfort in the loving thoughts of those who loved them on earth, because they cannot perceive them due to their materialism.
These laws of the spiritual world, which can be observed in this way with clairvoyant vision, are indeed absolutely valid. They are as absolutely valid as a case that has been observed frequently teaches us. It was instructive to observe how thoughts of hatred, or at least thoughts of antipathy, work even where they are not held with full consciousness! School teachers who are usually considered strict and who have been unable to win the love of their young pupils can be observed—there are, as it were, innocent thoughts of antipathy and hatred. When such a teacher dies, one sees how these thoughts, which remain, are obstacles to his good intentions in the spiritual world. The child, the young person, often does not realize when the teacher has died that he should no longer hate, but instead retains this feeling in a natural way in the lasting impression of how the teacher tormented him. Through such insights, one learns a great deal about the interrelationship between the living and the dead.
And that is all I really wanted to discuss in order to mention something to you that can truly develop into a good result of spiritual scientific endeavour. I am referring to what is known as reading aloud to the dead. For it has been shown, particularly within our anthroposophical movement, that we can render extraordinary services to the souls of those who have died before us by reading spiritual things aloud to them. This can be done by directing one's thoughts to the deceased and, in order to make it easier, trying to think of them as one remembers them: standing or sitting in front of you. This can be done with several people at the same time. One does not read aloud, but follows the thoughts attentively, always with the thought of the deceased in mind: the deceased is standing in front of me. This is reading aloud to the dead. You do not need to have a book, but you must not think in an abstract way; you must actually think through every thought: this is how you read aloud to the dead. You can even go so far, although this is more difficult, that if you shared a common worldview with the deceased, or had a common interest in some area of life, and had a personal relationship with them, you can also read aloud to someone who was distant from them. This happens because they gradually become aware of you through the warm thoughts you direct toward them. So it can even be useful to read aloud to people who are distant from you after their death. This reading aloud can be done at any time. I have already been asked what time of day is best for this. It is completely independent of the hour. One must only really think through the thoughts. Superficiality is not enough. One must go through the things word for word, as if reciting them inwardly. Then the dead read along. And it is also not correct to believe that such reading aloud can only be useful to those who have been close to spiritual science in life. That is by no means the case.
One of our friends, perhaps not even a year ago, was disturbed every night, along with his wife. They felt uneasy. And since the father of the person concerned had died recently, our friend immediately thought that the father wanted something, that he wanted to make himself known to him as a soul. And when our friend consulted me, it turned out that the father, who had wanted nothing to do with spiritual science during his life, had the most vivid desire after death to learn something about spiritual science. And when the son and his wife read to the father the cycle on the Gospel of John that I once gave in Kassel, the soul was highly satisfied and felt lifted out of some of the disharmony it had felt shortly after death. This is remarkable in this case because the soul in question was that of a preacher who had always and everywhere defended his religious standpoint before people, but after death could only find satisfaction in being able to read a spiritual scientific discussion of the Gospel of John. So we see that it is not necessarily the case that those whom we want to help, whom we want to serve after death, need to have been anthroposophists in life, although we will of course serve them particularly well if we read to them.
But when we consider such a fact, we also learn to think about the human soul in a completely different way than we usually do. Human souls are much more complicated than we usually think. What takes place consciously is really only a small part of human soul life. Much takes place in the subconscious depths of the soul, of which the human being has at most a vague inkling, but of which he knows hardly anything in his clear daytime consciousness. And the opposite can often take place in the subconscious life, the opposite of what the human being believes or thinks in his superconsciousness. A very common case is when a member of a family becomes interested in spiritual science. A brother or husband or wife with whom the person concerned is closely connected becomes increasingly hostile toward spiritual science, often angry and increasingly angry, furious and increasingly furious, because their spouse or brother or sister has become interested in spiritual science. A great deal of antipathy toward spiritual science then often develops in such a family, so that some people find it difficult for this reason, because good friends or relatives often become very angry and furious. When one examines such souls, one often finds that in the subconscious depths of such a soul, the deepest longing for spiritual science is developing. Sometimes such a soul longs for spiritual science more than someone who, with their conscious mind, is an avid visitor to spiritual science gatherings. But death lifts the veil from the subconscious; death balances such things in a remarkable way. In life, it often happens that someone numbs themselves against what is in the subconscious, and there are indeed people who actually have a longing, a deepest longing for spiritual science, but they numb themselves. By raging against spiritual science, they numb their longing and deceive themselves about it. But after death, the longing emerges all the more powerfully. And it is often precisely those who raged against spiritual science in life who experience the most intense longing for it after death. Therefore, do not neglect to read aloud to those dead who fought against spiritual science in life! In doing so, you will often be doing them the greatest service of all.
A question that arises very frequently in connection with all this is this: How can one know whether the dead can really hear? Well, without clairvoyance it is difficult to know, although gradually, when one occupies oneself with the memory of the dead, one is surprised by a feeling: the dead are listening. One will not have this feeling unless one is inattentive and does not notice the peculiar warmth that often spreads when reading aloud. You can really acquire this feeling. But if you cannot do so, my dear friends, then it must be said that in our behavior toward the spiritual world, even in this case, a rule must be applied that must often be taken into account. The rule is this: Yes, when we read aloud to the dead, we are helping them under all circumstances, if they can hear us! If they do not hear us, we first fulfill our duty, perhaps causing them to hear us after all, but otherwise we at least gain something, filling ourselves with thoughts and ideas that will certainly be nourishment for the dead in the manner indicated above. So nothing is lost under any circumstances. But practice has shown that hearing what is read aloud is actually extremely common among the dead, and that an enormous service can be rendered to those to whom we read aloud in this way what can be drawn from spiritual wisdom today.
We may therefore hope that the barrier between the living and the dead will become smaller and smaller as spiritual science spreads throughout the world. And truly, it will be a beautiful, a glorious success of spiritual science, paradoxical as it may sound, when in the future people will know — but know practically, not just theoretically: that passing through so-called death is really only a transformation of experience, and that we are still together with the dead; we can even allow them to participate in what we ourselves participate in during physical life. One has a false idea of life between death and a new birth if one were to ask, for example: Why is it necessary to read aloud to the dead? Don't they know from their own experience what human beings can read aloud here on earth? Don't they know that much better? However, only those who are unable to judge what can be experienced in the spiritual world ask such questions. You see, it is possible to be in the physical world without experiencing the knowledge of the physical world. If you are not able to judge this or that, then you do not experience the knowledge of the physical world. Animals also live with us in the physical world, yet they do not know what we humans know about it. The fact that a dead person lives in the spiritual world does not mean that he knows anything about this spiritual world, even though he can see it. What is acquired in spiritual science is acquired only on earth as knowledge; it can only be acquired on earth; it cannot be acquired in the spiritual world. Therefore, if it is to be known by beings in the spiritual world, it must be experienced by those beings who themselves experience it on earth. This is a significant secret of the spiritual worlds, that one can be in them, can see them, but that what is necessary as knowledge about the spiritual worlds must be acquired on earth.
Yes, my dear friends, I must tell you something about the spiritual worlds that will resonate in many ways and will be explained in tomorrow's reflection, something that people usually do not have a correct understanding of. When a human being lives in the spiritual world between death and a new birth, he directs his longing toward our physical world in much the same way as the physical human being here directs his longing toward the spiritual world. And what human beings must expect from people on Earth between death and a new birth is that these people will show them from Earth and let shine forth to them that which can only be acquired on Earth. The Earth was truly not created in vain in the spiritual world. It was brought into being so that what is only possible on Earth could come into being. Knowledge of the spiritual world that goes beyond looking at and staring at the spiritual worlds is only possible on Earth. And if I said earlier that the spiritual beings of the spiritual worlds cannot read our books, I must now say: What lives in us as spiritual knowledge is for the spiritual beings and also for our own souls after death what books here on Earth are for physical human beings, what physical human beings use to learn about the world. Only these books, which are ourselves, are alive for the dead. Feel the weight of these words: we must, in a sense, give the dead something to read! Our books are more patient in one respect: they do not swallow their letters into the paper while we read them. We humans often deprive the dead of reading by filling ourselves only with what is truly invisible in the spiritual worlds, by filling ourselves only with material thoughts. I must say this because the question often arises as to whether the dead themselves might not know what we can give them. They cannot, because spiritual science can only be founded on earth and must be carried up from there into the spiritual worlds.
And when we enter the spiritual worlds ourselves and experience a little of this life in the spiritual worlds, we encounter conditions that are completely different from those here in the physical life on earth. That is why it is so extraordinarily difficult to convey the conditions of the spiritual worlds in human words and thoughts. And it sometimes sounds so paradoxical when one tries to speak concretely about the conditions in the spiritual worlds. You see, I could tell you about one being, to pick just one example, about a deceased human soul with whom I was able to explore a number of things in the spiritual world because she had special knowledge about the painter Leonardo da Vinci, namely about what the famous painting in Milan looked like. When one investigates a spiritual fact together with such a soul, it can point out many things that one would not otherwise find in the Akashic Record through mere clairvoyance. But the human soul that is in the spiritual world can point this out. However, it can only point it out if one has an understanding of what it wants to point out. Something peculiar emerges here. Let us assume that you are researching with such a soul the way in which Leonardo da Vinci created his famous Last Supper in Milan. From what this painting is today, you can hardly see much more than a few patches of color. But you can observe Leonardo painting in the Akashic Records; you can observe what this painting was like, although this is not easy. If you do this by researching with a soul that is not embodied but has a connection to Leonardo da Vinci and his painting, you will see that this soul shows you this or that. For example, it could make it understandable what the faces of Christ and Judas actually looked like in this painting. But you realize that the soul could not show you this unless, at the moment when it shows it, understanding entered into the soul of the living researcher. The soul needs this understanding. And the dead soul itself only learns to understand what it otherwise only looks at in the moment when the living human soul allows itself to be taught. Therefore, after one has experienced something with such a soul that can only be experienced in this way, the soul says, symbolically: You have brought me here to this picture — the soul says this to the living person through the fact that the living person felt the need to study the picture — and now I feel the urge to contemplate the picture together with you. — So says the dead soul, and then all sorts of things are experienced. But there comes a moment when the dead soul is suddenly no longer there or says that it must now leave. In the case I am describing, the dead soul said, for example: While Leonardo da Vinci's soul has looked down here with pleasure until now, it no longer wants further investigation.
I want to describe something very important from spiritual life. Just as in physical life you always know what you are looking at, just as you always know that you see this or that, you see the rose, you see the table — so in spiritual life you always know that this or that being is looking at you. You walk through the spiritual worlds and always have the feeling that these beings are looking at you. While in the physical world you are conscious that you are walking through the world perceiving things, in the spiritual world you have the experience that you are now being seen by this being, then by that being. You feel constantly exposed to gazes that at the same time prompt you to decide to do something. Knowing that you are being looked at favorably or not, that you should do something or not, you do it or you don't. Just as you reach for a flower that you like because you have seen it, so in the spiritual world you do something because some being likes to see it, sees it favorably, or you refrain from doing it because you cannot bear the gaze that is directed at this action. This is something that must be learned. There, one has the feeling that one is being seen, just as here one has the feeling that one is seeing. In a certain sense, what is active here is passive there, and what is passive here is active there. From this you can see that one must acquire completely different concepts if one wants to understand descriptions of the spiritual world in the right way. And you will therefore understand how difficult it is to express in ordinary human words what one would so much like to give as descriptions of the spiritual worlds. You will thus understand how necessary it is that the necessary preparatory understanding be created for many things.
I would just like to draw your attention to one more thing. The question may arise: Why does spiritual scientific literature generally describe what happens immediately after death in the spiritual world, what happens in Kamaloka, what happens in the spirit world, and why is so little described about individual clairvoyant insights? For someone could easily believe that it would be easier to observe a single, specific dead person after death than what is generally described. This is not the case. And to indicate how it is, I would like to use a comparison. It is easier for correctly developed clairvoyance to survey the great relationships—such as the passage of the human soul through death, how it ascends through Kamaloka into Devachan—than to survey any single experience of a single soul. Just as it is easier to recognize in the physical world that which is, so to speak, under the influence of the great movements of the heavens, and more difficult to recognize that which is in a certain way irregular in relation to the great movements of the heavens. Now, each of you can easily predict that tomorrow the sun will rise in the morning and set again in the evening. Everyone knows this approximately. But what the weather will be like tomorrow is less precisely known. So it is with clairvoyance. The conditions we usually give in descriptions of the spiritual worlds are comparable to the knowledge of the general course of the heavenly bodies; this is known first in clairvoyant consciousness. And one can always count on events generally taking place in this way. But the individual events in the life between death and a new birth are like the weather conditions here on earth, which are of course also governed by laws, but are more difficult to recognize even on earth itself; for one cannot know from every place what the weather is like in another place. That is simply the way it is. It is difficult to know here what the weather is like in Berlin, but not how the sun or moon are positioned there. It requires special training of the clairvoyant gift, since it is more difficult to follow the individual life after death than the general course of the human soul. And on the right path, one first acquires knowledge of the general conditions, and last of all, if it is achieved through training, one acquires that which seems easiest. One can see very correctly for a long time with regard to Kamaloka and Devachan and yet find it extremely difficult to see what time it is on one's own watch in one's pocket. Things in the physical world are the most difficult for clairvoyant training. The opposite is true when learning to recognize the higher worlds. Errors are made in this area because natural clairvoyance still exists, and although this is uncertain and subject to many errors, it can exist for a long time without one having the clairvoyant view of the general conditions described in spiritual science, which are easier for the trained clairvoyant.
These are the things I wanted to describe to you today in relation to the spiritual worlds. Tomorrow we will continue these considerations and go into them in greater depth.