When I came into contact with anthroposophy 25 years ago, I was particularly alienated by the cult of personality surrounding Rudolf Steiner.
I heard anecdotes of ladies in purple gowns who came to the “initiate” for advice on their inner development. I visited the Memorial Grove in Dornach with a reverent friend and didn’t really know how to take it all in. Open-mindedness seemed to be paired with a prohibition on contradiction, with the tenet that you just didn’t understand yet. During this time, I also dreamt that I had an audience with the “Doctor.” I opened the door to a room, waiting curiously to see what I would encounter. Rudolf Steiner was sitting behind a heavy desk. He looked at me objectively, soberly, without appearing cold, but also without any intention to please, and asked directly: “What is your question?” In that moment, my position as a simple observer immediately ended. I felt like I was being spoken to from a sphere that was still too big for me at the age of 21. I hadn’t even sat down when I was already waking up, terrified, because I had no question.
For the next twenty years or so, I was searching for “my” question. There were always questions, but what question would I ask Rudolf Steiner? Feeling for this still brings me closer to the mystery of anthroposophy today. “My” question is one that addresses my personal experience as a human being in its particular form and development. But, at the same time, “my” question must include the general experience of being a human being, albeit in the way the general reveals itself through me as an individual. “My” question is a kind of signature that I carry through life, and it can even determine my path. Perhaps it determines “my” field of human activity, the stage upon which I act and want to act.
Three or four years ago, my question flashed across my mind in relation to my work with the weekly journal Das Goetheanum. There are so many different views, claims, evaluations, opinions, and approaches involved with Das Goetheanum, with the “anthroposophical human being,” and with the Goetheanum itself—in all, with understanding the world. How can I accept all human beings and not undervalue anyone? How can I perceive everyone with love as an individual seeker, and as a seeker who wants to be taken seriously? What part of me is capable of doing this?
Please let me know your question, dear reader. I would be interested to know how you would fare in the same unexpected situation. Would you know what to ask? Perhaps one hundred years after Steiner’s death, a collection of good questions for the world will emerge.
This year, we are bringing you a series of articles titled “Rudolf Steiner as…” to honor the 100th anniversary of Rudolf Steiner’s death. These articles are sometimes essays, sometimes simply thoughts or reflections, but always an aspect of his being.
Translation Joshua Kelberman
