Come Follow Yourself Vol 01 08

Eighth Discourse from the series of 10 discourses - Come Follow Yourself Vol 01 by Osho.
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The first question:
How can one who has been trained all his life to analyze and question and doubt be brought to bridge the gap between doubt and trust?
Doubt is beautiful in itself. The problem arises when you are stuck in it; then doubt becomes death. Analysis is perfect if you remain separate and aloof from it. If you become identified then the problem arises, then analysis becomes a paralysis. If you feel that you have been trained to analyze, question, and doubt – don’t get miserable. Doubt, analyze, question, but remain separate. You are not the doubt; use it as a methodology, a method. If analysis is a method, then synthesis is also a method. And analysis in itself is half; unless it is complemented by synthesis, it will never be the whole. You are neither analysis nor synthesis. You are just a transcendental awareness.
To question is good, but a question is obviously half. The answer will be the other half. Doubt is good, but one part; trust is another part. But remain aloof. When I say “remain aloof,” I say remain aloof not only from doubt but from trust also. That too is a method. One has to use it, one should not allow oneself to be used by it – then a tyranny arises and the tyranny can be either of doubt or of trust.
The tyranny of doubt will cripple you. You will never be able to move a single step because doubt will be everywhere. How can you do anything while there is doubt? That will cripple you. And if trust becomes a tyranny – and it can become, it has become for millions: the churches, the temples, the mosques are full of those people for whom trust has become a tyranny – then it doesn’t give you eyes, it blinds you. Then religion becomes a superstition.
If trust is not a method and you are identified with it, then religion becomes superstition and science becomes technology. Then the purity of science is lost and the purity of religion is also lost. Remember this: doubt and trust are like two wings. Use both of them, but you are neither.
A man of discretion, a man who is wise, will use doubt if his search is toward matter. If his inquiry is about the outside, the other, he will use doubt as the method. If his search is toward the inner, toward himself, then he will use trust. Science and religion are two wings.
In India we have tried one foolishness. Now the West is committing another. In India we have tried to live only by trust; hence the poverty, the starvation, the misery. The whole country is like a wound, continuously suffering. And the suffering has been so long that people have even become accustomed to it, they have accepted it so deeply that they have become insensitive to it. They are almost dead: they drift, they are not alive. This happened because of the tyranny of trust. How can a bird fly with one wing?
Now in the West another tyranny is happening, the tyranny of doubt. It works perfectly well as far as objective inquiry is concerned. You think about matter, doubt is needed; it is a scientific method. But when you start moving inward it simply doesn’t work, it doesn’t fit. There trust is needed.
The perfect man will be a man who has a deep harmony of doubt and trust. A perfect man will look inconsistent to you, but he is not inconsistent; he is simply harmonious. Contradictions dissolve in him. He uses everything.
If you have doubt, use it for scientific inquiry. And watch great scientists: by the time they reach their age of understanding and wisdom, by the time their youthful enthusiasm is gone and wisdom settles, they are always very deep in trust. Eddington, Einstein, Lodge – I’m not talking about mediocre scientists who are not scientists at all – but all the great pinnacles in science are very religious. They trust because they have known doubt, they have used doubt, and they have come to understand that doubt has its limitations.
It is just like my eyes can see and my ears can hear; if I try to hear from my eyes then it is going to be impossible, and if I try to see by my ears then it is going to be impossible. The eye has its own limitation, the ear has its own limitation. They are experts, and every expert has a limitation. The eye can see, and it is good that it can only see because if the eye could do many things, then it would not be so efficient in seeing. In the eye the whole energy becomes sight, and the whole energy in the ear becomes hearing.
Doubt is an expert. It works if you are inquiring about the world. But when you start inquiring about God through the same method, then you are using a wrong method. The method was perfectly suited to the world, to the world of law, but it is not suited to the world of love. For the world of love, trust is needed.
Nothing is wrong in doubt, don’t be worried about it. Use it well, use it in the right direction. If you use it in the right direction and use it well, you will come to an understanding: you will come to a doubt of doubt itself. You will see that you become doubtful of doubt. You will see where it works and where it doesn’t work. When one comes to that understanding, one opens the door of trust.
If you are trained for analysis – good. But don’t be caught in it, don’t allow it to become a bondage. Remain free to synthesize also because if you go on analyzing and analyzing and you never synthesize, you will come to the minutest part, but you will never come to the whole.
God is the ultimate synthesis; the atom, the ultimate analysis. Science reaches to the atom: it goes on analyzing, dividing until finally it comes to the minutest part which cannot be divided anymore. And religion comes to God: it goes on adding, synthesizing. God is the ultimate synthesis; more cannot be added to it. It is already the whole. Nothing exists beyond it. Science is atomic; religion is “wholly.” Use both.
I am always in favor of using everything that you have. Even if you have some poison I will say, “Preserve it, don’t throw it.” In some need it can become medicinal; it depends on you. You can commit suicide by a poison, and by the same poison you can be saved from dying. The poison is the same; the difference is right use. Everything depends on right use. So when you go to the lab use doubt, when you come to the temple use trust. Be loose and free so that when you go from the lab to the temple you don’t carry the lab around with you. Then you can enter the temple totally free of the lab, to pray, dance, sing. And when you move toward the lab, again leave the temple behind because dancing in the lab will be very absurd, you may destroy things.
Bringing the serious face that you use in the lab to the temple won’t be appropriate. A temple is a celebration, a lab is a search. Search has to be serious, celebration is a play. You delight in it, you become children again. A temple is a place to become children again and again so you never lose touch with the original source. In the lab you are an adult, in the temple you are a child. And Jesus says, “The kingdom of God is for those who are like children.”
Remember always not to throw away anything that existence has given to you, not even doubt. It must be existence that has given it to you, and there must be a reason behind it because nothing is given without reason. There must be a use for it.
Don’t discard any stone, because many times it has happened that the stone that was discarded by the builders became the very cornerstone of the building in the end.

The second question:
The Bible uses the word repent. Sometimes you translate it as return, sometimes as answer and sometimes you leave it as repent. Do you change the meaning as you need it?
I am not talking about the Bible at all. I am talking about me. I am not confined by the Bible; I am not a slave to any scripture. I am totally free and I behave as a free man.
I love the Bible, the poetry of it, but I am not a Christian. Neither am I a Hindu, nor am I a Jaina. I am simply me. I love the poetry, but I sing it in my own way. Where I should emphasize what, is finally decided by me, not by the Bible. I love the spirit of it, not the letter. And the word that I translate sometimes as repent, sometimes as return, and sometimes as answer means all three things. That is the beauty of old languages. Sanskrit, Hebrew, Arabic: all the old languages are poetic. When you use a poetic language it means many things. It says more than the words contain and it can be interpreted in different ways. It has many levels of meaning.
Sometimes the word means repent. When I am talking about sin and I use the word repent, it means repent. When I am talking about God calling you, then the word repent means answer, it means responsibility: God has asked, you answer. And when I say that the kingdom is at hand, the word means return. All three meanings are there. The word is not one-dimensional, it is three-dimensional. All the old languages are three-dimensional. Modern languages are one-dimensional because our insistence is not on poetry, but on prose. Our insistence is not on multi-meaningfulness, but exactness. The word should be exact, it should only mean one thing so that there is no confusion. Yes, that’s right. If you are writing about science the language has to be exact, otherwise confusion is possible.
It happened in the Second World War: an American general wrote a letter to the emperor of Japan, before Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The letter was in English and it was translated into Japanese, which is more poetic, more flowery, and one word means many things.
A certain word was translated in a certain way. It could have been translated in some other way also; it depended on the translator. Now they have been inquiring about it, and they have come to the conclusion that if it had been translated in the other way that was also possible, there would have been no Hiroshima and no Nagasaki.
The American general meant something else, but the way it was translated it was felt to be an insult. The Japanese emperor simply declined to answer it, it was too insulting. And Nagasaki and Hiroshima happened, the atom bomb had to be dropped. If the emperor had replied to it, there would have been no need for Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Just a word translated in a different way and one lakh people died within minutes, within seconds. Very costly – just a single word. Words can be dangerous.
In politics, in science, in economics, in history, words should be linear, one-dimensional. But if the whole language becomes one-dimensional, then religion will suffer very much, poetry will suffer very much, romance will suffer very much because for poetry a word should be multi-dimensional. It should mean many things so that the poetry has a depth and you can go on and on and on.
That’s the beauty of old books. You can go on reading the Gita every day, you can go on reading the gospels every day, and every day you can come upon a new and fresh meaning. You may have read the same passage a thousand times and it never occurred to you that this can be the meaning. But this morning it occurred; you were in a different mood, you were happy, flowing: a new meaning arises. Some day you are not so happy, not so flowing, the meaning changes. The meaning changes according to you, according to your mood and climate.
You carry an inner climate that goes on changing just like the outer climate. Have you watched it? Sometimes you are sad and you look at the moon and the moon looks sad, very sad. You are sad and a fragrance comes from the garden and it seems very sad. You look at the flowers: rather than making you happy, they make you heavy. Then in another moment you are happy, alive, flowing, smiling. The same fragrance comes and surrounds you, dances around you, and makes you tremendously happy. The same flower, and when you see it opening, something opens within you also. The same moon, and you cannot believe how much silence and how much beauty descends on you. There is a deep participation: you become partners in some deep mystery. But it depends on you. The moon is the same, the flower is the same; it depends on you.
Old languages are very flowing. In Sanskrit there are words: one word can have twelve meanings. You can go on playing with it and it will reveal many things to you. It will change with you, it will always adjust to you. That’s why great works of classical literature are eternal. They are never exhausted.
Today’s newspaper will be worthless tomorrow because it has no vitality of meaning. It simply says what it means, it has nothing more in it. Tomorrow you will look foolish reading it. It is ordinary prose; it gives you information but it has no depth, it is flat.
Two thousand years have passed since Jesus spoke, and his words are still as alive and fresh as ever. They are never going to be old. They don’t age, they remain fresh and young. What is their secret? The secret is that they mean so many things that you can always find a new door in them. It is not a one-room apartment. Jesus says, “My God’s house has many mansions.” You can enter from many doors, and there are always new treasures to be revealed, to be discovered. You never come on the old landscape again. It has a certain infinity. That’s why I go on changing. Yes, whenever I feel, I change the meaning. But that is the way Jesus himself has done it.
In translating the Hebrew Bible into English, much has been lost. In translating the Gita into modern languages, much has been lost. In translating the Koran, the whole beauty is gone because the Koran is poetry. It is something to be sung, it is something you should dance with. It is not prose. Prose is not the way of religion; poetry is the way.
Remember this always and don’t get confined. Jesus is vast and the English Bible is very small. I can understand the resistance of old people that their books should not be translated. It has a deep significance. You can translate prose, there is no trouble. If you want to translate a book on the theory of relativity into any language, it may be difficult but the difficulty is not the same as it is with the Bible, the Gita, or the Koran. It can be translated, nothing will be lost; it has no poetry in it. But when you translate poetry, much will be lost because each language has its own rhythm and each language has its own ways of expression. Each language has its own meter and music; it cannot be translated into another language. That music will be missed, that rhythm will be missed. You will have to replace it with some other rhythm and some other music. So it is possible: ordinary poetry may be translated. But when the poetry is really superb, of the other world – the deeper and greater it is – the more difficult, almost impossible, it is.
I treat Jesus as a poet, and he is. Van Gogh said about him that he is the greatest artist that has ever been on this earth. He is. He talks in parables and poetry, and he means many more things than his words can convey. Allow me to give you the feeling of that infinity of meanings.
Poetry is not so clear, cannot be. It is a mystery. It is just early in the morning: all over you see a mist, fresh…just born, but clouds… You cannot see far away, but there is no need; poetry is not for the far away. It gives you an insight looking at the near and the close and the intimate.
Science goes on searching for the far away; poetry goes on revealing to you in new ways the intimate, the close: that which you had always known, that which is familiar. Poetry reveals the same path that you have been treading all your life, but with a new hue, a new color, a new light. Suddenly you are transported to a new plane.
I treat Jesus as a poet. He is a poet. And this has been much misunderstood. People go on treating him as a scientist. You are fools if you treat him as a scientist; then he will look absurd, then the whole thing will look miraculous. Then if you want to believe in him, you have to be very superstitious. Or you have to throw him out completely, the baby with the bath water. Because either he’s so absurd – you can believe, but then you have to believe very blindly and that belief cannot be natural, spontaneous; you have to force it, you have to believe for the sake of belief and you have to force it on yourself – or you throw him out completely. Both are wrong. Jesus should be loved, not believed. There is no need to think of him for or against.
Have you ever watched? – you never think for or against Shakespeare. Why? You never think for or against Kalidas. Why? You never think for and against Rabindranath. Why? – because you know they are poets. You enjoy them, you don’t think for and against.
With Jesus, Krishna, Buddha, you think for and against because you think they are arguing. Let me tell you: they are not arguing. They have no thesis to prove, they have no dogma. They are great poets – greater than Rabindranath, greater than Shakespeare, greater than Kalidas because what has happened to Rabindranath, Kalidas and Shakespeare is just a glimpse. What has happened to Jesus, Krishna and Buddha is a realization. The same that is a glimpse to a poet is reality to a mystic. They have seen. Not only seen, they have touched. Not only touched, they have lived. It is a live experience.
Always look at them as great artists. A painter simply paints a picture; a poet simply writes a poem. A Jesus creates a human being. A painter changes a canvas. It was plain, ordinary; it becomes precious by his touch. But can’t you see that Jesus touches very ordinary people – a fisherman, Simon called Peter – he touches, and by his very touch this man is transformed into a great apostle, a great human being. A height arises, a depth is opened. This man is no longer ordinary. He was just a fisherman throwing his net into the sea, and he would have done that his whole life, or even for many lives – and would never even have thought, imagined, dreamed what Jesus transformed into a reality.
In India we have a mythology about a stone called paras. The stone paras is alchemical. You touch iron with the paras and it is transformed into gold. Jesus is a paras. He touches ordinary metal and immediately the metal is transformed, it becomes gold. He transforms ordinary human beings into deities, and you don’t see the art in it. Greater art is not possible.
To me, the gospels are poetic. If I speak again on the same gospel, I will not speak the same, remember. I don’t know in what mood, in what climate, I will be then. I don’t know from which door I will enter then. And my house of God has many mansions. It is not finite.

The third question:
Yesterday after the lecture I approached small Siddhartha by the drinking water. Having read what you said about him being one of the ancient ones, I crouched down, looked into his eyes and said, “Osho told me who you are.” He smiled, looked deeply at me, and twice threw water on my head. He then softly hit me on the head and said quietly, “Shut up.” There was silence. It was very beautiful.
It must have been. He baptized you by water. It was a baptism. And he is very innocent, more than John the Baptist. His innocence is very spontaneous.
You should crouch more often before him, and you should allow him to throw water and hit you more. And when he says, “Shut up,” then shut up and remain in silence.
He is a tremendously beautiful child.

The fourth question:
When I reflect on Christ's persecution two thousand years ago, I feel that in the meantime nothing much has changed in people's attitudes toward a living messiah in their midst. Suspicion, cynicism and mistrust seem to be all around just as before. Could it be that you, too, one day will be persecuted by the establishment? Looking around the auditorium, I fancy that I can spot the Doubting Thomas, the John, the Simon Peter, Mary Magdalena, even Judas and the rest of the gang. Could this all be a live-action replay?
It is. They are all here. They have to be, because the gang leader is here and nothing ever changes, all changes are superficial. Deep down, humanity remains the same. It is natural. I’m not condemning it, I’m not saying that anything is wrong in it. It has to be so, that’s the way it is.
When Jesus comes, the Doubting Thomases are bound to be there. When people who trust come, people who can’t trust also come. They create a contrast. And it is good, otherwise your trust will not be of much value. It becomes precious because of the Doubting Thomases around. You can compare, you can feel. You can see what doubt is, what trust is. The weeds will also come when you plant a garden. The weeds are also part. When a Jesus comes, a Judas is bound to be there because the whole thing is so tremendously significant that somebody is bound to betray it. It has such a great height that somebody is bound to feel very hurt by it – the ego.
Judas was hurt very much. And he was not a bad man, remember. In fact he was the only one among all of Jesus’ disciples who was well-educated, cultured, belonged to a sophisticated society and family. He was of course the most egoistic. The others were just fishermen, farmers, carpenters – people like that, ordinary people from the ordinary rung of society. Judas was special, and whenever somebody feels special there is trouble. He even wanted to guide Jesus. Many times he tried. And if you listen to him, there is a possibility that you will be more convinced by Judas than by Jesus.
It happened…

Jesus came to visit the home of Mary Magdalena. Mary was deeply in love. She poured precious, very precious perfume on his feet – the whole bottle. It was rare, it could have been sold. Judas immediately objected. He said, “You should prohibit people from doing such nonsense. The whole thing is wasted, and in town there are people who are poor and who don’t have anything to eat. We could have distributed the money to poor people.”
He looks like a socialist: a forerunner of Marx. Mao, Lenin, Trotsky; all would agree with him.
What did Jesus say? He said, “Don’t worry about it. The poor and the hungry will always be here, but I will be gone. You can serve them always and always, there is no hurry, but I will be gone. Look at the love, not at the precious perfume. Look at Mary’s love, her heart.”

With whom will you agree? Jesus seems to be very bourgeois and Judas seems to be perfectly economical. Judas is talking about the poor and Jesus simply says, “It is okay. I will be gone soon, so let her welcome me as she would like. Let her heart do whatever she wants and don’t bring your philosophy in. Poor people will always be there; I will not be here always. I am only here for a tiny while.”
Ordinarily your mind will agree with Judas. He seems to be perfectly right. He was a very cultured, polished man of manners: sophisticated, a thinker.
And he betrayed. Only he could betray because on each step his ego was hurt. He always felt himself superior to all of Jesus’ disciples. He would always keep himself aloof, he would not move in the crowd. He always thought of himself as not part of the crowd. At the most he was second only to Jesus – and that too, reluctantly. Deep down he must have been thinking himself first. He could not say it, but it was in his heart.
He was madly hurt. Jesus was continuously hurting their egos. A master has to because if a master goes on pampering your egos, he will not be of any help, he will be poisonous. Then you can commit suicide through him, but you cannot resurrect. Of course Judas was the most egoistic, he was hurt more. And Jesus had to hurt him more. Judas took revenge. And he was a good man, there is no doubt about it. That is the problem with good men.
He sold Jesus for thirty rupees. He was so concerned with the perfume and its cost – look at the mind! – and he sold Jesus for thirty rupees, thirty silver pieces. Jesus was not even very costly. But then when Jesus was murdered, crucified, he started feeling guilty. That’s how a good man functions. He started feeling very guilty, his conscience started pricking him. He committed suicide. He was a good man, he had a conscience, but he had no consciousness.
This distinction has to be felt deeply. Conscience is borrowed, given by the society; consciousness is your attainment. The society teaches you what is right and what is wrong: do this and don’t do that. It gives you the law, the morality, the code, the rules of the game. That is your conscience. Outside, the constable; inside, the conscience. That is the way that the society controls you.
If you go to steal, the constable is outside to prevent you. But you can deceive the constable, you can find ways. So the society has placed a deep electrode within you: the conscience. Your hand starts trembling, your whole inner being; you feel that your inner being is saying, “Don’t do this; this is wrong.” This is society speaking through you, this is just society implanted within you.
Judas had a conscience, but Jesus had consciousness. That was the rift. The man of conscience can never understand the man of consciousness because the man of consciousness lives moment to moment, he has no rules to follow.
Jesus was more concerned with the love of the woman Mary. It was such a deep thing that to prevent her would be wounding her love, she would shrink within herself. Pouring the perfume on his feet was just a gesture. Behind it, Mary Magdalena was saying. “I would like to pour the whole of the world on your feet. This is all that I have, the most precious thing. To pour water won’t be enough; it is too cheap. This is the most precious thing that I have, but even this is nothing. I would like to pour my heart, I would like to pour my whole being.”
But Judas was blind toward it. He was a man of conscience: he looked at the perfume and he said, “It is costly.” He was completely blind to the woman and her heart, and the expansion of consciousness and the gesture. Perfume looked too precious and love – love was completely unknown to him. Love was there. The immaterial was there and the material was there. The material is the perfume, the immaterial is the love. But the Judas could not see immaterial. For that, you need eyes of consciousness.
A man of conscience will always be in conflict with a man of consciousness because the man of consciousness sees things which the man of conscience cannot see. And the man of consciousness follows his consciousness: he has no rules to follow.
If you have rules, you are always consistent because rules are dead. You are also dead with them: you are predictable. But if you have consciousness, you are unpredictable. One never knows; you remain a total freedom. You respond, you don’t have any readymade answers to give. When the question arises, you respond and the answer is born. Not only is the listener surprised by your answer, you are also surprised.
When I answer you, it is not only that you are listening to it, I am also a listener. It is not only that you hear it for the first time; I also hear it for the first time. I don’t know what the next word or sentence is going to be. It can move in any direction, it can move in any dimension.
That’s what I mean when I say that I remain a learner. Not only are you learning with me, I am also learning with you. I am never in a state of knowledge because a state of knowledge is dead. You have known something, it is readymade. Now if somebody asks, you can give it to him, it is already material.
I am never in a state of knowledge; I am always in the process of knowing. To be in the process of knowing is what I mean when I say I am learning. Knowledge is already past; knowing is present. Life is not a noun, it is a verb. God is also not a noun, God is a verb. Whatever the grammarians say, I am not concerned. God is a verb, life is a verb.
Knowing, learning, means that you always remain in a vacuum. You never gather anything. You always remain empty like a mirror, not like a photographic plate. A photographic plate immediately comes to a state of knowledge. Once exposed, it is already dead. Now it will never mirror anybody else; it has mirrored once, forever. But a mirror goes on mirroring. When you come before it, it mirrors you. When you are gone, it is again empty.
This is what I mean: a man of learning always remains empty. You raise a question, it is mirrored in my emptiness. An answer comes and flows to you. The question gone, the answer disappears, and the mirror is again in a state of not knowing: empty, again ready to reflect. It is not hindered by its past. It is always in the present and always ready – not readymade, but always ready to reflect, to respond.
When Jesus comes – a man of consciousness; a man of learning, not of knowledge – Judas is bound to be there. He’s the scholar, the man of knowledge. He must have felt many times that he knew more than Jesus, and maybe he is right. He may know more, but he does not know the state of knowing. He knows only knowledge, dead information. He is a collector of dead information. He will betray Jesus. And of course when Jesus is there, there will be women who will love him deeply: a Mary Magdalena, a Martha. They are bound to be there because whenever a man of the quality of Jesus arises, that quality has to be understood first by women and then by men. Trust is the door to it, and women are more trusting, more innocently trusting.
That’s why it is so difficult to find a woman scientist. Sometimes a Madame Curie happens. That must be a freak of nature, or the woman may not have been much of a woman.
Deep down, a woman is a poet – not that she writes poetry, she lives it. And she knows how to trust; it comes easy to her, it comes spontaneously to her. In fact, for a woman to doubt is a difficult training. She will have to learn it from a man, just like she will have to learn science from a man. She is illogical, irrational. Those are not good qualities as far as the world is concerned. They are disqualifications in the world, but as far as the inner kingdom of God is concerned, they are the qualifications.
Of course man cannot have both worlds. At the most he can have one where he’s topmost: he can have the outer world. But then he will have to lose the other; there he cannot be the top, he will have to follow women.
Have you seen Jesus being crucified? No male disciple was near him – only women because the male disciples started doubting. This man cured illnesses, this man revived dead people, and now he cannot save himself? So what is the point of believing and trusting in him? They were waiting for a miracle. They were hiding in the crowd and waiting for a miracle: something miraculous was going to happen. Then they would have believed because they needed proof. And the proof never happened; Jesus simply died like an ordinary man.
The women were not waiting for any proof. Jesus was enough proof, there was no need for any miracle. He was the miracle. They could see the miracle that happened that moment – that Jesus died with such deep love and compassion. Even for his murderers he had a prayer in his heart. His last words were, “God, forgive them because they don’t know what they are doing.”
The miracle had happened, but for the male eye it never happened. The women around there understood immediately. They trusted this man, and this man’s innermost heart was open to them. They understood that the miracle had happened. The man had been crucified and he was dying with love, which is the most impossible thing in the world: to die on the cross with a prayer for those who are killing you. But this was love. Only the feminine mind can understand it. They were close to him.
When Jesus revived, resurrected after the third day, he tried to approach his male disciples. They could not see him because they had settled the fact that he was dead, and you see only things which you expect to see. If you don’t expect, you don’t see.
Your eyes are very choosy. If you are waiting for a friend, you can see him even in a crowd. But if you are not waiting for him, if you have completely forgotten about him, then when he comes and knocks on the door, for a moment you are puzzled: “Who is he?”
They had settled the fact that Jesus was dead, so when Jesus came across their path they could not recognize him, they could not see him. It is even said that he walked for miles with two disciples while they talked about Jesus’ death. They were very miserable because of it – and Jesus was walking with them; they were talking to him, but they could not recognize him. Only love can recognize even after death, because love recognized when you were alive. For love, death and life are irrelevant.

Jesus was recognized first by Mary Magdalena, a prostitute. She came running to the male disciples who were holding a great conference: “What should we do? How can we spread the word to the whole world? How can we create the church?”
While they were planning for the future, she came running and said, “What are you doing? Jesus is alive!”
They laughed. They said, “Mad woman, you must have imagined it!” Man’s mind always thinks that such things are imagination. They started talking to each other: “That poor woman, Mary Magdalena. She has gone mad. Jesus’ crucifixion has been such a shock to her.” They felt pity for her.
She insisted, “Don’t feel pity for me. Jesus is resurrected!”
They laughed and they said, “We understand. You need rest, you are too shocked by the fact that he is dead. It is your imagination.”

Around Buddha, around Krishna, around Jesus, Mahavira, there have always been a great number of women. They were the first-comers, they were the first disciples. It is natural. So don’t be surprised.
For two thousand, or two million years, the human mind will remain the same. Humanity as a whole remains the same. The revolution is individual. You can be transformed as an individual, then you go beyond the crowd. But don’t be worried about such things.
This question is from Chaitanya Sagar. He’s always worried about such things. I never answer him, but he’s always worried: worried about others, worried about the world, he is worried about the organization, worried about the ashram, worried about my disciples, worried about me – never worried about himself. All these worries won’t help. Time is short, life is very short. Use it.

Just the other night I was reading a play by Samuel Beckett: a small book, the smallest possible in the world – a short play. The name of the play is Breath. The length of the whole play is only thirty seconds – thirty seconds! There is no actor in it, no dialogue. Just a stage.
The curtain opens. Many things are lying around. Rubbish – just as if somebody has left the house in a hurry. All sorts of things are jumbled, with no order, just disorder – rubbish. And from the background, the sigh of a small child is heard, just born. Then, after thirty seconds, there is the gasp of an old man who has died. This is all – but this is all life is. Thirty seconds: a sigh and a gasp. The first effort to inhale and the last effort to cling to the breathing – and everything is gone.

Life is short, not even thirty seconds. Use it; use it as an opportunity to grow, use it as an opportunity to be, and don’t be worried about other things. That is all rubbish. Only this is true: the sigh and the gasp, and all else is just rubbish. Forget about it. What do you have to do about it?
You should not be concerned with whether the world has changed or not. The world is the same, it has to be the same. Only you can be different; the world will never be different. When you become aware, conscious, you transcend the world.

The fifth question:
What does Christ really mean when he says, “Come follow me”?
Exactly what he says: “Come follow me.”

The sixth question:
To follow Jesus a deep trust, surrender and love is needed, but today a deep skepticism is prevalent all over the world. What is the way?
This is from Swami Yoga Chinmaya. Think about yourself. Is deep skepticism within you? That is the question to be asked. “…a deep skepticism is prevalent all over the world.” Who are you to be worried about the whole world? This is a way to escape the real problem. Skepticism is deep within, the worm of doubt is there in your heart, but you project it; you see it on the whole world’s screen.
“The world is skeptical… What is the way out?” Now you are transferring the problem. Look within yourself. If there is doubt, find it out. Then something can be done. The world won’t listen to you, and there is no need because if they are happy in their skepticism, they have the right to be happy in their skepticism. Who are you?
Never try to think in terms of missionaries. They are the most dangerous people. They are always saving the world, and if the world doesn’t want to be saved, then still they are trying. They say, “Even if you don’t like it, we will save you.” But why the bother? If somebody is happy eating, drinking, enjoying life, and is not in any way concerned with God, what is the point of forcing him? Who are you? Let him come to his own understanding. One day he will come. But people are very worried about how to save others. Save yourself if you can, save yourself because that too is a very difficult, almost impossible job.
This is a trick of the mind. The problem is inside; it projects it on the outside. Then you are not worried about it, then you are not worried about your own anguish. Then you become concerned with the whole world, and in this way you can postpone your own transformation.
I insist again and again that you should be concerned with yourself. I am not here to make missionaries. Missionaries are the most mischievous people. Never be a missionary; that is a very dirty job. Don’t try to change anybody. Just change yourself.
It happens: when you change, many come to share you in your light. Share, but don’t try to save. Many will be saved that way. If you try to save, you may drown them before they were going to be drowned by themselves.
Don’t try to force God on anybody. If they are doubting, it is perfectly okay. If God allows them to doubt, there must be some reason in it. They need it, that is their training; that is from where everybody has to pass.
The world has always been skeptical. How many people gathered around Buddha? Not the whole world. How many people gathered around Jesus? Not the whole world, just a very small minority; they can be counted on your fingers. The whole world has never been worried about these things.
Nobody has the authority to force something on anybody else – not even on your own child, not even on your own wife. Keep whatever you feel is the goal of your life to yourself. Never force it on anybody else. That is violence, sheer violence.
If you want to meditate, meditate. But this is a problem: if the husband wants to meditate, he tries to force the wife also. If the wife does not want to meditate, she forces the husband also not to meditate. Can’t you allow people their own souls? Can’t you allow them to have their own way?
This I call a religious attitude: to allow freedom. A religious man will always allow freedom to everybody. Even if you want to be an atheist, a theist is going to allow you. That is your way, perfectly good for you. You move through it because everyone who has come to God has come through atheism. The desert of atheism has to be crossed; it is part of growth.
The world will always remain skeptical, in doubt. Only a few attain trust. Make haste so that you can attain.

The seventh question:
Why do you always tell us to be happy if, before enlightenment, one has to reach a peak of pain and anguish?
If I don’t tell you to be happy, you will never reach the peak of pain and anguish. I go on telling you to be happy and the more I say, “Be happy,” the more you become aware of your unhappiness.
The more you listen to me, the more you will find anguish arising. The only way to make you unhappy is to go on constantly forcing on you: be happy! You cannot be, so you feel the unhappiness all around you. Even what you used to think was happiness, even those points disappear and you feel absolutely hopeless. Even momentary happinesses disappear and the desert becomes complete. All hopes and all oases disappear.
That’s where the jump happens. When you are really unhappy, totally unhappy – not even a ray of hope – suddenly you drop all unhappiness. Why? Why does it happen? It happens because unhappiness is not clinging to you; you are clinging to unhappiness. Once you feel the total anguish of it, you drop it. There is nobody to carry it for you.
But you have never felt it so intensely; you have always been lukewarm. You feel a little unhappiness, but always there is a hope for the future. Tomorrow there is going to be happiness – a little desert, but the oasis is coming closer. Through the hope, you go on. Through the hope, the unhappiness remains.
My whole effort is to kill the hope, to leave you in such total darkness that you cannot allow any dream any longer. Once this intensity reaches to the hundredth degree, you evaporate. Then you cannot carry it anymore. Suddenly whatever you call it – unhappiness, the ego, ignorance, unawareness, or what have you, anything that you want to call it – it drops.
I will tell you a story. It happened…

A farmer had a pedigree ram. It was a beautiful animal, but sometimes it got mad and the shepherd who looked after the ram was very worried. He always wanted to get rid of it, but the farmer loved it.
One day it became too much, so the shepherd came and said, “Now you choose: either me or the ram. I resign; take my notice or this ram goes. This is a mad animal and continuously creating trouble. He gets so angry and so dangerous that sometimes one feels that he will kill.”
The farmer now had to decide, so he asked his friends what to do. He never wanted the ram to be sold. They suggested an animal psychologist.
The psychologist was called. The farmer was skeptical, but he wanted to do anything so that the ram could be saved. The psychologist remained for four days: watched, observed, took notes, analyzed. Then he said, “There will be no trouble. Just go to the market, purchase a gramophone and bring Beethoven records, Mozart, Wagner – classical music. Whenever the ram gets mad, in a rage, just put on a classical record. Play it and it will soothe him, and he will be perfectly calmed down.”
The farmer couldn’t believe it, that this was going to be so. But it had to be tried, so he tried it. It worked! Immediately the ram would become silent and cool down.
For one year there was no trouble. Then one day the shepherd came running and said, “Something has gone wrong, I don’t know what. The ram has killed himself! As usual, seeing that he was getting in a rage again, I put a record on. But he worsened. Then he became more and more mad and he simply charged into the wall. His neck is broken. He is dead.”
The farmer went there. The ram was lying dead near the wall. Then he looked at the gramophone to see what record was there. There had been a terrible mistake: it was not classical music, but Frank Sinatra’s record singing: “There Shall Never Be Another Like You.”

That created the trouble. “There Shall Never Be Another Like You.” The ego is the cause of all madness, unhappiness, misery. That is going to be the cause of your death, that is going to break your neck.
You can cope with it, if it is lukewarm. My whole effort is to bring it to a peak where you cannot cope with it. Either you have to drop it, or you will drop. And whenever such a choice arises – that you have to drop the misery or you have to drop yourself – you will drop the misery. With the misery, the ego, the ignorance, the unawareness – they all disappear. They are names of the same phenomenon.
Enough for today.

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