JESUS
Come Follow Yourself Vol 04 09
Ninth Discourse from the series of 11 discourses - Come Follow Yourself Vol 04 by Osho.
You can listen, download or read all of these discourses on oshoworld.com.
Matthew 27
26 Then released he Barabbas unto them, and when he had scourged Jesus, he delivered him to be crucified.
46 And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying: “Eli, Eli, lamasabachthani?” That is to say: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”
47 Some of them that stood there, when they heard that said: “This man calleth for Elias.”
48 And straightway one of them ran and took a sponge and filled it with vinegar and put it on a reed, and gave him to drink.
49 The rest said: “Let be. Let us see whether Elias will come to save him.”
50 Jesus, when he had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost.
51 And behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom, and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent;
52 And the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints which slept arose,
53 And came out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many.
Nothing is new under the sun, and nothing is old also. It all depends on the mind. If the mind is old, then everything is old; if the mind is new, then everything is new. And a new mind is a no-mind. Only an old mind is a mind.
The mind means the past, the accumulated past, the accumulated dust of the past. The mind is a rut, a routine; it is never new, it goes on repeating itself. It is like a gramophone record, stuck. The needle is stuck somewhere, and it goes on repeating the same line, the same line. Centuries have passed, but the mind continues behaving in the same pattern. It killed Socrates, poisoned him; it crucified Jesus, it killed Mansoor, and nothing has changed yet. If Jesus comes again, he is going to be crucified.
I have heard a very beautiful story…
It is a Sufi joke of tremendous import. A Bektasi dervish – Bektasi is an order of Sufis, one of the most important orders, very revolutionary – a Bektasi dervish approached a certain bishop and said, “I have heard of a young man who harangues crowds, advocates their breaking the law, claims supernatural connections, performs miracles, and contradicts himself.”
“Enough,” said the bishop, “he shall be tried, charged with blasphemy and upsetting public order. If he does not recant, he may be put to death as a heretic and a corrupter. Just tell me his name and I shall arrange the rest.”
“I wish you could realize how impressed I am by your competence,” said the Bektasi dervish. “His name is Jesus.”
Even Christians will kill him if he comes again. It is not only that Jews killed him, it was nothing to do with Jews. Let me repeat it: it had nothing to do with Jews. It has something to do with the mind itself. If he comes again, Christians will crucify him because he will again bring the new and the fresh – and the mind is old and is always afraid of the new and the fresh. He will again bring the unknown, and the mind is the known, and the known is always apprehensive of the unknown. He will again bring insecurity, and the mind is always in search of security. He will bring chaos, and the mind wants a comfortable, convenient life – although a comfortable, convenient life is not a real life. The more comfortable, the less alive; the most comfortable life is in the grave.
If you are alive there is inconvenience, if you are alive there are challenges, if you are alive every moment you have to face reality, encounter reality. Every moment you have to be ready to change and to move. Reality has no security and that is its beauty. Life has no security and that is its beauty. Because there is no security, there is adventure; because the future is unknown, nobody knows what is going to happen the next moment. That’s why there is challenge, growth, adventure. If you miss adventure, you miss all. If your life is not that of an adventure, of a search into the unknown, then you are living in vain.
Jesus, or a man like Jesus, always brings the unknown to you. He always brings a challenge. The comfortable mind, the settled mind, feels danger. Either Jesus will kill your mind, or you will have to kill Jesus to save your mind. These are the only two alternatives. Either you can go with Jesus – then by and by you will dissolve – or you will have to kill Jesus before he attracts you.
Let me say it in this way: Jews killed Jesus not because he was against them, but because deep down they were attracted toward him – a deep attraction, a deep magnetism. That was the only way to protect themselves. Jews were not trying to kill him, they were simply trying to protect themselves. This man was dangerous; he was opening a window into adventure, he was calling them to a challenge, to go on a hazardous journey, to a pilgrimage without any maps, on a pilgrimage that was uncharted. He was calling them to come to the wild sea, and they were secure on their banks. They had made small houses of convenience, and they were clinging to the bank. And this man went on calling them, this man went on haunting them, this man became a constant danger. They killed him to protect themselves. Don’t be angry against them; if you are angry against them, you miss the whole point.
Jesus will be killed again if he comes. Now Christians will kill him because the same problem will arise again. Now Christianity is a settled thing, and religion can never be a settled thing.
Religion is a continuity in revolution, a continuous revolution. It is never a fixed thing. It is always a process because religion is life. A church is just a graveyard. Religion, dead, becomes a church. Religion, dead, becomes Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism. Religion, alive, is Jesus, Buddha – it has a totally different flavor.
Christians will do the same because he again brings the wildness into your settled world, he again brings the chaotic into your so-called ordered life. He brings disorder, he is an anarchist. He brings anarchy. He is a rebel who destroys all with which you feel comfortable. Why is it so? Why is he so much against law, order? – because he knows a greater law, because he knows a greater order.
Let me explain it to you. There are two types of order in the world: one manmade, another divine. Manmade order is just make believe; it is not really order, it only hides disorder. Deep down the anarchy continues. On the surface you are befooled, as if there is an order.
Just the opposite is the case with the divine order. On the surface there is chaos, and deep down in the depths there is order. On the surface there are great waves, and the ocean is silent deep within. The center has a cosmos in it, and the periphery has a chaos on it. That is divine order. The human order is chaos within, a cosmos just on the periphery, skin deep at the most.
Jesus brings disorder, chaos, because he knows that unless your periphery is in disorder, you will not be able to move toward your innermost core. When your periphery is in disorder, there is no way to go except within. When there is disorder and anarchy outside, where can you move, where can you go, where can you search and seek for a home? You start moving inward, you come to your center. When you think that everything is okay outside, nothing is wrong, who bothers to go in? Only when the outside life is in chaos is the inner life born. The inner life is possible only in an outer chaos.
All great religious people are rebels. They have to be, they have to destroy your illusion of order so you can come to seek and search for the real order. It is what Lao Tzu calls the Tao. Tao means the real order that is not manmade, that is just part of reality, intrinsic to it. It is not the laws man has managed to make, but the law out of which man is born. Remember, there are many manmade laws, but there is only one law, the Tao – what Buddha calls the dhamma.
Jesus brings disorder to make you alert. He is like an alarm; he wants to awaken you, but you feel offended. He disturbs your sleep – and maybe you were having a beautiful dream. He disturbs your dream. You want him not to disturb you. And yet there is a deep attraction because his call appeals to your depth; it is from depth to depth. Your mind may say no, but your innermost being starts saying yes. That is the fear. The Jews were not afraid of what Jesus was saying, the Jews were afraid because they were feeling, deep down, an attraction, a call, an appeal. By murdering Jesus, they defended themselves. They defended their own periphery against their own center. Or you can say, they defended the manmade order against the God-made order. They defended the law of Moses against the law of God himself. That’s what is meant when Jesus says, “Moses brings law to you, I bring love.” Love is the Tao.
Have you watched? Love is the most undisciplined, and yet the most disciplined thing in the world – the most anarchic and yet the most disciplined thing in the world. When you love a person, you don’t follow any rules; all rules are thrown overboard. When you love a person, rules are not needed. They are needed only when you don’t love a person. Love brings its own rule, love brings its own order. If you love me, that very love brings a certain discipline. If you don’t love me, then rules are to be forced.
In old Indian scriptures it is said that whenever there is a master, there is discipline. It is not that he forces discipline; just his presence and the love he creates around him brings its own discipline. Love has no discipline, and yet love, and only love, has real discipline. When Jesus says, “I bring love to you,” he means, “I bring a certain discipline of the innermost being, of the center.”
People who were the guardians of the law naturally became afraid. They had to defend; the society, the law, the discipline, the temple, the religion – Jesus was a danger to everything. When they started to understand, or misunderstand Jesus, when they heard him, by and by they became aware of certain things – certain things that were their securities, that were their comforts; certain things to which they were clinging and avoiding life; certain things, like walls, prisons, in which they were hiding and feeling safe. Jesus started shaking them out of their sleep. They could not see who Jesus was, they could not see him directly; they could see him only in relation to the securities that were going to be broken by this man. He was a tremendous phenomenon, but they could see only a few points.
That is how it always happens. What I am saying to you, you are not listening to its totality. Only to a few things do you listen which are in some way related to you, in some way disturb you, or in some way console you. You don’t listen to me, you listen to me in reference to yourself. And because of that reference, everything becomes confused. You lose clarity.
Let me tell you a story…
There is a story about a man who went to a dictionary compiler and asked him why he was so interested in sex. The lexicographer was quite surprised, and said, “Wherever did you get that idea?”
“From your own writings!” said the angry visitor.
“But I have only written that one dictionary. That’s all of my writing,” said the author.
“I know,” said the visitor, “and that is the book I have read.”
“But the book contains a hundred thousand words, and out of those I don’t suppose that more than a dozen words are about sex.”
“What are you talking about all the other words for?” said the visitor. “I was asking you about the words for sex!”
One hundred thousand words, but this man had read only the twelve words about sex. He must have been a celibate, he must have been suppressing sex. Out of a hundred thousand words, only a few words are important to him. In fact, for other words he is almost blind; only for those few words is he not blind.
When you read a book, you never read the book the author has written. You read some other book that you can read. When you listen to me, it is not to what I am saying that you listen. You may hear what I am saying, but you don’t listen to what I am saying. You listen only to certain things that are, in a certain way, relevant to your mind. Hearing is not difficult – listening is the problem. Listening means that you don’t choose.
When Jesus, or a man like Jesus, explodes, the explosion is vast. He brings millions of suns in him. The light is tremendous and infinite. But you start thinking about yourself; you become worried about your own small luxuries, comforts, conveniences – trivia. You become afraid about these things, and you start defending yourself because this man attracts your center. The mind is the periphery, being is the center – this man attracts your being. And let me tell you, when you crucify Jesus, you crucify your own being in favor of your mind. When you kill Jesus, you kill your own being in favor of your periphery. When Jews killed Jesus on that day, they decided to be in favor of the mind against their own being. Jesus was their essence. He was the very essence, the very flowering of their whole history. He was the very purpose of their whole being here. But they decided; they decided in favor of the mind, and crucified being.
Jesus is being crucified. This is not only a historic thing that once happened and now you are finished with it. It is something that is happening in every moment of everybody’s life. Remember, you are always crucifying your Jesus in favor of your mind. Stop that crucifixion. If you understand me rightly, what I am saying to you, you will stop that crucifixion.
I have heard a story…
An incompetent carpenter once built a creaky house for himself and maintained it carelessly. The roof threatened to collapse, the floors were rough to walk upon, his neighbors warned him of the dangers and the unattractiveness of his house. But he angrily refused to listen because it was not only a house, it was also his ego trip. It was his house, and he had made it. Whenever anybody said anything against the house, he took it as if that man was against him. This is how the mind reacts.
Finally getting tired of unwanted advice, he placed plugs in his ears. The warnings continued, but now the carpenter only smiled, not hearing a word. Inevitably, one day his house collapsed. Fortunately the man escaped with only minor injuries. His neighbors scolded; they said, “See? We warned you. You are punished by your own stubbornness.”
The carpenter just smiled pleasantly; he still wore his earplugs. Incredibly, in spite of the disaster, the carpenter went right back to the same foolishness.
The ego is very stubborn. Even if you feel you have committed a mistake, you don’t realize it. You try to rationalize in a thousand and one ways – to defend, to prove it is not a mistake. And you do it again, hoping that this time everything is going to be okay. This is hoping against hope.
Incredibly, in spite of the disaster, the carpenter went right back to the same foolishness – he built and lived in another hazardous house. He was again warned, but never changed his perilous way. That was because he had, by this time, taken his earplugs as both a normal and an easy way of life.
This explains the tragic life of men and women who insist on wearing psychological earplugs. And remember, not only are Jews obsessed with psychological earplugs, everybody on this earth is. Whenever your ego is in danger, you stop listening. Or you start listening to something that is not said at all. Or you start interpreting in favor of your own ego. Anybody who is in search of truth has to understand these tricks because these tricks are the traps. These tricks are the ways in which you will miss the path.
The path is very straight and clear, but your mind is very cunning and it goes on creating new, illusory paths. And you go on listening to it. You have listened to it always and always, and always it has proved to be in the wrong. But it is your mind. You think it is you. It is your ego, just see the point of it.
Jesus’ message was very simple in a way, straight. Anybody could have understood it, but nobody understood it. And people became so enraged they killed this simple and innocent man. He had not committed any sin, he was not a criminal, but he was treated as a criminal – not only like a criminal, he was treated worse than that. This is the point of today’s sutras.
Three people were going to be killed on that day: two thieves and Jesus. One of the thieves’ name was Barabbas. Pontius Pilate was hoping – because that was the tradition, the convention, that the Governor General would be allowed to forgive one person each year – he was hoping the Jews would ask that Jesus be forgiven, released, and should not be killed. But the Jews asked that Jesus be killed and Barabbas, a criminal, be released. They treated Jesus even worse than a criminal.
What was his crime? The criminal had broken only one law, or at the most two laws. Jesus was breaking all the laws. He was not a criminal, in fact he had not done anything wrong, but he was dangerous. The criminal was not dangerous; at the most he was a thief, or at the most he may have been a murderer. But the whole society was not at stake, the whole society was not in danger. Barabbas may have been a lawbreaker, but he was not against law. Even people who are criminals are for law; they feel guilty, and they know they have done wrong. This man Jesus was dangerous. He had not done anything wrong, but he was against all law.
He is for love, and against law. A thousand and one criminals are less than this man’s danger. All the criminals together are less than the danger this man brings because he is destroying the very foundation of your society. Maybe your society is nothing but a madhouse, but you think that it is your society. And this man is destroying the very foundations.
They asked that a criminal should be forgiven, but Jesus had to be crucified. He was the greatest criminal, and he had not committed a crime at all. But he was bringing a revolution in the thinking of people, he was bringing a revolution in their minds. The greatest revolution there is, is the revolution for love and against law – because law creates the rigidity of life, and love gives it again a melting. Law makes your life frozen, love melts it through its warmth.
Law is ugly. Jesus was not saying, “Be unlawful” – that is where the misunderstanding lay. He was against law, but he was not for lawlessness. He was against law and for love. He was against law, but he was not saying to become lawless. He was saying, “Rise above law, go beyond it; reach the heights of love.” Then there is no need for law. Your love will take care, love is enough. The law is not needed.
I have overheard…
Two small children walking on the road. The elder one was saying, “This is Sunday, and we should not work.” They must have been Christian.
The younger one said, “Look at the policeman. He is working, he is on duty, and the priest says that those who work on Sunday will not go to heaven. What about policemen?”
The elder one said, “Policemen are not needed there.”
When love exists, law is not needed. Law is a poor substitute for love. Jesus was giving a higher law, and he was misunderstood. People thought he was destroying their law, their society, their structure. But he was giving a more fluid structure.
I go on saying that I am against all character. You can misunderstand me, you can think I am teaching characterlessness. No, I am simply teaching a higher character, a character that is not rigid, a character that is not fixed, a character that is not dead; a character that is alive like a river, a character that flows – a character that knows no boundaries, a character that can respond spontaneously; a character that is not a clinging to the past but is always a response in the present. The greatest men of character are always characterless. Buddha and Jesus, they are lawless, characterless, unsocial, because they bring a higher law into the world. But your eyes cannot rise that high, and you cannot see what they bring. They bring sky to us, and we have become so accustomed to creeping on the earth in our small holes that we cannot see the freedom they bring. Their freedom seems risky.
It happened once…
There were five fools traveling together. They were tired. They sat down against a tree, and all of them stretched out their legs. They said, “What are we going to do now? We won’t be able to get up anymore. We are no longer able to tell which of those feet belong to who.” They were really in deep trouble. “What are we going to do now?”
They started crying and weeping: “We will just have to stay here forever and ever. We are stuck. Now nobody knows which legs belong to whom.” There they were, crying and weeping, getting hungry and thirsty, and they couldn’t get up.
A man passed by and he said, “What are you doing in there? Why are you crying and weeping? What has happened to you, what unfortunate accident has happened to you?”
“Well, here we are,” said the fools, “we can’t get up.”
“But why can’t you get up? I can’t see any problem,” said the man. “You look perfectly healthy.”
“Because we don’t know which feet belong to which.”
“For goodness sakes! How much will you give me if I tell you?”
“Well,” said the fools, “we will give you something, as long as you tell us which of those feet belong to which.”
The man took a big needle and began to stick them with it. He stuck one of them: “Ouch!”
“That’s yours. Pull it in!”
He stuck another one: “Ouch!”
“That is yours, that one. Pull it in!”
He stuck all of them the same way until he had the very last one on his feet.
That is the situation of humanity. The whole humanity has been behaving very foolishly. Somebody is needed to hit you hard, to make you aware. And whenever somebody comes and hits you out of his compassion, you get angry, you misunderstand him.
Jesus was hammering people on their heads to bring a certain truth home – that nobody is imprisoning you except yourself, that nobody has made this mess of your life except yourself, that nobody has prepared this trap for you. It is you yourself. This ugly state of affairs, this miserable state of affairs, is your own doing. That’s the whole message. But whenever somebody says, “This is your doing,” you want to retaliate. You would like him to say that somebody else is responsible; that saves your face. Whenever somebody says to you that only you are responsible, you retaliate, react, you become angry. You? How can you be responsible? You are so wise. And to think oneself wise is the definition of being a foolish man.
Now the sutras:
Then released he Barabbas unto them because they had asked for him. And when he had scourged Jesus, he delivered him to be crucified.
And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying: “Eli, Eli, lamasabachthani?” That is to say: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”
This sentence has tremendous import and has to be understood very deeply and carefully. Much depends on your understanding of this sentence whether you will be able to understand Jesus or not. There are many interpretations.
A few think that Jesus became doubtful. They think, a few interpreters think, that he was also hoping for a miracle – that God would descend from heaven and save him, and there would be a great miracle. And that miracle did not happen, and he was just on the verge of being crucified. He was put on the cross, and he cried, “Eli, Eli! – My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? What wrong have I done that you have forsaken me? Why have you left me alone? Why are you not doing something to save me? Where is your promise, where is your miracle?”
No, this interpretation is wrong. Jesus is not saying anything like that. He was not doubtful, and he was not expecting a miracle. Others were expecting, right; the crowd was expecting, right; but Jesus was not expecting a miracle because a man like Jesus knows that just to be is the greatest miracle. There is no greater miracle possible. Just to be is enough, more than enough. You cannot ask for more. Just to be alive amidst so much death, to be alive in the ocean of death, is the greatest miracle. In so much darkness, dense darkness, to be conscious and alive is all. What more can you ask for?
No, he was not waiting for a miracle. Then why did he say “…why hast thou forsaken me?” This happens to everybody who comes to the last step, to one who comes to the very verge of samadhi, the very verge of enlightenment. This happens to everybody. It is as if a river is just going to flow into the ocean – the known is going to meet the unknown, life is going to embrace death. It is natural, it is absolutely natural. It is not a doubt; it is not anything like skepticism, it is not losing trust. No, it is simply human that before one dissolves, one has a shivering, a fear. One is being uprooted, uprooted from life.
It is the same fear a child feels when he is going to be born. When the child is just going to come out of the womb – every child I tell you – says, “Eli, Eli…My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” He had a different life up to then. Now that whole life is being uprooted – and one never knows where one is going. One faces eternal abyss, one faces a bottomless abyss. One starts trembling. That is the humanity of Jesus.
In Jesus’ cry: “Eli, Eli…” the whole of humanity cried that day. That’s what is beautiful in Jesus. Buddha will not do that, he will not cry. It is as if he had no human part in him – all stone, marble. Jesus is a man of flesh and bone just like you and me, a fragile being facing eternal abyss. It is not because of any doubt that he cried. If there had been doubt, he would not have said, “Eli, Eli…My God, my God…” He would not have said that. If there had been doubt, he would have said the thing Nietzsche said after twenty centuries: “God is dead. There is no God.”
If he had been waiting for a miracle, that would have been the moment to say, “You don’t exist, and I was befooled by my own illusions, my own dreams.” If Jesus had been skeptical, he would have said, “There is no God anymore. I was wrong to believe in you. You don’t exist.” Or he would have challenged, “This is the point to prove whether you are or not. Now do the miracle and prove that you are!”
It happened to one philosopher, Edmund Burke. He was in a church. He stood just before the congregation, took out his pocket watch and said, “I will believe in God if he can stop this watch, just now.” He looked upward, and said, “If you are, if you exist, please do at least this much of a miracle. This is not a big miracle I am asking for. Stop this watch.”
And the watch did not stop. It is proved that God doesn’t exist. Edmund Burke was not asking for a big miracle, but a small miracle – very small, nothing much. But the question is not whether you ask for a big miracle or a small miracle. The question is: Are you asking for proof? The proof cannot be supplied because existence is not at all concerned to prove itself to anybody. In fact, those who try to prove it are in a certain way suspicious of their being. God is not suspicious, so whatever you say, he goes on quietly, silently smiling. He does not bother. He is, and what is the need to prove it?
Jesus was not asking for proof. Otherwise he would not have said: “My God, my God” – God remains still “my” – “why hast thou forsaken me?” This is simple humanity, fragile humanness. Left alone, it comes to everybody, this crucifixion comes to everybody. If you go deeper in meditation, one day you will find the meaning of this sentence: “Eli, Eli, lamasabachthani.” One day you will find, moving slowly, slowly, slowly, that you come to the point where you are dissolving, disappearing. This is the point of crucifixion, and you will also cry, “My God, why have you forsaken me? I am disappearing, evaporating!” It is simply an indication of fragile humanness, nothing else. And it shows the authenticity of the experience because it happens only when one really faces that moment of total cessation, crucifixion, where the ego completely disappears. One is left in total emptiness. There is no doubt in it, there is no asking for a miracle. It is not a question, it is a statement about Jesus’ humanity: “I am a fragile human being, son of man, and I am afraid and I am trembling and I would like to go back.”
But there is no going back because that is the point of no return. So except for crying, what else can you do?
“My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”
Some of them that stood there, when they heard that said: “This man calleth for Elias.”
That’s what I mean; whenever you hear a man like Jesus, you interpret him in your own way. Elias is an old prophet. The people interpreted that he was calling for Elias. He was calling for the living God, who is now, and people thought he was calling for Elias who was sometime in the past. The mind thinks of the past, a no-mind responds to the present.
Jesus was calling for God who is right now, and who is always now – who has no past and no future, who is just present. He was calling to God, the present, the living, just now facing him. But people thought he was calling to Elias, the old prophet.
Some of them that stood there, when they heard that said: “This man calleth for Elias.”
And straightway one of them ran and took a sponge and filled it with vinegar and put it on a reed, and gave him to drink.
The rest said: “Let be. Let us see whether Elias will come to save him.”
Jesus, when he had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost.
Once more he cried: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Why twice? First he cried out; he must have hoped there would be an answer, there would be a response. Nothing happened. Existence is silent. You hear only your echoes. There was no answer coming from existence. He cried out once more – maybe he had not been heard? Existence never answers. Not that it doesn’t answer; it never answers verbally, it never answers your mind. It answers in an existential way. It answered, but Jesus could not follow at that moment. At that moment, nobody is able to follow. At that moment one simply trembles and sees earth slipping away underneath, and one sees oneself evaporating. And there is no answer coming.
Only later on, when Jesus was resurrected, could he understand the answer. The answer is given in terms of existence, not in terms of intellect, mind. It is not verbal. The answer is resurrection. Die totally, and then you resurrect. That was the answer: “I have not forsaken you. I am always there deep within you. How can I forsake you? – because I am you. How can I forsake you? How can I go away from you? I am your innermost core. That which has died on the cross is neither you nor I. It is just a vehicle, a house, a dream you were using. It is neither you nor I.”
Those people who had crucified Jesus had crucified only the body, not the spirit. The spirit cannot be crucified. It is immortal. But that answer will come a little later on when Jesus has died. He cried out again: Jesus, when he had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost. Once more he tried to find the answer, any response from the whole, from the ocean. No response coming, he died, he disappeared.
This is what Buddha calls nirvana, the cessation of the flame. He surrendered. That is the meaning of he yielded up the ghost – he surrendered. He said, “Yes, thy will be done. Let it be so, as you will.”
And behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom, and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent;
A man like Jesus is the very pinnacle of consciousness, a cherished flower. He is someone who has been coming up, coming up for centuries after so many births, growing, growing. And then comes the flowering. The whole existence celebrates, the whole existence feels the glory of God. When such a man drops dead, leaves the body, a sadness spreads all over existence. It has to be so because we are not separate from each other; we are interlinked, we are joined together. We are one mass of consciousness. Individuality is just an egoistic notion. So whenever a Jesus flowers, the whole existence feels the blessing; and whenever a Jesus drops his body, the whole existence feels the sadness. These are the symbolic ways of saying this: “And behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom, and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent;” It has to be so.
It is said about Mohammed that whenever he would walk in the desert, a cloud would follow him to give him shelter, like an umbrella. It may not be historical, but it is significant. It is poetic, symbolic – it says something.
It is said about Buddha that when he became enlightened, trees flowered out of season. They may not have flowered, this may not be a scientific statement – but a statement need not be scientific to be true, and a statement need not be historical to be true. There are planes and planes of truth. There is a certain quality in a poetic truth also. It is not historic, it is not scientific, but it is true all the same. It is a poetic truth, and a poetic truth is on a higher plane than any scientific truth because scientific truths go on changing. A poetic truth is eternal. Scientific truth is more or less a fact. A poetic truth is not a fact but a deep significance, a meaning, a myth.
It is said about Mahavira that when he would walk and move from one village to another – and he was nude, a naked man with no shoes, no clothes – sometimes thorns would be on the path. They would immediately turn to protect his feet. The thorns may not have done this – one cannot expect that much from thorns. Even from human beings it is too much to expect. But still the idea is significant. It simply shows one thing: we are members of each other. The thorns are also part of us, and we are part of the thorns. Flowers are also part of us, and we are part of the flowers. We are one family. We are not strangers, separate islands – a vast continent of being, interrelated.
The earth may not have quaked, but I say the gospel is true. And whenever there is any contradiction between a poetic truth and a scientific truth, always believe the poetic because the scientific is very ordinary. To believe in the poetic truth is extraordinary; it gives you vision, it raises you to a higher plane of being. Just to trust a poetic truth, you start flying, as if suddenly wings have grown on you. You are no longer moving on the earth, you fly in the sky. When a truth has wings, it becomes poetic.
And, behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom, and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent;
And the graves were opened, and many bodies of the saints which slept arose.
Of course, it should be so. Even if it had not been so, it should have been so. Whenever a Jesus is crucified, all the saints of the past must feel it in their graves; they have to feel it.
In fact, Buddha has said that whenever a buddha is born, not only do the past buddhas feel it, but even the future buddhas feel it, those who are going to be. Because time is a human concept, but in fact there is no time. It is eternal. It is one whole, one piece.
And the graves were opened, and many bodies of the saints which slept arose. Jesus being crucified was such a shock. It was such a shock, such a sword-like sharp penetration into the being. It was not only Jesus crucified, it was all religion crucified that day, all saints crucified in Jesus.
What is the meaning of it? The meaning is that the present contains the whole past, this moment contains the whole past. Nothing disappears, nothing can disappear. Where will it go? This roseflower contains all the roseflowers of the past; and if you can understand, let me say, it contains all the future flowers also. This is just one flower representing all the flowers of the past and future.
We are here. In this moment the whole of existence converges. All the past and all the future converges in this moment. This moment is the bridge between the past and the future. In you everything is meeting right now. If you can become aware, you are the whole existence this very moment. This is the meaning of the Upanishadic saying: “Aham brahmasmi” – I am the whole. This is the meaning of Jesus repeating again and again, “I and my Father are one” – I am the whole. This is the meaning of al-Hillaj Mansoor who said, “Ana’l haq” – I am the truth.
In each moment the whole converges. Each moment represents the whole, the whole past and the whole future. Jesus is not only Jesus; all the buddhas are involved, all the saints are involved – and not only of the past but, I say to you, of the future also.
And the graves were opened, and many bodies of the saints which slept arose.
And came out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many.
And this was felt by many. It was not just written by the few disciples. Even others who had the sensitivity felt it.
It depends on your sensitivity. What I am saying to you this moment, if you are really sensitive, you can feel all – the whole past and the whole future converging in you. And in that moment you are no longer a tiny being, you are the whole. Those who were sensitive, they could see it. They could feel unknown forces moving around.
That day of Jesus’ crucifixion was not an ordinary day. People who had a little prayer in them must have felt certain unknown forces moving. People who had a little meditation in them must have felt, must have become perceptive. Those who had loved, or those who had a poetic vision or the sense of an artist, they must have felt. People who had any quality of the heart must have felt many presences all around.
The Gospel writers were not aware of Indian scriptures, otherwise they would have made it clearer. In India we have a very long tradition, and we have tried through many dimensions to interpret the unknown. When Buddha spoke, it is said that not only human beings were present there to listen to him – gods also came, animals also, trees also listened. If you read Buddhist scriptures, you will be surprised because the number of listeners was so great. You must be surprised because no instruments existed. How could Buddha have spoken to such great multitudes? The microphone was not there, there was no way to communicate. But there is a misunderstanding. Those numbers are not only of human beings. The greater part of them were devas, gods who had come from above to listen to Buddha – then animals who could not understand language, but who could feel; then trees and plants and birds, who didn’t need any verbal communication, just the very presence of Buddha was enough nourishment to them; and then human beings.
Human beings were a very minor part of the whole audience, and the same is the story about Mahavira, and about other tirthankaras and other buddhas. About Mahavira it is said that when he first spoke, only gods could understand and listen to him because he spoke on such a high plane. It was impossible for anybody else to understand. Then the gods persuaded him, “Please come a little lower to help humanity.” Then by and by, he spoke on a lower plane and humanity could understand. Then the gods persuaded him to come still a little lower because the animals were there, and the trees and the rocks.
These stories are beautiful. They say only one thing: we all are interrelated, we are not separate. The highest point is related to the lowest, we are all rungs of one ladder. The lowest is as much a part of the same ladder as the highest. Those who were sensitive must have felt unknown, strange presences all around.
But the whole thing depends on your sensitivity; nothing else is needed. A great intellectual attainment is not needed, a great logical acumen is not needed. When Jesus comes to you and knocks at your door, all that is needed is deep sensitivity.
Let me tell you a very small anecdote…
A good and thoughtful king offered a ride in his carriage to a weary traveler on the road. Having been treated badly by evil kings, the traveler hesitantly asked, “Sir, what must I give in return?”
The understanding king replied, “Just one thing: your acceptance of the offer.”
Yes, that’s all a Jesus asks of you – your acceptance of the offer.
Enough for today.
26 Then released he Barabbas unto them, and when he had scourged Jesus, he delivered him to be crucified.
46 And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying: “Eli, Eli, lamasabachthani?” That is to say: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”
47 Some of them that stood there, when they heard that said: “This man calleth for Elias.”
48 And straightway one of them ran and took a sponge and filled it with vinegar and put it on a reed, and gave him to drink.
49 The rest said: “Let be. Let us see whether Elias will come to save him.”
50 Jesus, when he had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost.
51 And behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom, and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent;
52 And the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints which slept arose,
53 And came out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many.
Nothing is new under the sun, and nothing is old also. It all depends on the mind. If the mind is old, then everything is old; if the mind is new, then everything is new. And a new mind is a no-mind. Only an old mind is a mind.
The mind means the past, the accumulated past, the accumulated dust of the past. The mind is a rut, a routine; it is never new, it goes on repeating itself. It is like a gramophone record, stuck. The needle is stuck somewhere, and it goes on repeating the same line, the same line. Centuries have passed, but the mind continues behaving in the same pattern. It killed Socrates, poisoned him; it crucified Jesus, it killed Mansoor, and nothing has changed yet. If Jesus comes again, he is going to be crucified.
I have heard a very beautiful story…
It is a Sufi joke of tremendous import. A Bektasi dervish – Bektasi is an order of Sufis, one of the most important orders, very revolutionary – a Bektasi dervish approached a certain bishop and said, “I have heard of a young man who harangues crowds, advocates their breaking the law, claims supernatural connections, performs miracles, and contradicts himself.”
“Enough,” said the bishop, “he shall be tried, charged with blasphemy and upsetting public order. If he does not recant, he may be put to death as a heretic and a corrupter. Just tell me his name and I shall arrange the rest.”
“I wish you could realize how impressed I am by your competence,” said the Bektasi dervish. “His name is Jesus.”
Even Christians will kill him if he comes again. It is not only that Jews killed him, it was nothing to do with Jews. Let me repeat it: it had nothing to do with Jews. It has something to do with the mind itself. If he comes again, Christians will crucify him because he will again bring the new and the fresh – and the mind is old and is always afraid of the new and the fresh. He will again bring the unknown, and the mind is the known, and the known is always apprehensive of the unknown. He will again bring insecurity, and the mind is always in search of security. He will bring chaos, and the mind wants a comfortable, convenient life – although a comfortable, convenient life is not a real life. The more comfortable, the less alive; the most comfortable life is in the grave.
If you are alive there is inconvenience, if you are alive there are challenges, if you are alive every moment you have to face reality, encounter reality. Every moment you have to be ready to change and to move. Reality has no security and that is its beauty. Life has no security and that is its beauty. Because there is no security, there is adventure; because the future is unknown, nobody knows what is going to happen the next moment. That’s why there is challenge, growth, adventure. If you miss adventure, you miss all. If your life is not that of an adventure, of a search into the unknown, then you are living in vain.
Jesus, or a man like Jesus, always brings the unknown to you. He always brings a challenge. The comfortable mind, the settled mind, feels danger. Either Jesus will kill your mind, or you will have to kill Jesus to save your mind. These are the only two alternatives. Either you can go with Jesus – then by and by you will dissolve – or you will have to kill Jesus before he attracts you.
Let me say it in this way: Jews killed Jesus not because he was against them, but because deep down they were attracted toward him – a deep attraction, a deep magnetism. That was the only way to protect themselves. Jews were not trying to kill him, they were simply trying to protect themselves. This man was dangerous; he was opening a window into adventure, he was calling them to a challenge, to go on a hazardous journey, to a pilgrimage without any maps, on a pilgrimage that was uncharted. He was calling them to come to the wild sea, and they were secure on their banks. They had made small houses of convenience, and they were clinging to the bank. And this man went on calling them, this man went on haunting them, this man became a constant danger. They killed him to protect themselves. Don’t be angry against them; if you are angry against them, you miss the whole point.
Jesus will be killed again if he comes. Now Christians will kill him because the same problem will arise again. Now Christianity is a settled thing, and religion can never be a settled thing.
Religion is a continuity in revolution, a continuous revolution. It is never a fixed thing. It is always a process because religion is life. A church is just a graveyard. Religion, dead, becomes a church. Religion, dead, becomes Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism. Religion, alive, is Jesus, Buddha – it has a totally different flavor.
Christians will do the same because he again brings the wildness into your settled world, he again brings the chaotic into your so-called ordered life. He brings disorder, he is an anarchist. He brings anarchy. He is a rebel who destroys all with which you feel comfortable. Why is it so? Why is he so much against law, order? – because he knows a greater law, because he knows a greater order.
Let me explain it to you. There are two types of order in the world: one manmade, another divine. Manmade order is just make believe; it is not really order, it only hides disorder. Deep down the anarchy continues. On the surface you are befooled, as if there is an order.
Just the opposite is the case with the divine order. On the surface there is chaos, and deep down in the depths there is order. On the surface there are great waves, and the ocean is silent deep within. The center has a cosmos in it, and the periphery has a chaos on it. That is divine order. The human order is chaos within, a cosmos just on the periphery, skin deep at the most.
Jesus brings disorder, chaos, because he knows that unless your periphery is in disorder, you will not be able to move toward your innermost core. When your periphery is in disorder, there is no way to go except within. When there is disorder and anarchy outside, where can you move, where can you go, where can you search and seek for a home? You start moving inward, you come to your center. When you think that everything is okay outside, nothing is wrong, who bothers to go in? Only when the outside life is in chaos is the inner life born. The inner life is possible only in an outer chaos.
All great religious people are rebels. They have to be, they have to destroy your illusion of order so you can come to seek and search for the real order. It is what Lao Tzu calls the Tao. Tao means the real order that is not manmade, that is just part of reality, intrinsic to it. It is not the laws man has managed to make, but the law out of which man is born. Remember, there are many manmade laws, but there is only one law, the Tao – what Buddha calls the dhamma.
Jesus brings disorder to make you alert. He is like an alarm; he wants to awaken you, but you feel offended. He disturbs your sleep – and maybe you were having a beautiful dream. He disturbs your dream. You want him not to disturb you. And yet there is a deep attraction because his call appeals to your depth; it is from depth to depth. Your mind may say no, but your innermost being starts saying yes. That is the fear. The Jews were not afraid of what Jesus was saying, the Jews were afraid because they were feeling, deep down, an attraction, a call, an appeal. By murdering Jesus, they defended themselves. They defended their own periphery against their own center. Or you can say, they defended the manmade order against the God-made order. They defended the law of Moses against the law of God himself. That’s what is meant when Jesus says, “Moses brings law to you, I bring love.” Love is the Tao.
Have you watched? Love is the most undisciplined, and yet the most disciplined thing in the world – the most anarchic and yet the most disciplined thing in the world. When you love a person, you don’t follow any rules; all rules are thrown overboard. When you love a person, rules are not needed. They are needed only when you don’t love a person. Love brings its own rule, love brings its own order. If you love me, that very love brings a certain discipline. If you don’t love me, then rules are to be forced.
In old Indian scriptures it is said that whenever there is a master, there is discipline. It is not that he forces discipline; just his presence and the love he creates around him brings its own discipline. Love has no discipline, and yet love, and only love, has real discipline. When Jesus says, “I bring love to you,” he means, “I bring a certain discipline of the innermost being, of the center.”
People who were the guardians of the law naturally became afraid. They had to defend; the society, the law, the discipline, the temple, the religion – Jesus was a danger to everything. When they started to understand, or misunderstand Jesus, when they heard him, by and by they became aware of certain things – certain things that were their securities, that were their comforts; certain things to which they were clinging and avoiding life; certain things, like walls, prisons, in which they were hiding and feeling safe. Jesus started shaking them out of their sleep. They could not see who Jesus was, they could not see him directly; they could see him only in relation to the securities that were going to be broken by this man. He was a tremendous phenomenon, but they could see only a few points.
That is how it always happens. What I am saying to you, you are not listening to its totality. Only to a few things do you listen which are in some way related to you, in some way disturb you, or in some way console you. You don’t listen to me, you listen to me in reference to yourself. And because of that reference, everything becomes confused. You lose clarity.
Let me tell you a story…
There is a story about a man who went to a dictionary compiler and asked him why he was so interested in sex. The lexicographer was quite surprised, and said, “Wherever did you get that idea?”
“From your own writings!” said the angry visitor.
“But I have only written that one dictionary. That’s all of my writing,” said the author.
“I know,” said the visitor, “and that is the book I have read.”
“But the book contains a hundred thousand words, and out of those I don’t suppose that more than a dozen words are about sex.”
“What are you talking about all the other words for?” said the visitor. “I was asking you about the words for sex!”
One hundred thousand words, but this man had read only the twelve words about sex. He must have been a celibate, he must have been suppressing sex. Out of a hundred thousand words, only a few words are important to him. In fact, for other words he is almost blind; only for those few words is he not blind.
When you read a book, you never read the book the author has written. You read some other book that you can read. When you listen to me, it is not to what I am saying that you listen. You may hear what I am saying, but you don’t listen to what I am saying. You listen only to certain things that are, in a certain way, relevant to your mind. Hearing is not difficult – listening is the problem. Listening means that you don’t choose.
When Jesus, or a man like Jesus, explodes, the explosion is vast. He brings millions of suns in him. The light is tremendous and infinite. But you start thinking about yourself; you become worried about your own small luxuries, comforts, conveniences – trivia. You become afraid about these things, and you start defending yourself because this man attracts your center. The mind is the periphery, being is the center – this man attracts your being. And let me tell you, when you crucify Jesus, you crucify your own being in favor of your mind. When you kill Jesus, you kill your own being in favor of your periphery. When Jews killed Jesus on that day, they decided to be in favor of the mind against their own being. Jesus was their essence. He was the very essence, the very flowering of their whole history. He was the very purpose of their whole being here. But they decided; they decided in favor of the mind, and crucified being.
Jesus is being crucified. This is not only a historic thing that once happened and now you are finished with it. It is something that is happening in every moment of everybody’s life. Remember, you are always crucifying your Jesus in favor of your mind. Stop that crucifixion. If you understand me rightly, what I am saying to you, you will stop that crucifixion.
I have heard a story…
An incompetent carpenter once built a creaky house for himself and maintained it carelessly. The roof threatened to collapse, the floors were rough to walk upon, his neighbors warned him of the dangers and the unattractiveness of his house. But he angrily refused to listen because it was not only a house, it was also his ego trip. It was his house, and he had made it. Whenever anybody said anything against the house, he took it as if that man was against him. This is how the mind reacts.
Finally getting tired of unwanted advice, he placed plugs in his ears. The warnings continued, but now the carpenter only smiled, not hearing a word. Inevitably, one day his house collapsed. Fortunately the man escaped with only minor injuries. His neighbors scolded; they said, “See? We warned you. You are punished by your own stubbornness.”
The carpenter just smiled pleasantly; he still wore his earplugs. Incredibly, in spite of the disaster, the carpenter went right back to the same foolishness.
The ego is very stubborn. Even if you feel you have committed a mistake, you don’t realize it. You try to rationalize in a thousand and one ways – to defend, to prove it is not a mistake. And you do it again, hoping that this time everything is going to be okay. This is hoping against hope.
Incredibly, in spite of the disaster, the carpenter went right back to the same foolishness – he built and lived in another hazardous house. He was again warned, but never changed his perilous way. That was because he had, by this time, taken his earplugs as both a normal and an easy way of life.
This explains the tragic life of men and women who insist on wearing psychological earplugs. And remember, not only are Jews obsessed with psychological earplugs, everybody on this earth is. Whenever your ego is in danger, you stop listening. Or you start listening to something that is not said at all. Or you start interpreting in favor of your own ego. Anybody who is in search of truth has to understand these tricks because these tricks are the traps. These tricks are the ways in which you will miss the path.
The path is very straight and clear, but your mind is very cunning and it goes on creating new, illusory paths. And you go on listening to it. You have listened to it always and always, and always it has proved to be in the wrong. But it is your mind. You think it is you. It is your ego, just see the point of it.
Jesus’ message was very simple in a way, straight. Anybody could have understood it, but nobody understood it. And people became so enraged they killed this simple and innocent man. He had not committed any sin, he was not a criminal, but he was treated as a criminal – not only like a criminal, he was treated worse than that. This is the point of today’s sutras.
Three people were going to be killed on that day: two thieves and Jesus. One of the thieves’ name was Barabbas. Pontius Pilate was hoping – because that was the tradition, the convention, that the Governor General would be allowed to forgive one person each year – he was hoping the Jews would ask that Jesus be forgiven, released, and should not be killed. But the Jews asked that Jesus be killed and Barabbas, a criminal, be released. They treated Jesus even worse than a criminal.
What was his crime? The criminal had broken only one law, or at the most two laws. Jesus was breaking all the laws. He was not a criminal, in fact he had not done anything wrong, but he was dangerous. The criminal was not dangerous; at the most he was a thief, or at the most he may have been a murderer. But the whole society was not at stake, the whole society was not in danger. Barabbas may have been a lawbreaker, but he was not against law. Even people who are criminals are for law; they feel guilty, and they know they have done wrong. This man Jesus was dangerous. He had not done anything wrong, but he was against all law.
He is for love, and against law. A thousand and one criminals are less than this man’s danger. All the criminals together are less than the danger this man brings because he is destroying the very foundation of your society. Maybe your society is nothing but a madhouse, but you think that it is your society. And this man is destroying the very foundations.
They asked that a criminal should be forgiven, but Jesus had to be crucified. He was the greatest criminal, and he had not committed a crime at all. But he was bringing a revolution in the thinking of people, he was bringing a revolution in their minds. The greatest revolution there is, is the revolution for love and against law – because law creates the rigidity of life, and love gives it again a melting. Law makes your life frozen, love melts it through its warmth.
Law is ugly. Jesus was not saying, “Be unlawful” – that is where the misunderstanding lay. He was against law, but he was not for lawlessness. He was against law and for love. He was against law, but he was not saying to become lawless. He was saying, “Rise above law, go beyond it; reach the heights of love.” Then there is no need for law. Your love will take care, love is enough. The law is not needed.
I have overheard…
Two small children walking on the road. The elder one was saying, “This is Sunday, and we should not work.” They must have been Christian.
The younger one said, “Look at the policeman. He is working, he is on duty, and the priest says that those who work on Sunday will not go to heaven. What about policemen?”
The elder one said, “Policemen are not needed there.”
When love exists, law is not needed. Law is a poor substitute for love. Jesus was giving a higher law, and he was misunderstood. People thought he was destroying their law, their society, their structure. But he was giving a more fluid structure.
I go on saying that I am against all character. You can misunderstand me, you can think I am teaching characterlessness. No, I am simply teaching a higher character, a character that is not rigid, a character that is not fixed, a character that is not dead; a character that is alive like a river, a character that flows – a character that knows no boundaries, a character that can respond spontaneously; a character that is not a clinging to the past but is always a response in the present. The greatest men of character are always characterless. Buddha and Jesus, they are lawless, characterless, unsocial, because they bring a higher law into the world. But your eyes cannot rise that high, and you cannot see what they bring. They bring sky to us, and we have become so accustomed to creeping on the earth in our small holes that we cannot see the freedom they bring. Their freedom seems risky.
It happened once…
There were five fools traveling together. They were tired. They sat down against a tree, and all of them stretched out their legs. They said, “What are we going to do now? We won’t be able to get up anymore. We are no longer able to tell which of those feet belong to who.” They were really in deep trouble. “What are we going to do now?”
They started crying and weeping: “We will just have to stay here forever and ever. We are stuck. Now nobody knows which legs belong to whom.” There they were, crying and weeping, getting hungry and thirsty, and they couldn’t get up.
A man passed by and he said, “What are you doing in there? Why are you crying and weeping? What has happened to you, what unfortunate accident has happened to you?”
“Well, here we are,” said the fools, “we can’t get up.”
“But why can’t you get up? I can’t see any problem,” said the man. “You look perfectly healthy.”
“Because we don’t know which feet belong to which.”
“For goodness sakes! How much will you give me if I tell you?”
“Well,” said the fools, “we will give you something, as long as you tell us which of those feet belong to which.”
The man took a big needle and began to stick them with it. He stuck one of them: “Ouch!”
“That’s yours. Pull it in!”
He stuck another one: “Ouch!”
“That is yours, that one. Pull it in!”
He stuck all of them the same way until he had the very last one on his feet.
That is the situation of humanity. The whole humanity has been behaving very foolishly. Somebody is needed to hit you hard, to make you aware. And whenever somebody comes and hits you out of his compassion, you get angry, you misunderstand him.
Jesus was hammering people on their heads to bring a certain truth home – that nobody is imprisoning you except yourself, that nobody has made this mess of your life except yourself, that nobody has prepared this trap for you. It is you yourself. This ugly state of affairs, this miserable state of affairs, is your own doing. That’s the whole message. But whenever somebody says, “This is your doing,” you want to retaliate. You would like him to say that somebody else is responsible; that saves your face. Whenever somebody says to you that only you are responsible, you retaliate, react, you become angry. You? How can you be responsible? You are so wise. And to think oneself wise is the definition of being a foolish man.
Now the sutras:
Then released he Barabbas unto them because they had asked for him. And when he had scourged Jesus, he delivered him to be crucified.
And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying: “Eli, Eli, lamasabachthani?” That is to say: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”
This sentence has tremendous import and has to be understood very deeply and carefully. Much depends on your understanding of this sentence whether you will be able to understand Jesus or not. There are many interpretations.
A few think that Jesus became doubtful. They think, a few interpreters think, that he was also hoping for a miracle – that God would descend from heaven and save him, and there would be a great miracle. And that miracle did not happen, and he was just on the verge of being crucified. He was put on the cross, and he cried, “Eli, Eli! – My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? What wrong have I done that you have forsaken me? Why have you left me alone? Why are you not doing something to save me? Where is your promise, where is your miracle?”
No, this interpretation is wrong. Jesus is not saying anything like that. He was not doubtful, and he was not expecting a miracle. Others were expecting, right; the crowd was expecting, right; but Jesus was not expecting a miracle because a man like Jesus knows that just to be is the greatest miracle. There is no greater miracle possible. Just to be is enough, more than enough. You cannot ask for more. Just to be alive amidst so much death, to be alive in the ocean of death, is the greatest miracle. In so much darkness, dense darkness, to be conscious and alive is all. What more can you ask for?
No, he was not waiting for a miracle. Then why did he say “…why hast thou forsaken me?” This happens to everybody who comes to the last step, to one who comes to the very verge of samadhi, the very verge of enlightenment. This happens to everybody. It is as if a river is just going to flow into the ocean – the known is going to meet the unknown, life is going to embrace death. It is natural, it is absolutely natural. It is not a doubt; it is not anything like skepticism, it is not losing trust. No, it is simply human that before one dissolves, one has a shivering, a fear. One is being uprooted, uprooted from life.
It is the same fear a child feels when he is going to be born. When the child is just going to come out of the womb – every child I tell you – says, “Eli, Eli…My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” He had a different life up to then. Now that whole life is being uprooted – and one never knows where one is going. One faces eternal abyss, one faces a bottomless abyss. One starts trembling. That is the humanity of Jesus.
In Jesus’ cry: “Eli, Eli…” the whole of humanity cried that day. That’s what is beautiful in Jesus. Buddha will not do that, he will not cry. It is as if he had no human part in him – all stone, marble. Jesus is a man of flesh and bone just like you and me, a fragile being facing eternal abyss. It is not because of any doubt that he cried. If there had been doubt, he would not have said, “Eli, Eli…My God, my God…” He would not have said that. If there had been doubt, he would have said the thing Nietzsche said after twenty centuries: “God is dead. There is no God.”
If he had been waiting for a miracle, that would have been the moment to say, “You don’t exist, and I was befooled by my own illusions, my own dreams.” If Jesus had been skeptical, he would have said, “There is no God anymore. I was wrong to believe in you. You don’t exist.” Or he would have challenged, “This is the point to prove whether you are or not. Now do the miracle and prove that you are!”
It happened to one philosopher, Edmund Burke. He was in a church. He stood just before the congregation, took out his pocket watch and said, “I will believe in God if he can stop this watch, just now.” He looked upward, and said, “If you are, if you exist, please do at least this much of a miracle. This is not a big miracle I am asking for. Stop this watch.”
And the watch did not stop. It is proved that God doesn’t exist. Edmund Burke was not asking for a big miracle, but a small miracle – very small, nothing much. But the question is not whether you ask for a big miracle or a small miracle. The question is: Are you asking for proof? The proof cannot be supplied because existence is not at all concerned to prove itself to anybody. In fact, those who try to prove it are in a certain way suspicious of their being. God is not suspicious, so whatever you say, he goes on quietly, silently smiling. He does not bother. He is, and what is the need to prove it?
Jesus was not asking for proof. Otherwise he would not have said: “My God, my God” – God remains still “my” – “why hast thou forsaken me?” This is simple humanity, fragile humanness. Left alone, it comes to everybody, this crucifixion comes to everybody. If you go deeper in meditation, one day you will find the meaning of this sentence: “Eli, Eli, lamasabachthani.” One day you will find, moving slowly, slowly, slowly, that you come to the point where you are dissolving, disappearing. This is the point of crucifixion, and you will also cry, “My God, why have you forsaken me? I am disappearing, evaporating!” It is simply an indication of fragile humanness, nothing else. And it shows the authenticity of the experience because it happens only when one really faces that moment of total cessation, crucifixion, where the ego completely disappears. One is left in total emptiness. There is no doubt in it, there is no asking for a miracle. It is not a question, it is a statement about Jesus’ humanity: “I am a fragile human being, son of man, and I am afraid and I am trembling and I would like to go back.”
But there is no going back because that is the point of no return. So except for crying, what else can you do?
“My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”
Some of them that stood there, when they heard that said: “This man calleth for Elias.”
That’s what I mean; whenever you hear a man like Jesus, you interpret him in your own way. Elias is an old prophet. The people interpreted that he was calling for Elias. He was calling for the living God, who is now, and people thought he was calling for Elias who was sometime in the past. The mind thinks of the past, a no-mind responds to the present.
Jesus was calling for God who is right now, and who is always now – who has no past and no future, who is just present. He was calling to God, the present, the living, just now facing him. But people thought he was calling to Elias, the old prophet.
Some of them that stood there, when they heard that said: “This man calleth for Elias.”
And straightway one of them ran and took a sponge and filled it with vinegar and put it on a reed, and gave him to drink.
The rest said: “Let be. Let us see whether Elias will come to save him.”
Jesus, when he had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost.
Once more he cried: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Why twice? First he cried out; he must have hoped there would be an answer, there would be a response. Nothing happened. Existence is silent. You hear only your echoes. There was no answer coming from existence. He cried out once more – maybe he had not been heard? Existence never answers. Not that it doesn’t answer; it never answers verbally, it never answers your mind. It answers in an existential way. It answered, but Jesus could not follow at that moment. At that moment, nobody is able to follow. At that moment one simply trembles and sees earth slipping away underneath, and one sees oneself evaporating. And there is no answer coming.
Only later on, when Jesus was resurrected, could he understand the answer. The answer is given in terms of existence, not in terms of intellect, mind. It is not verbal. The answer is resurrection. Die totally, and then you resurrect. That was the answer: “I have not forsaken you. I am always there deep within you. How can I forsake you? – because I am you. How can I forsake you? How can I go away from you? I am your innermost core. That which has died on the cross is neither you nor I. It is just a vehicle, a house, a dream you were using. It is neither you nor I.”
Those people who had crucified Jesus had crucified only the body, not the spirit. The spirit cannot be crucified. It is immortal. But that answer will come a little later on when Jesus has died. He cried out again: Jesus, when he had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost. Once more he tried to find the answer, any response from the whole, from the ocean. No response coming, he died, he disappeared.
This is what Buddha calls nirvana, the cessation of the flame. He surrendered. That is the meaning of he yielded up the ghost – he surrendered. He said, “Yes, thy will be done. Let it be so, as you will.”
And behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom, and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent;
A man like Jesus is the very pinnacle of consciousness, a cherished flower. He is someone who has been coming up, coming up for centuries after so many births, growing, growing. And then comes the flowering. The whole existence celebrates, the whole existence feels the glory of God. When such a man drops dead, leaves the body, a sadness spreads all over existence. It has to be so because we are not separate from each other; we are interlinked, we are joined together. We are one mass of consciousness. Individuality is just an egoistic notion. So whenever a Jesus flowers, the whole existence feels the blessing; and whenever a Jesus drops his body, the whole existence feels the sadness. These are the symbolic ways of saying this: “And behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom, and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent;” It has to be so.
It is said about Mohammed that whenever he would walk in the desert, a cloud would follow him to give him shelter, like an umbrella. It may not be historical, but it is significant. It is poetic, symbolic – it says something.
It is said about Buddha that when he became enlightened, trees flowered out of season. They may not have flowered, this may not be a scientific statement – but a statement need not be scientific to be true, and a statement need not be historical to be true. There are planes and planes of truth. There is a certain quality in a poetic truth also. It is not historic, it is not scientific, but it is true all the same. It is a poetic truth, and a poetic truth is on a higher plane than any scientific truth because scientific truths go on changing. A poetic truth is eternal. Scientific truth is more or less a fact. A poetic truth is not a fact but a deep significance, a meaning, a myth.
It is said about Mahavira that when he would walk and move from one village to another – and he was nude, a naked man with no shoes, no clothes – sometimes thorns would be on the path. They would immediately turn to protect his feet. The thorns may not have done this – one cannot expect that much from thorns. Even from human beings it is too much to expect. But still the idea is significant. It simply shows one thing: we are members of each other. The thorns are also part of us, and we are part of the thorns. Flowers are also part of us, and we are part of the flowers. We are one family. We are not strangers, separate islands – a vast continent of being, interrelated.
The earth may not have quaked, but I say the gospel is true. And whenever there is any contradiction between a poetic truth and a scientific truth, always believe the poetic because the scientific is very ordinary. To believe in the poetic truth is extraordinary; it gives you vision, it raises you to a higher plane of being. Just to trust a poetic truth, you start flying, as if suddenly wings have grown on you. You are no longer moving on the earth, you fly in the sky. When a truth has wings, it becomes poetic.
And, behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom, and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent;
And the graves were opened, and many bodies of the saints which slept arose.
Of course, it should be so. Even if it had not been so, it should have been so. Whenever a Jesus is crucified, all the saints of the past must feel it in their graves; they have to feel it.
In fact, Buddha has said that whenever a buddha is born, not only do the past buddhas feel it, but even the future buddhas feel it, those who are going to be. Because time is a human concept, but in fact there is no time. It is eternal. It is one whole, one piece.
And the graves were opened, and many bodies of the saints which slept arose. Jesus being crucified was such a shock. It was such a shock, such a sword-like sharp penetration into the being. It was not only Jesus crucified, it was all religion crucified that day, all saints crucified in Jesus.
What is the meaning of it? The meaning is that the present contains the whole past, this moment contains the whole past. Nothing disappears, nothing can disappear. Where will it go? This roseflower contains all the roseflowers of the past; and if you can understand, let me say, it contains all the future flowers also. This is just one flower representing all the flowers of the past and future.
We are here. In this moment the whole of existence converges. All the past and all the future converges in this moment. This moment is the bridge between the past and the future. In you everything is meeting right now. If you can become aware, you are the whole existence this very moment. This is the meaning of the Upanishadic saying: “Aham brahmasmi” – I am the whole. This is the meaning of Jesus repeating again and again, “I and my Father are one” – I am the whole. This is the meaning of al-Hillaj Mansoor who said, “Ana’l haq” – I am the truth.
In each moment the whole converges. Each moment represents the whole, the whole past and the whole future. Jesus is not only Jesus; all the buddhas are involved, all the saints are involved – and not only of the past but, I say to you, of the future also.
And the graves were opened, and many bodies of the saints which slept arose.
And came out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many.
And this was felt by many. It was not just written by the few disciples. Even others who had the sensitivity felt it.
It depends on your sensitivity. What I am saying to you this moment, if you are really sensitive, you can feel all – the whole past and the whole future converging in you. And in that moment you are no longer a tiny being, you are the whole. Those who were sensitive, they could see it. They could feel unknown forces moving around.
That day of Jesus’ crucifixion was not an ordinary day. People who had a little prayer in them must have felt certain unknown forces moving. People who had a little meditation in them must have felt, must have become perceptive. Those who had loved, or those who had a poetic vision or the sense of an artist, they must have felt. People who had any quality of the heart must have felt many presences all around.
The Gospel writers were not aware of Indian scriptures, otherwise they would have made it clearer. In India we have a very long tradition, and we have tried through many dimensions to interpret the unknown. When Buddha spoke, it is said that not only human beings were present there to listen to him – gods also came, animals also, trees also listened. If you read Buddhist scriptures, you will be surprised because the number of listeners was so great. You must be surprised because no instruments existed. How could Buddha have spoken to such great multitudes? The microphone was not there, there was no way to communicate. But there is a misunderstanding. Those numbers are not only of human beings. The greater part of them were devas, gods who had come from above to listen to Buddha – then animals who could not understand language, but who could feel; then trees and plants and birds, who didn’t need any verbal communication, just the very presence of Buddha was enough nourishment to them; and then human beings.
Human beings were a very minor part of the whole audience, and the same is the story about Mahavira, and about other tirthankaras and other buddhas. About Mahavira it is said that when he first spoke, only gods could understand and listen to him because he spoke on such a high plane. It was impossible for anybody else to understand. Then the gods persuaded him, “Please come a little lower to help humanity.” Then by and by, he spoke on a lower plane and humanity could understand. Then the gods persuaded him to come still a little lower because the animals were there, and the trees and the rocks.
These stories are beautiful. They say only one thing: we all are interrelated, we are not separate. The highest point is related to the lowest, we are all rungs of one ladder. The lowest is as much a part of the same ladder as the highest. Those who were sensitive must have felt unknown, strange presences all around.
But the whole thing depends on your sensitivity; nothing else is needed. A great intellectual attainment is not needed, a great logical acumen is not needed. When Jesus comes to you and knocks at your door, all that is needed is deep sensitivity.
Let me tell you a very small anecdote…
A good and thoughtful king offered a ride in his carriage to a weary traveler on the road. Having been treated badly by evil kings, the traveler hesitantly asked, “Sir, what must I give in return?”
The understanding king replied, “Just one thing: your acceptance of the offer.”
Yes, that’s all a Jesus asks of you – your acceptance of the offer.
Enough for today.