683

(part 2)

Now try to understand this story.

[A disciple came to Maruf Karkhi and said:
"I have been talking to people about you. Jews claim that you are a Jew; Christians revere you as one of their own saints; Muslims insist that you are the greatest of all Muslims.”

Maruf answered:
"This is what humanity says in Baghdad. When I was in Jerusalem, Jews said that I was a Christian, Muslims that I was a Jew, and Christians that I was a Muslim."

"How must we think of you then?" asked the man.

Maruf said:
"Some do not understand me, and revere me. Others do not either, so they revile me. That is what I have come to say. You should think of me as one who has said this.]

Now... [A disciple came to Maruf Karkhi and said…]

Maruf Karkhi is one of the Sufi masters and it is said that hundreds of people became enlightened through him. He developed many new devices. He was a really religious man, not belonging to any orthodoxy, not belonging to any convention, not belonging to any tradition; homeless, without any roots, floating like a white cloud – absolute freedom in his being.

[A disciple came…]

The disciple cannot be really a disciple; he must have been a student. In English translations there is a trouble because in English you don’t make much distinction between a disciple and a student; you don’t make much distinction between a master and a teacher. But in the East a vast distinction, difference, exists between these two terminologies.

A teacher can have students, he cannot have disciples: a teacher teaches. Of course, a teacher can teach only that which can be taught. Religion cannot be taught. Things about religion can be taught – that is what theology is: things about God. But God himself cannot be taught, concepts about God, theories, whether this is right or that, and there are millions of theories…

Man has been inventing so many theories about God that God is completely lost in theories. He has almost become nonsubstantial. When you utter the word God, no substance is felt in it. It looks like an air bubble carrying nothing but hot air within. When you say God, no bells ring in the heart. When you say God, it falls flat. It does not carry much significance. The so-called religious thinkers have killed the word completely; they have destroyed the beauty of it. The moment you utter the word God, you put many off. The word carries much violence, ugliness, strife, the narrowness of so-called religious people. It has no poetry now.

A teacher can teach you everything about God. You can become a doctor living with a teacher, a doctor of divinity, a D.D. It is simply unbelievable that things as this exist on earth: people who carry a degree of doctorate about divinity. God is not a theory; it is an experience. You cannot be taught about it.

Says Lao Tzu, “The Old Boy” – the name Lao Tzu means the old boy… Another parable...

It is said Lao Tzu was born old – when he was eighty-four years of age. For eighty-four years he lived in the womb of the mother. When he was born he was already absolutely ancient, his hair white, wrinkled. What is the meaning? The meaning is that whenever religious consciousness is born it is always ancient: both new and ancient. Hence, Lao Tzu’s name: “The Old Boy.” Lao Tzu means the old boy – old, yet young.

Says Lao Tzu: “Truth cannot be said. And all that can be said will not be true.”

A teacher is one who teaches truth which cannot be taught. He teaches about truth, he goes round and round; he beats around the bush, he never hits the center. And a student is one who is inquiring about God, not desiring God, who has come to know, not to be and whose search is intellectual, not total. A student is trying to gather more knowledge; he wants to become more knowledgeable. He wants to accumulate much information.

It is said… One of Maruf’s students became very famous. The student became so famous that people started coming to him and asking him things, even when Maruf was alive. Sometimes it would even happen that Maruf was sitting there with the student, and people would come not to Maruf but to the student and ask him things. He became very efficient in the scriptures, he crammed all the scriptures; he was as perfect as a computer.

One day somebody came and asked a question about some passage in the scripture. The student recited the whole scripture, then recited all the commentaries that had been made about the scripture. Within minutes he had gone through all there was in the scriptures. He argued this way and that and tried to prove a conclusion.
Maruf was sitting and listening. The man was astounded – so much knowledge. He said to Maruf, “You are fortunate to have such disciples. This boy is a rare gem! So much knowledge. I have never come across such a brilliant mind, such a genius. What do you say about him?”
Maruf said, “I am always worried. I am worried because he reads too much. And I am worried that he has no time to know; his whole time is going on reading. I am always worried as to when he will know – he has no time.”

A student is not concerned about knowing, he is concerned about knowledge. A teacher attracts students, a master attracts disciples. A disciple is not a student. He has not come to know about God, he has come to become God, to be God. He has not come for more information, he has come for more being. Let me repeat: a disciple asks how to gain more being, and a student asks how to gain more knowledge.

He has come to the master to be. And that is a totally different inquiry, the dimension is altogether different. Not only different, it is diametrically opposite. A student goes to the West, and a disciple goes to the East. It is said that the East and West never meet – I don’t know. They must meet somewhere because the earth is round. But one thing I know: a student and a disciple never meet; they cannot. Unless a student drops being a student he cannot become a disciple.

It is said about Maruf that whenever a person would come… Thousands were coming to him from distant corners of the world. Maruf became an institution, a university – of being, of course, not of knowledge. Whenever a student, or a disciple or a seeker would come to him, the first question Maruf used to ask was this: “Do you want to learn or unlearn? Do you want to be a student or a disciple?” This was always his first question because that would decide everything.

This man who came to Maruf must have been a student. He could not have been a disciple because a disciple is one who has already attained trust. A student is seeking. A disciple has come to a conclusion in his being: “This is my master.” Hence, he is the disciple. “This is my master. I have come to the man I was seeking. This is my shelter, my refuge.” Suddenly the disciple is born. A disciple is born out of this trust. He does not inquire about such things this man is inquiring about. He has fallen in love; he has attained faith; he has surrendered. A student is not surrendered. He will learn, watch, observe, see, and if he’s convinced – remember, if he is convinced that is – the conclusion will come out of his head.

Just the other day I was reading a very, very ridiculous thing said by an Indian guru who has become famous in the West, Sri Chinmoy. He teaches at the U.N. in Geneva. I was always wondering what he is doing there, and just the other day I came to read a statement he has made. Somebody asked him, “How to judge and how to find the master?” He said, “Use your brain.”

Now I know why he is in the U.N. It’s because politicians, stupid people, are there. “Use your brain!” And the thing becomes more and more ridiculous because then he says, “Keep in your mind one hundred marks are to be given, then watch whether the master is honest, sincere, true to his word, his morality, his behavior – watch everything and go on giving marks inside your mind. If the master gets thirty marks he is not for you; leave. If the master gets nearabout eighty to ninety marks, then he is your master.” This is ridiculous.

If you use your brain, you will find a teacher; you cannot find a master. Then, finally, you remain the decisive factor; you decide. Do you know what honesty is? First give marks to yourself – use your brain! Do you know what honesty is? Do you know what morality is? Are you certain about what is good and what is bad? Do you know what is evil and what is not evil? First give marks to yourself – use your brain. If you get thirty marks, drop yourself completely: you are useless. And if you can get eighty or ninety percent, then you don’t need a master. You are already a master. Go and seek disciples.

To use the brain is simply unbelievable. A master is not a commodity in the market. A master by his very being is an unbelievable thing. You cannot use the brain. A master, by his very being, is mysterious. Opposites meet in him; dichotomies merge in him; dualisms – he comprehends all of them.

You can find a teacher if you use the brain; then you will be a student. If you use your heart you can find a master. Only then can you become a disciple. A disciple is in love, and love is always total, not eighty percent, ninety percent. Love is total: either it is or it is not – but it is always total. If it is not, then too, it is total. And there is no compromise in it. A percentage is not possible; a percentage is the way of the brain. Totality is the way of the heart.

That man must have been a student.
So, let me say: [A student came to Maruf Karkhi and said: “I have been talking to people about you.”]
... Must have been using his brain. Must have been a student of Sri Chinmoy.

[“I have been talking to people about you.”]

You have to encounter a master directly – face to face, eyes to eyes, heart to heart. What nonsense to talk about the master to other people to know who the man is!

Many of you also do the same here. You move around, you talk to people about me. Why not come directly to me? Why waste your time with people? This is the foolishness of the human mind: you never know the person you are talking to about me, but you trust that person and you cannot trust me. If you are really a brain-oriented person, then talk about that man to other people, and about those other people to other people. First you have to decide about the man, whether he is sincere, believable: “Whatever he says about the master, can we take it to be true?”

You ask A about me. Why not ask B about A first? And then C about B? Then you will be in an infinite regress. And if A says something wrong about me, you take it; now it will always be a part of you. Or if A says something good about me, you take it and that will be a part of you, and that will decide the whole thing. You never ask about this A, who this A is.

Why go round and round in circles? There is no end to it. There is only one way to come to the master: face to face, eyes to eyes, heart to heart. And don’t ask anybody else because then you will carry a prejudice either for or against, and that prejudice will always be between the master and you; it will become a barrier. You will always be seeking whether that prejudice is right or wrong, it will color your mind.

And any foolish man can prejudice your mind. You are so unaware that any man – the taxi driver who brings you to the ashram – can corrupt your mind. You can ask about me, and many of you must have asked taxi drivers because the mind goes on seeking information, what others are saying: “They must know.” You must ask the neighbors here: “They must know.” And they are the last people in the world to know about me. Neighbors – they cannot know.

Jesus has two sayings. One saying is: Love your enemies just as you love yourself. And the second: Love your neighbors just as you love yourself. It seems enemies and the neighbors are the same people.

This man must have been an ordinary inquirer.
[He said: “I have been talking to people about you. Jews claim that you are a Jew; Christians revere you as one of their own saints; Muslims insist that you are the greatest of all Muslims.”]

He must have met the disciples, the people who had fallen in love with the master. Maruf lived near Baghdad. Baghdad became a capital of religious consciousness when Maruf was alive. This man must have met the disciples, those who had already fallen in love. If the disciple is a Jew he will say, “My master is the most perfect Jew possible.” I have many Jews here and they know that I am the most perfect Jew.

Once you are in love, whatever is beautiful, great to you, you project on the master. I have amongst my disciples almost all sorts of people, belonging to all sorts of religions – Jews, Hindus, Mohammedans, Christians, Jainas, Buddhists. They all think… If a Buddhist comes to me and falls in love with me he will think that I am the most essential Buddhist, and he will find everything which will convince him that this is true.

[Maruf answered:
“This is what humanity says in Baghdad.”]
- That means: “My disciples, my people, my community. You should have been in Jerusalem. This is what humanity says in Baghdad – that is my community people, my people.”

[“When I was in Jerusalem, Jews said that I was a Christian, Muslims that I was a Jew, and Christians that I was a Muslim.”]

Enemies. For a religious man to find enemies, the best places are Jerusalem, Kaaba, Kashi. These are the best places to find enemies because these are the sectarian strongholds: Kashi for Hindus, Jerusalem for Jews, Kaaba for Muslims. These are the sectarian strongholds, fortresses, where the fossilized religion is protected and saved; where the dead body is continuously decorated, painted, for believers – to deceive them that the body is not dead. Where religion is continuously modified to suit new situations so that there is no need to drop it; where dead continuity is continued. There is the problem.

If you want to find people antagonistic to a religious man go to these sacred places, holy places. In fact, they are the unholiest in the world; they have to be because the dead corpse of religion stinks. Can you find a dirtier place in the world than Kashi? Everything stinks of dead religion. But if you are a believer, you don’t listen to your senses, you don’t listen to your own consciousness. You go on seeing things which are not there. You go on projecting things which are not there.

Said Maruf: “This is what humanity says in Baghdad. When I was in Jerusalem just the opposite was the case. Everybody was saying that I don’t belong to them, I am the enemy. Jews thought I was a Christian, the enemy. Muslims thought I was a Jew, the enemy. Christians thought I was a Muslim, the enemy. And in all these three religions, nobody, nobody was ready even to accept me in their fold.”

Religious persons cannot be accepted in any fold. They can be accepted only in the loving heart, but in no organization. They cannot be accepted because organizations have no hearts. A religious man cannot be absorbed in any establishment. Only a personal feeling, a loving heart, can become a shrine for him.

The man must have been puzzled. He had come to inquire who Maruf was. Perhaps the man was a Muslim and he wanted to be convinced that this Maruf was a Muslim so that he could follow him. The man may have been a Jew and wanted to be convinced that this Maruf was a Jew so that he could follow him. You follow yourself, you never follow any master. If you are here because I say things which you already know are right, then you are not with me. Then I am only voicing your own mind.

If you are here because you see in me a Jaina because you are a Jaina… When I talk about Mahavira I can immediately count how many Jainas are here. Their eyes simply change. Their backbones become straight. They look very intense. Now for the first time they are alert, otherwise they were falling asleep. If I talk about Jews I can count immediately how many Jews are here. And if I cannot decide who you are, only then are you with me. If you are a Jew and you listen to me, and you feel that whatever I am saying is what Jewish religion is, then you remain a Jew. I am just a support for your convictions, just an outside support. I have not entered you; you have not allowed me to enter you.

Many people come to me and they say, “Whatever you said was beautiful because this is what I have believed my whole life, and you said it better than I can say it.” So that’s all. He’s finished with me and I am finished with him. There has been no meeting. He has heard his own voice in my voice; he has interpreted his own mind. And he remains a believer in his own ego, he has not dropped even a bit of his old luggage. Rather, on the contrary, he is now more convinced of the old luggage and he will carry it with more strength and with more conviction.

No, remember this: I am not here to make you a Jew or a Hindu or a Christian – no. I am here only to make you a religious man.

The man must have been puzzled. “How must we think of you then?” asked the man. “You have puzzled me. You confuse me.” All religious people are, in a way, confusing. They create a chaos in you because first you have to be uprooted, first you have to be demolished. No religious person is interested in renovating you because however renovated, you will remain the old, the dead thing – modified, of course, but not fresh and young.

A religious person is interested in demolishing you completely, in pulling you down to the very roots, and then in helping you to arise again. Until you die, nothing is possible. A master is a death on the one hand, resurrection on the other. A master is a crucifixion, a cross. As you are, you die. And you, as you should be, are born.

The man was puzzled.
[“How must we think of you then?” said the man. Maruf said: “Some do not understand me…”]

Listen to these words – very significant.
[“Some do not understand me, and revere me.”]

They do not understand, hence they revere. People are really foolish. If they don’t understand a thing they start revering it because they think it must be something very mysterious: “If I cannot understand – I, such an intelligent and genius man – if I cannot understand, it must be something very, very deep and mysterious.” And many people exploit such attitudes. Many people.

If you read Hegel’s books you will see that is what he is doing. He goes on trying to make everything as difficult as possible. It is not difficult! It is a good exercise to study Hegel, a German philosopher, in his own day thought to be the greatest. But as time passes again and again he comes lower and lower and lower because as you understand him his mystery is lost. And nothing is there, just verbiage. If he can say a thing in a single word he will use a hundred pages. If he can say a thing in one sentence, he will go on and on, round and round, in pages. You will not be able… He writes long sentences, sometimes one sentence on one page. You will not be able to remember the beginning of the sentence when you reach the end. You will have to read it again and again. And he mystifies. There are many people, mystifiers, exploiting the human stupidity of believing that whatever you cannot understand must be something superb, of the sublime, of the unknown, of the mysterious. These people are exploiters.

Just the reverse is the case with people who are really wise. They speak in short sentences. Their sentences are not complicated, they are simple. Whatever they say can be understood by anybody who is normally intelligent. They don’t mystify. Whatever they teach is very, very simple – simple as life is simple, simple as existence is simple, rivers and mountains are simple, birds and trees are simple.

Wise men are simple. But the more you understand them… To understand them is simple but the more you understand them, the deeper you penetrate their simplicity, the more you see new dimensions of mysteries opening. Their words are simple, but what they want to indicate is mysterious. Their indication is simple, but the indicated is mysterious.

Look at my finger – a simple thing. I indicate with my finger toward the moon. The moon is mysterious, not the finger. The finger is a very simple phenomenon, nothing to say about it. Words are like fingers and they point, they finger, indicate, toward the mysterious.

[“Some do not understand me, and revere me.”]

And you have revered many people and you have revered many doctrines, just because you cannot understand them. There are many followers of Gurdjieff. Because they cannot understand him they follow him. Gurdjieff is not like Hegel, he is not mystifying, but he has something else to do. He does not want unwanted people to come near him, so he writes in such a way that unless you are very patient you will not be able to penetrate him. He is not difficult; he is simple. But the methodology is that he puts you off; you cannot read more than a few pages. I have not come across a single person yet who has read his 'All and Everything' completely. People have gone through it, but… And he knew that this is going to be so. He writes in a tedious style, he bores you. And this is a very considered method. He puts you off.

When the book, 'All and Everything' was published for the first time, the pages were not cut. Only the introductory pages, a hundred pages, were cut and the other pages were not. And there was a note on the book saying that if you can read the one hundred pages, then open the others; otherwise return the book to the shop and take your money back. First try with the one hundred pages, and if you are still interested then open the other pages, cut them; otherwise, don’t destroy the book. Many books were returned, many were not returned, but that doesn’t mean people read them. They were just curious. They thought, “Maybe it is a trick and only in the introductory pages he is boring, inside he may not be.” But if you cut, you couldn’t return the book.

I have not come across a single person who has read the whole book thoroughly. People skip, then they miss because here and there he hides the diamonds and everything else is just a camouflage. Here and there, in the bushes of words, he hides the diamonds. Those diamonds can be sorted out and can be written on a postcard. And that book has one thousand pages!

Many people follow Gurdjieff because they cannot understand. Suddenly, when you cannot understand, you feel there is some mystery. It is not so; truth is very simple. Everybody has the capacity to understand it. Truth is as simple as anything can be. You have to be just silent, understanding, ready, and it is revealed to you.

[Maruf said: “Some do not understand me…”] – hence their reverence – and [“…others do not either, so they revile me.”]

There are the people who, if they cannot understand – they cannot believe that anything can exist which they cannot understand – they revile. It is against their egos. But remember: both are egoistic viewpoints. One ego thinks, “I understand easily. If I cannot understand, there must be something mysterious.” Another ego says, “If I cannot understand, then there cannot be anything at all. This man is simply deceptive. There is nothing. If there were something, then how come I cannot understand it? A genius like me will understand everything.” Both are egoistic standpoints. And one has to drop out of both of them. Only then can you understand a master.

One has to drop both. Don’t revere a thing because you don’t understand. Don’t revile it because you don’t understand. In fact, don’t refer the thing to your ego, don’t bring it into the context of your ego. That is useless. Just listen to the thing. If you cannot understand, try to understand – meditate more, contemplate more, become more silent. Come to it again and again from different standpoints. And finally come to it with no standpoint at all. You will understand and the mystery will be revealed. If you cannot understand, don’t start reviling it; you are not the last word in understanding. You are not the last capacity of understanding. You are not the omega of understanding. You are just a beginner on the first rung of the ladder – and the ladder is vast and long.

Millions of things are waiting for you to be. You are just at the door, you have not even entered the shrine. Maybe you are just on the steps, or maybe just on the path, not even up to the steps, not even at the door. Don’t bring your ego in either way. You are not the deciding factor as to whether it is mysterious or nothing. Listen. The more you listen to a man who has attained, you will understand more and more. And the more you understand, the more it will become mysterious.

The mystery of life is not something which can be solved or which is ever solved. It has to be lived. It is not a problem to be solved; it has to be lived. The more you know the less you feel that you know. The more you know the more you feel the unknown surrounds you from everywhere. And in the final moment of knowing, all knowledge drops; you know nothing. That final moment of knowing is like vast ignorance, a vast dark night. But only out of that dark night is the morning born. Out of this vast ignorance a light which is knowing, which is understanding arises. Buddha calls it pragya, sambodhi; Patanjali calls it samadhi – the enlightenment.

[Maruf said: “Some do not understand me, and revere me. Others do not either, so they revile me. That is what I have come to say. You should think of me as one who has said this.”]

The man was asking to label Maruf somehow – whether he is a Jew or a Mohammedan or a Christian. Once labeled, you think you have understood. Labeling is a trick. You label a certain thing and you feel you have understood.

I show you a flower, an outlandish flower you have never seen before, and immediately you ask, “What is its name?” Why are you so anxious to know the name? How is the name going to help you? X, Y, Z, whatever the name may be, how is it going to help you? If I say X, you think now you know it, you have labeled it. Now you can show to your child that this is X flower. You have become a knower. What have you known about the flower? Just the word X. I could have called it Y or Z, they would have been as relevant as X. How do you know it?

I was reading Gertrude Stein’s book. When she said in a poem, “A rose is a rose is a rose,” it became world famous. She goes on that way with many things; she does not define, she doesn’t say anything: “A rose is a rose is a rose.” Nothing is defined; nothing is said really.
Somebody asked, “Why have you said this? We all know a rose is a rose is a rose. It makes no sense. It adds nothing to our knowledge.”
Stein said, “Because poets have been talking about roses for millennia. Millions of poems about roses, everybody has read them, sung them, and repeated them. The word rose has lost its rosiness. It doesn’t say anything anymore. That’s why I had to repeat – a rose is a rose is a rose – so that you are awakened out of your sleep, so that you are shaken a little. ‘What is this woman saying? The absurdity of it – a rose is a rose is a rose!’ Then you may listen. Otherwise just rose, who listens? Everybody knows.” And she said, “Repeating this I have brought the redness to the rose again.”

Words can’t say much. And if you think that just by knowing the names and labels you have known, you will miss everything. Try to avoid words. Don’t try to label. You immediately label. Labeling is such a great disease; it is an obsession. You see a man, you say “Beautiful!” You see a woman and you say “Ugly!” Why in such a hurry? Wait! The woman has many faces. Even the ugliest woman sometimes has a beautiful face no beautiful woman can compete with – the ugliest. I have seen the ugliest woman in a certain posture, in a certain mood, in a certain climate, so beautiful that your Miss Universe will look a little pale in front of her. And I have seen the most beautiful woman ugly in certain moods. Wait: don’t label, otherwise your label will not allow you to see the reality.

Even beautiful women, in anger, in jealousy, in possessiveness, become so ugly – and their ugliness is deeper than the ordinary ugliness of a body. Their ugliness is spiritual and inner, and it comes all over their body like a rash. When a woman is jealous and possessive, she may be beautiful on the surface but something emanates around her – poisonous, snakelike; she’s ugly. You touch her in that moment and you will feel that you have touched a reptile, not a woman. Poisonous – fumes coming out of her poison.

Don’t label. Reality doesn’t believe in labels. Reality goes on moving and changing; it is flux, a river. You cannot step twice in the same river – not even once. It is moving all the time. Don’t categorize. You have pigeonholes in the mind. Immediately something is there you put it in a pigeonhole, and finished. And you think you know – this man is good and that man is bad. Have you not ever observed bad becoming good, good becoming bad? Have you not seen an honest thief? Have you not seen a very, very sincere criminal? Have you never seen a sinner, but holy? Categories don’t belong to life, they belong to the mind. Categories are your games. Don’t categorize.

This man had come to ask Maruf, “How to categorize you? Where to put you?” Maruf is an alive man. If he was dead he would have said, “I am a Mohammedan, of course, a humble Muslim, a Sufi,” but he is not a dead man, he won’t allow categorization. He is alive, utterly alive. He says, “Remember me by only this. Nothing else. That is what I have come to say. You should think of me as one who has said this. Remember just this much: those who don’t understand me, they revere me, and those who don’t understand me, they revile me. In Jerusalem, Jews think I am a Muslim and Muslims that I am a Jew. And in Baghdad, where people are in love with me, in my community, Jews think I am the most perfect Jew, Christians that I am a reborn Christ, and Muslims that I am the last word in being a Muslim. More I will not say. This much I say to you. And if you want to know how to remember me, you can only do this: You should think of me as one who has said this.”

He remains uncategorized, unlabeled. He does not give any clue. Rather, he becomes more mysterious. The man may have come with something, some prejudice, some idea about this master Maruf. And Maruf has demolished his mind completely, he has cut through all his prejudices, he has left him in the vacuum.

That’s what a master does. He leaves you in emptiness, but that is the most beautiful gift that can be given to you – nothingness, emptiness, a vacuum. In that vacuum arises all. In that nothingness arises all. In that emptiness the absolute is born. But until you die, that’s not possible.

You are here. Let me be your death and direction and resurrection.

Enough for today.