Q: Please will you explain to me what “the way of religion” means? I have always been so strongly against religion that I cannot imagine what it means. But, anyhow, I suppose it is the way of total aloneness. And this makes me a little uneasy.
Since you gave me sannyas, I feel like I am in an abyss. Other people are not reachable for me; I am only fixed up to the fire of your eyes – a tremendous Poona fiction story.
Right, I am creating a fiction here: the fiction of the Master and the disciple, the fiction of the god and the devotee. It is really a myth, but very alive. And there is no way to come to the truth unless you pass through a great mythology. Man is lost in lies. From lies there is no direct way to truth. Myth is a bridge between the lie and the truth. A myth partakes of something of the lie and something of the truth; it is a bridge.
Yes, you are right. This is a tremendous Poona fiction story. Whatsoever is happening here is very fictitious – these people in orange, and so many crazy things going on, and I am supporting you and leading you towards nowhere and promising you things which cannot be promised.
Man lives in lies, God lives in the truth; but how to bridge both? Man is a lie, God is a truth; how to bridge both? It is very impossible. Myth is the way – fiction, yes, a spiritual fiction. All the religions are fictitious, all the mythologies are fictitious, but they are of tremendous help. A mythology has something of the truth in it – maybe just a reflection – and something of the lie in it. You can move through the myth towards truth.
And if an alive myth is available, don’t miss it, because a dead myth loses all contact with truth. It becomes a lie. That’s why religion has to be born again and again. When Jesus is alive, the Christian myth is alive. Then people travelled through that myth and reached to truth. Jesus gone: the myth is there but the truth is gone. When myth is there and Jesus is no longer there, the other shore is missing; then it is again just a lie, just a fiction – with no grounding in the truth.
Christianity is a lie; Jesus is a myth.
Krishna is a myth; Hinduism is a lie.
That’s why down through the centuries it has always been emphasized that if you can find an alive Master, don’t miss the opportunity. An alive Master is a myth – something of the untrue and something of the true, both. Something of the untrue means something of the human, and something of the true means something of the divine. That’s why the Gospel says Jesus is the son of man AND the son of God. This is a myth. Being the son of man and the son of God is an impossibility, but that’s what a myth is: God and man meeting, son of God and son of man – something of the lie and something of the truth.
But Jesus gone, then only lies remain. The Pope is not a myth, neither is the Shankaracharya of Puri – dead. They don’t speak from their own experience; they speak from tradition.
A myth is a very fragile flower, like a rose flower. In the morning it is there in all its glory – even Solomon will feel jealous – and by the evening it is gone. How fragile, and how strong. In the morning breeze, how strong it was and how beautiful. Even the vast sky must have felt jealous, and even the sun himself must have felt jealous. A rose flower is a rose flower – so small, and yet so beautiful; so fragile, and so vital and so alive, so fragrant. By the evening, the petals have fallen into the earth and the flower is gone.
A Jesus is also fragile, a Buddha also.
While I am here, it is a myth – an alive myth with a heart, beating. Use this opportunity. When I am gone, it will be a lie.
And this is the misery: that by the time people come to know, the flower is gone. When the flower is gone, they will worship for centuries and centuries. They will worship the past, the dead, the grave. When the flower is alive, they will deny, they will escape, they will protect and defend themselves against it. They may even destroy the flower because the very existence of the flower makes them feel very sad. The very existence of the flower makes them aware of their smallness, their ugliness. The flower creates a contrast.
Hence they crucify Jesus and poison Socrates and kill Mansur. And then they worship. The same people who kill Jesus will worship him. They will even worship the cross, because Jesus died on the cross. And these are the same people. The murderers and the worshipers are not different. The enemies and the believers are not different. These are the same people – the same human mind and the same human stupidity.
Yes, it is a fiction that I am creating here, but it is alive. That is the difference. While I am here, the myth is an alive bridge; you can pass through it towards the unknown.
Osho , Ecstasy: The Forgotten Language, Ch 4, Q 2