What is the difference between the speech of worldly saints and ancient rishis?

Osho, “laukikānām hi sādhūnām artha vāg anuvartate; ṛṣīṇām punar ādyānām vācam artho’nudhāvati.” The speech of worldly saints follows meaning; but in the case of the ancient rishis, meaning followed their speech. Osho, out of compassion please explain this aphorism of Vashistha. Were the ancient rishis really so superior?

And the cause of the fight? When the police investigated, it became even more amusing. The picchī stick—bamboo—had been hollowed out and stuffed with hundred-rupee notes! That was their wallet. If you ever see a Jain monk’s picchī, look closely at the stick—there is nothing else they can use. Man is inventive: they had filled bundle upon bundle of notes inside. The fight was over division—the elder monk wanted more than the younger, a question of seniority! The younger insisted on equal halves: “This is conspiracy, not a government office!” They thrashed each other; the money was found. The community hushed it up with bribes lest it come out. They came to me: “What should we do?” I said, “Publish it in the newspapers—with photos!” They cried, “What are you saying! We came to ask how to hush it up. It is the prestige of the monk—of our religion.” I…

Osho, what is the definition of God?

Words are very small. If you say God is light, then what of darkness? The scriptures have said that God is light. Suppose we accept this as a definition—then what about darkness? Where will darkness go? Darkness is too; in fact it is far more than light. Light sometimes is and sometimes is not; darkness is always, eternal. Where will you place darkness? If you say God is light, darkness is left out. If you say God is darkness, then light is left out. If you say God is both darkness and light, a contradiction arises: they cannot be together. Try to have both darkness and light in the same room. If you bring in light, darkness disappears; if you preserve darkness, you cannot have light. Then how can both be together? That becomes an impossibility. So you cannot say “both” either. Then the fourth device is to say: it…

Osho, why has human faith in religion waned?

Then there is a further fall. This is when, around Buddha, people hear, oppose, accept. Then two-and-a-half thousand years pass. One generation hands it to the next. Those who had heard from Buddha, or at least seen him—some hint of truth must have reached their ears; some touch of Buddha’s presence must have touched them; some color of Buddha must have fallen upon their souls—however slight, it fell. Then their sons and their sons’ sons believe because the fathers believed, the forefathers believed, people have always believed—and then belief becomes blind belief. What you call religions are superstitions. They should have been bid farewell long ago. New editions of truth descend from the sky every day. A new Koran descends every day. God has not grown tired, has not exhausted Himself with Mohammed. Jesus is not God’s only son—as Christians say, the only begotten. Nor did God come to an…

Osho, from what source does such sweetness, such rasa, come into the speech of saints? And why does the speech of saints bring such fulfillment and reassurance?

And who is without thirst? People keep their thirst suppressed, they keep it forgotten. But thirst is in all. Across lifetimes, what have you been seeking? When the Infinite manifests in a saint, you receive assurance that your running is not in vain; that what descended as a shadow into your imaginings and dreams is not merely a shadow, not merely maya—it can be truth. What I have asked for—if someone has attained it, then I can attain it too. If what I desired has been fulfilled in another, it can be fulfilled in me as well. If in someone just like me—in flesh, bone, and marrow—such infinite peace and bliss has dawned, then it will dawn in me too. Hence the reassurance. Sitting near saints, trust swells, reverence awakens. Then you don’t have to “believe.” Belief is something you force. Reverence arises on its own. Those are the feet…

Question: First question: Osho, truth cannot be spoken—then why do saints speak? Before my lamp goes out, I would like many of your lamps to be lit. And before you depart, distribute the light. You must fade; everyone must fade. But the light can keep burning—from one lamp to another; a chain can be formed. This word “silsila” is lovely. We have an almost identical word, but it has spoiled—“parampara,” tradition. It has become stale, fixed. Its real meaning is simply that which passes from one to another. One breathed a mantra into another’s ear. One gave his life-breath to another. Before the knower departs, let him awaken some, ignite some. Before departing, they will awaken others. Thus the chain continues. The chain that Buddha started—lamps still burn in it. The chain Muhammad started—lamps still burn in it. The light has not been lost.