Introduction
When the word or subject of forgiveness comes up in Osho’s talks, it is generally as a byproduct—of becoming aware, of “taking space,” of realizing that nursing hurt feelings or fantasies of revenge harms no one more than oneself. Forgiveness, unlike many of the other titles in the Insights for a New Way of Living series, is not a word that Osho often uses. At its simplest level—where the word is not a concern at all—forgiveness is what happens when we let go of (or, sometimes, work through) all that is non-existential and meaningless in the here and now of our lives.
This is where a related word, repentance, comes in. Say we were “triggered” by something and reacted: we got angry. We lashed out at another with the intent to hurt them, we said things we wish we hadn’t said. It is an opportunity to remember that our task—our first task—is to take note of it, to own it, to acknowledge it, to take responsibility for it. And, if we find that indeed we acted unconsciously and wrongly, to repent—meaningfully, with full awareness—so that it doesn’t happen again.
As we learn in these pages, on another level “forgiveness” is a uniquely religious approach to a shared problem of our human-ness—animals don’t suffer from this problem—which is our tendency to do things that we later wish we hadn’t done. Or, for that matter, to do things that we want to do, despite the fact that our parents, our churches, our teachers have told us they are “sinful” or “wrong.” So we need forgiveness because we have done these things anyway. In the Judeo-Christian context, we spend a lot of time praying to be delivered from evil, led not into temptation, then forgiven when we go astray. Forgiveness is a prerequisite to become happy or redeemed.
In the East, on the other hand, the idea of “karma” takes care of most of that stuff. The hell we are living in now is a natural consequence of our bad acts in the past. The happiness we experience now, the riches or the good reputation, are our reward for having behaved well in the past. And furthermore, where Christianity gives us only one life to sort all this out, the Eastern religions give us many lives. “Forgiveness” is a minor, bit player in the karmic drama we’re all engaged in here. We can take our time; there is no “judgment day” on the horizon where we’ll have to slip in under the wire or be lost forever.
In this book, Osho unpacks all the nuances, examines all the roots, and sheds light on the intersections where Eastern and Western approaches to the concept of forgiveness—and its related concepts of sin and guilt, shame and repentance, and their past, present, and future consequences—meet.
—Sarito Carol Neiman, compiler and editor
Osho International Foundation
1 Forgiveness:
The Ideal Versus the Actual
We have been talking about love for thousands of years, but where is love in our life? We have been talking about forgiveness and serving humanity, but where is forgiveness, and where is service to humanity? And our service to humanity and our forgiveness have become servants to our deepest vested interest. Someone wants to attain to liberation or to go to heaven—that is why he forgives and he gives to charity. But is it really forgiveness and charity, or is it a bargain? Someone wants to find his soul, so he serves the poor. But is it really serving the poor, or is it just making a poor person an instrument for one’s own vested interest?
All this social service, all this charity, all this forgiveness, and all this nonsense of nonviolence hides the real person who is there inside us. And that real person who is there—only that person exists. If anything has to happen at all, then it has to happen through that person. Any sort of revolution in life, any sort of change in life—anything that needs to happen—has to happen through that real human being. It has to happen through that actual person that I am, that you are. Nothing is going to happen through any ideals.
It has to happen through that actual person that I am, that you are. Nothing is going to happen through any ideals.
But we hide ourselves in ideals. A bad man, in trying to become good, can forget that he is a bad man—he wants to forget that he is a bad person. This is the way all such people cling to good ideals.
If someone talks about high ideals, then know that a bad person is present inside him. If a bad person is not present inside, then he simply cannot talk about “high ideals”—because then the person himself will be good! Then what is there to talk about? Where does the question of high ideals arise?
A “high ideal” is a trick of the bad person who is hidden inside us, and it is a very subtle trick by which we defend ourselves. In trying to become good, we forget the bad. But as long as the bad is present inside, can anyone become good? We may try in a thousand and one ways, but whatever we do, the bad person will again come back from inside.
This is the reality all around us—but perhaps you have lost the ability to see it. The bad person is present inside you, the one who is full of violence and hatred. Whatever you may do, howsoever virtuous an act you may do, since that bad person is present behind your virtuous act, it is going to be a deception. Behind that act, the reality is something else. It is possible that it may not be visible from outside; perhaps it may not be visible to others, but you have the ability to see it.
No one has ever been transformed by an ideal. From outside, it may appear that someone has changed, but the same person will be present inside.
And if you can see it, then you can start on the journey of acquiring a healthy mind; you can travel the path toward a healthy being. So the first thing is to take the first step on the journey, the first step in the direction of acquiring a healthy mind, a healthy consciousness.
The first thing is to see the truth of yourself as a fact, and not as your ideal is. What is your actuality? Not what is your ideology, not what do you believe, but what are you? What is your reality?
If you can be ready to know that—and only then—you can drop this meaningless idea from your mind: the idea that you can change, that you can become transformed by having ideals and being in competition to have the highest ideals. No one has ever been transformed by an ideal. From outside, it may appear that someone has changed, but the same person will be present inside.
The Strength of Forgiveness Lies in Anger
The whole of mankind has become schizophrenic. Man’s mind is split into parts, into fragments, and there is a reason for this: we have taken the totality of life as if it were made up of parts, and we have pitted each part against the other.
Man is one, but we have created divisions inside, and have also determined that these divisions are contrary to each other. We have done this in all spheres. We tell a person, “Don’t be angry, be forgiving”—without realizing that the difference between anger and forgiveness is again only of degrees.
As it is between cold and hot, between childhood and old age, we can say that anger, reduced to the lowest degree, is forgiveness—there is no dichotomy between them. But all the age-old precepts of mankind teach us: “Get rid of anger and adopt forgiveness.” As if anger and forgiveness are such opposite things that you can drop anger and retain forgiveness. Such a thing can only result in splitting people into fragments and in bringing them trouble.
In life, everything is integrated. It is like the notes of a great symphony. If you cut anything out, you will find yourself in difficulty. Someone may say the color black signifies evil. That’s why no one is allowed to wear black at marriages; black is allowed at somebody’s death. There are people who believe black is a sign of evil, and there are people who believe white is a sign of purity. In a symbolic sense, it is alright to have such distinctions, but if someone were to say, “Let’s get rid of black; let’s remove black from the face of the earth,” then remember: with the removal of black, very little white will be left behind, because the whiteness of white stands out in all its sharpness only against a black background.
The teacher writes on a blackboard with white chalk. Is he out of his mind? Why doesn’t he write on the white wall? Of course one can write on a white wall, but the letters won’t stand out. White manifests because of the black background; black is, in fact, causing the white to stand out. And remember, someone who becomes inimical to any one side of a duality causes the other side to become dull and faded as well.
Only one who can be angry has the power to be forgiving. The more fierce the anger, that much greater will be the forgiveness.
One who is against showing anger, his forgiveness will be impotent. The strength of forgiveness lies in anger; only one who can be angry has the power to be forgiving. The more fierce the anger, that much greater will be the forgiveness. The power of anger itself will lend luster to the act of forgiveness. In the absence of anger, the forgiveness will appear totally lackluster, absolutely lifeless, dead.
Apology Is Needed Because There Is No Relationship
If a man steps on a stranger’s foot in the marketplace, he makes a polite apology and offers an explanation: “This place is so crowded.”
If an elder brother steps on his younger brother’s foot, he says, “Sorry,” and that is that.
If a parent treads on his child’s foot, nothing is said at all.
The greatest politeness is free of all formality. Perfect conduct is free of concern.
Perfect wisdom is unplanned. Perfect love is without demonstrations. Perfect sincerity offers no guarantee.
—Chuang Tzu
* * *
Apology is needed because there is no relationship. The other is a stranger: explanation is needed because there is no love.
If there is love, then there is no need for an explanation: the other will understand. If there is love, there is no need for apology: the other will understand. Love always understands, so there is no higher morality than love—there cannot be.
Love is the highest law—but if it is not there, then substitutes are needed. Stepping on a stranger’s foot in the marketplace, an apology is needed—and an explanation, also: “This place is so crowded.”
In reference to this, one thing has to be understood: in the West, even a husband will offer an apology; a wife will offer an explanation. It means that love has disappeared; it means that everybody has become a stranger, that there is no home—that every place has become a marketplace.
In the East, it is impossible to conceive of this state—but Westerners think that Easterners are rude. A husband will never give an explanation—no need, because we are not strangers, and the other can understand. When the other cannot understand, only then is an apology needed. And if love cannot understand, what good is an apology going to do?
If the world becomes a home, all apologies will disappear, all explanations will disappear. You give explanations because you are not certain about the other. Explanation is a trick to avoid conflict; apology is a device to avoid conflict.
But the conflict is there, and you are afraid of it—this is a civilized way to get out of the conflict. You have stepped on a stranger’s foot. You look—violence is in his eyes; he has become aggressive; he will hit you. Apology is needed, and his anger will subside with an apology. It is a trick—you need not be authentic in your apology; it is just a social device. It works as a lubricant. Then you give an explanation, just to say, “I am not responsible; the place is so crowded. It is a marketplace; nothing can be done; it had to happen.” The explanation says that you are not responsible.
Love is always responsible, whether the place is crowded or not, because love is always aware and alert. You cannot shift the responsibility to the situation: you are responsible. Look at this phenomenon—apology is a device, just like a lubricant, to avoid conflict. And explanation is shifting the responsibility onto something else. You don’t say, “I was unconscious, unaware, that is why I stepped on your foot.” You say, “The place is so crowded!” A conscious person cannot do this—and if you go on doing this, you will never become truly religious. Because true religiousness means taking all the responsibility that is there—not avoiding, not escaping. The more responsible you are, the more awareness will arise out of it; the less you feel responsible, the more and more unconscious you will become. Whenever you feel that you are not responsible, you will go to sleep.
Love is always responsible, whether the place is crowded or not, because love is always aware and alert. You cannot shift the responsibility to the situation: you are responsible.
And this has happened—not only in individual relationships; on all levels of society this has happened. Marxism says that society is responsible for everything. If a person is poor, society is responsible; if a person is a thief, society is responsible. You are not responsible; no individual is responsible. Marxism shifts the whole responsibility onto society; you are not responsible.
Look at the religious attitude, which is totally different, qualitatively different. A religious person thinks himself responsible: If someone is begging, if a beggar is there, I am responsible. The beggar may be at the other end of the earth; I may not know him, I may not come across his path, but if the beggar is there, I am responsible. If a war goes on anywhere—in Israel, in Vietnam, anywhere—I am not participating in it in any visible way, but I am responsible.
I am here. I cannot shift the responsibility onto society.
You will never be able to pinpoint it: “This is society.” Everywhere the individual is in existence, and society is just a word.
What do you mean when you say “society”? Where is this society? This is one of the greatest escapes. Only individuals exist; you will never come across society. You will never be able to pinpoint it: “This is society.” Everywhere the individual is in existence, and society is just a word.
Where is society? Ancient civilizations played a trick. They said: God is responsible, fate is responsible. Now communism plays the same game, saying that society is responsible. But where is society? God may be somewhere; society is nowhere, there are only individuals. Religiousness says: I am responsible. No explanation is needed to avoid it.
And remember one thing more: whenever you feel that you are responsible for all the ugliness—for all the mess, anarchy, war, violence, aggression—suddenly you become alert. Responsibility penetrates your heart and makes you aware.
When you say, “This place is much too crowded,” you can go on walking sleepily. Really, you step on the stranger’s foot not because the place is crowded but because you are unconscious. You are walking like a somnambulist, walking in your sleep. When you step on somebody’s foot, you suddenly became aware because now there is danger. You make the apology, “The place is crowded!” Then you fall asleep and start moving again.
What are you really doing when you say “sorry”? Your sleep is broken, you were walking in a dream—you must have been dreaming, imagining, something was going on in the mind—and then you stepped on someone. Not that the place was crowded—you would have stumbled even if no one were there. If only a few people were there, even then you would have stepped on someone. It is you, your unconsciousness, your unconscious behavior. A Buddha cannot stumble even if it is a marketplace, because he moves with full consciousness. Whatsoever he is doing, he is doing it knowingly.
And if he steps on your foot, it means he has stepped knowingly; there must be some purpose in it. It may be just to help you wake up—just to make you awake, he may have stepped on your foot. But he will not say that “the place is crowded”; he will not give any explanation.
Explanations are always deceptive. They look logical, but they are false. You give explanations only when you have to hide something.
You can watch and observe this in your own life. This is not a theory, this is a simple fact of everybody’s experience—you give explanations only when you want to hide something. Truth needs no explanation.
You give explanations only when you have to hide something.
The more you lie, the more explanations are needed. There are so many scriptures because man has lied so much; then explanations are needed to hide the lies. You have to give an explanation, then this explanation will need further explanation, and it goes on and on. It is an infinite regression. And even with the last explanation, nothing is explained. The basic lie remains a lie—you cannot convert a lie into a truth just by explaining it. You may think so, but nothing is explained by explanations.
Once it happened …
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