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Main Index
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right now, fasting is irrelevant."
So remember this: when a religion is feasting, it is alive. Join it! But when a religion is fasting, escape from it as fast as you can, because it is not only dead: it will make you dead if you allow yourself to be close to it.
NO MAN PUTTETH A PIECE OF NEW CLOTH UNTO AN OLD GARMENT, FOR THAT WHICH IS PUT IN TO FILL IT UP TAKETH FROM THE GARMENT, AND THE RENT IS MADE WORSE.
Jesus says, "The traditional religion, the old religion, cannot celebrate." Celebration is new. Every moment it is new, it is never old. NO MAN PUTTETH A PIECE OF NEW CLOTH UNTO AN OLD GARMENT....
A new, fresh, young religion never fits with the tradition. It will fit someday when the newness of it has gone, and it has become a tradition itself, a dead past.
Religion, alive, is a presence. It is in the present. A tradition is just a memory. Can you feel the difference distinctly? It has to be felt.
You love a woman. The woman is there, you are there -- love is flowing between you two. It is a presence: something indefinable surrounds you, something which you cannot catch hold of, something immaterial, something spiritual. Something of the other world has descended around you. You live in a totally different type of world. The moment is no more a part of this world: you are transcended, transferred to some unknown dimension.
But then, the woman has gone, the love has gone. Years have passed. Now it is just a memory. Sometimes you can ruminate about: you can close your eyes and again see that moment of bliss. But now it is dusty, much dust has gathered upon it. Now it is no longer alive. You can feel it, but now that feeling is only a feeling through the mind -- it is not immediate.
When the love was there, it was immediate. It was something you could have touched, something that was there surrounding you. It was more alive than your own body, it was more vital than your own mind. But now it is just a memory.
A flower: alive in the morning, welcoming the sun, dancing in the breeze. By the evening, the petals have withered, the fragrance is gone. A memory of something past. You cannot live it, you can
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