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Until you become him he is not. Everybody has to realise him in his own innermost shrine, in his own being. You carry him as a seed. It is up to you to allow it to grow and become a great tree.
So I will not be talking about Christ, but about Jesus. Let Christ be imprisoned in the churches -- that is the right place for Christ to exist. I would like Jesus to enter your hearts. Forget Christ, remember Jesus. But just the opposite has happened. People have forgotten Jesus and their minds have been hammered continuously for two thousand years, hammered to remember Christ. Christ cannot transform you, because there exists no bridge between you and Christ. Then there exists an unbridgeable abyss. But with Jesus you are close. You can call Jesus 'brother', but you cannot call Christ 'brother'. And until you feel a deep brotherhood, a bridge, how can Jesus be of any help to you? Jesus is tremendously beautiful his beauty has a dimension of its own. Buddha is beautiful, but Jesus is totally different from Buddha. In Buddha a different type of silence was incarnated.
l have heard about a Chinese emperor. He had two great painters in his court, and there was always rivalry. They were always fighting and competing, and it was almost impossible to decide who was the greater. Both were masters of their art. One day the emperor said, "Now you do one thing: you both paint on one theme so that it can be decided who is the greater, and the theme is'Rest'." The first painter, of course, chose a very obvious subject: he painted a very silent lake, far away in the mountains, lone, still, not even a ripple on the surface. Just looking at that painting you would feel sleepy. The other painter tried something absolutely opposite: he painted a thundering waterfall... for miles the white foam of it... and just near the waterfall a very fragile, delicate birch tree, the branches bowing down, touching the foam, and on the birch the small nest of a robin, and the robin sitting on the nest, with closed eyes, almost wet. The first is a non-dynamic silence: more like death, less like life. The opposite doesn't exist in it. The rest has no tension in it; the 'rest' is more like absence
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