If Krishna uses the word God it is not a mere word. It is meaningful, it has significance. The significance comes from Krishna’s life; the significance is poured from Krishna’s consciousness.
When Jesus uses the word God it is of utter import, it is pregnant with great meaning. The meaning is in Jesus, not in the word God. Because the word God has been used by rabbis, down the ages, with no meaning at all. Jesus poured meaning into it. He transformed an empty word into a significant, meaningful, alive thing; it started pulsating. When Buddha touched any word it became alive, it grew wings. Suddenly there was a metamorphosis.
But the learned is only full of dust, the dust that he has gathered from books, scriptures. Beware of such learning; it is more dangerous than simple ignorance. Why is it more dangerous than ignorance? – because ignorance has a purity. It has innocence in it and it has an authenticity. It is true and from truth there is a possibility to go further. Knowledge, the so-called knowledge, is untrue. From untruth you cannot go on a journey of truth.
Remember, there is no actual difference between the learned and the ignorant, except that the learned believes that he knows, and the ignorant knows that he does not know. But then the ignorant is in a better position.
An American lady who speaks no French takes her little daughter to the Paris zoo. They stop in front of a cage with porcupines inside and read a sign that says, Porcupi Africain, Porcupi Australian.
This puzzles them because the porcupines all look just about the same. So the mother goes up to the guard who is standing nearby and says, “Monsieur, do you speak English?”
The guard touches his cap and says, “Madame, I speak only very little English. What is it Madame wishes to know?”
“Would you tell us please what is the difference between the Australian porcupine and the African porcupine?”
“It is this, Madame, the prick of the African porcupine is longer than the prick of the Australian porcupine.”
The lady is horrified and rushes off with her daughter until she finds the superintendent of the zoo.
“Monsieur,” she says, “do you speak English?”
“Madame,” says the superintendent, “I have been speaking English for many years. I have studied at Oxford and in fact I can speak as well as you. What does Madame wish to know?”
So she tells him with great indignation the awful thing that the guard has just said in front of her and her little girl.