The Longing to See the Real Jesus: Breaking Through the Barriers of Belief

There are two biblical characters I’ve always felt particularly close to—Nicodemus and Zacchaeus. Both of them longed to see Jesus.  

Nicodemus yearned to see Jesus. Yet, he could not do so openly in daylight. As a prominent leader, he feared the scrutiny—the questions, the accusations, even threats to his life. But his desire was so overwhelming that he waited until nightfall, when shadows concealed his visit, and finally stood before the One he sought.  

Zacchaeus, too, burned with a desperate need to see Jesus. His small stature made it impossible to peer over the crowds. But his hunger for encounter drove him to climb a sycamore tree, defying dignity for a single glimpse of the passing Teacher.  

For both of them, what they had about Jesus was merely hearsay. They heard many people saying many things about Jesus. They deeply longed to see, hear, and truly know the reality of Jesus. Their intense longing overcame the obstacles.    

The reason I felt a connection with these two was simple—I, too, had a burning desire to truly know Jesus. From a young age, I had heard many things about Him from different people. Like them, I yearned to know the truth about Jesus.  

Today, we who wish to see Jesus as he truly is face a different challenge.  

We were raised on two millennia of doctrines: Jesus, the second person of the Trinity, born of a virgin, worker of miracles, crucified and resurrected, ascended to heaven, seated at the Father’s right hand. These beliefs are the bedrock of our faith, recited daily without question.  

Yet, paradoxically, these very convictions can become walls between us and the real Jesus.  

Some of the people who met Jesus in the flesh had similar beliefs. Some wondered if He was Elijah returned, or John the Baptist reborn. Others dared hope He was the promised Messiah. But Jesus never confirmed these assumptions. He knew that labels—even flattering ones—could distort understanding, that fixed ideas about Him would deafen ears to His true message about the Kingdom of God.  

The children who came to Him with their mothers saw without filters. They asked no questions of divinity or dogma; they simply knew love when they met it. Like them, we must shed the weight of centuries—the layers of interpretation, the doctrines that harden like stone—and seek Him with the clarity of a child’s trust.  

To see Jesus as He is, we must first unsee what we’ve been taught He should be. It is not easy. Two thousand years of tradition loom like a mountain. But if our hunger is fierce enough—if we are willing to climb trees, to come in secret, to let go of what we think we know—then we, too, will find Him.  

Who Am I?

Wouldn’t it have been wonderful if a word had only one meaning, and if only one word were used to express a meaning!

But in all our languages, each word usually has multiple meanings, and each idea can often be expressed using many words. So, in any specific context, the actual meaning of a word must be guessed or inferred.

This introduction is to help us explore the meaning of a very commonly used word — the word “I”. When someone says “I”, what exactly do they mean?

When we say “I”, it doesn't refer to you, he, she, it, we, or they. It refers to the person speaking — that is, the word “I” is used to indicate oneself.

However, if we assume that this is the only meaning of the word “I”, we would be mistaken. The 20th-century sage Ramana Maharshi, who lived in Tamil Nadu, had a spiritual awakening because of the question: “Who am I?” The “I” in his question doesn’t merely refer to the person who is speaking.

To understand what he meant, let’s consider an analogy. A human being is like a phone — a small computer made up of hardware and software. We know that the hardware is what can be seen and touched, while the software — like the operating system and apps — cannot be seen or touched.

Yet, even if a phone has both hardware and software, it cannot function unless electricity flows through it. Without electric power, a phone is “dead.”

So, just like a phone needs three components — hardware, software, and electricity — to work, it also needs an internet connection to be truly useful. Only then can we connect with people anywhere in the world and access all kinds of information instantly.

Similarly, a human being is a combination of multiple components: hardware (body) and software (mind). The body is visible and tangible, but the mind is invisible and intangible.

Even if both body and mind are present, a person is not alive unless life-energy (or life force) flows through them. Just like electricity is essential for a phone, life is essential for a human.

And just like a phone becomes fully functional only with internet connectivity, a human being becomes fully alive through consciousness or awareness.

So, when Ramana Maharshi asked, “Who am I?”, he was referring to these four components — body, mind, life, and consciousness — and asking: Which of these is truly “I”?

When we refer to a phone, we usually mean its hardware and software. Likewise, when we say “I”, we usually mean the human person — our body and mind.

But if there is no life within, what remains is a dead body. Since we are aware of this life-force, we acknowledge its presence. Yet, most people are not aware of that fourth vital component: consciousness.

Just as internet connectivity makes a phone most useful, consciousness is what makes a human truly human. That is the answer to Ramana Maharshi’s question “Who am I?” — I am not my body, I am not my mind, I am not even the life-force flowing through me, I am consciousness.

On the level of hardware and software, each phone is different. But the electricity flowing through all phones, and the internet connecting them, are the same. Likewise, on the level of body and mind, each person is different from the other. But on the level of life and consciousness, differences disappear.

That’s because one life animates all humans, and the consciousness present in every human is one and the same.

That a human is not merely body and mind is a profound insight. People with this realization do not fear disease or death. Such people find it easy to see every human as equally human. They don’t judge others based on skin color, beauty, or health. They do not discriminate.

When we greet someone by saying “Namaste,” we are not addressing their body or mind, but rather honoring the consciousness that resides within them: "I bow to that which dwells within you."