In the Zone
Luke 11:9-13
“So I tell you, ask – it’ll be given to you; seek – you’ll find; knock
– it’ll be opened for you. Rest assured: everyone who asks
receives; everyone who seeks finds; and for the one who knocks it is
opened.”
This series of aphorisms is among the best known and – along with the
Beattitudes – most basic of Christian affirmations. It comes at
the end of Luke’s series on prayer. However, as we have seen, this particular
selection of sayings and the interpretation was purely Luke’s. Scholars
theorize that rather than being a promise of God’s answer to persistent
prayer, Jesus’s directive to ask, seek, and knock was an assurance that
those who take up the same kind of itinerant life Jesus led can expect
hospitality wherever they look for it, or ask for it. Even a
knock on the door at midnight would not be ignored.
Luke’s point was that God will provide whatever is asked, will reveal
whatever is sought, and will open the way to whomever knocks on God’s
door. He has Jesus expand on this by comparing God’s answer to
prayer with giving good gifts to one’s own children. But Luke’s
Jesus here abandons the prayer for daily provision of bread, which he
started with. Instead of food, “the heavenly Father will give
holy spirit to those who ask him.” Later, in the Gospel of John,
the emphasis shifted from God to Jesus. John’s Jesus says
“whatever you ask in my name will be granted to you” (John 14:13-14; 115:7, 16; 16:23).
Ultimately, the saying morphed into the icon from Revelation 3:20,
in which the Christ declares to the Church in Laodicea: “Listen!
I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the
door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me. To
the one who conquers I will give a place with me on my throne, just as
I myself conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne.”
The 1st Century transformation in the meaning of Jesus’s words is like
the viral transmutation of political speech in the 21st Century news
cycle. In less than a week in May 2010, the meaning of the
reported words of a candidate for the United States Senate evolved from
idealistic, libertarian theory to racist bigotry.
In less than 100 years from Jesus’s death, the expectation of
hospitable acceptance for wandering wisdom teachers became
justification for holy war.
Jesus’s original words to ask, seek, knock, and trust in the custom of
hospitality have become a magic spell. The U.S. Religious Landscape Survey,
conducted in 2007 by the Pew Research Center’s Forum on Religion &
Public Life, found that 60% pray daily, although the content of the
prayers was not broken down. While no one has done a survey of
the percentage of people in the general population who routinely pray
for parking spaces and find them, the efficacy of intercessory prayer
has been studied frequently. Unfortunately, the results are
inclusive at best. One study that
looked at complications arising after coronary surgery for patients
receiving intercessory prayer versus patients who were not prayed for
found a slight advantage in terms of fewer complications for those who
did NOT receive intercessory prayer.
With such murky findings, the fact that belief in the magic power of
prayer persists must be attributed to the mysterious way human
consciousness has developed. Perhaps we are hard-wired for hope
in hopeless situations. Or perhaps something else is going on.
Jesus was not originally talking about the answer to prayer, as Luke
and the tradition like to think. Jesus was invoking the ancient
rule of hospitality for itinerant travelers. Scholars are fairly
certain that Jesus depended on that rule for his and his disciples’
support as they traveled from village to village throughout the region
of Galilee. He had an expectation, based on complete trust in
God’s imperial rule, that he would find a hospitable response.
However, his followers did modify their own expectations in the
interest of practicality. As all three synoptic writers report,
if the disciples Jesus sent out did not find a welcome, the solution
was to “shake the dust from your feet” (Mark 6:11; Matthew 10:14; Luke
9:5). Matthew’s Jesus adds, “I swear to you, the land of Sodom
and Gomorrah will be better off at the judgment than that city [which
does not welcome you].” Sodom and Gomorrah, you may recall, was
the Old Testament poster child for the total breakdown of hospitality.
Jesus himself seems to have experienced a level of trust in God’s realm
that most humans find difficult or impossible except in rare
instances. If we take the words attributed to him in Matthew’s
Sermon on the Mount as his own, Jesus was able to live within the same
kind of seamless realm experienced by the birds and the lilies of the
field (Matthew 6:26). In that realm, there is no boundary between
creator and creation, God and humanity, or between the worlds of life
and death, spirit and flesh. For most of us, this experience
manifests as a quality of life where everything works without
effort. It’s a string of lucky circumstances; serendipity;
everything falls into place. Miraculous healing can happen
there. I call it “being in the zone.”
The difficulty of describing that kind of experience – in any language
– is clearly illustrated by what has happened to Jesus’s original
teachings over time. It is not a matter of simply saying the name
of Jesus, or petitioning God to intervene and change the physical laws
of the universe, even in company with two or three others. The
key, prosaic as it may be, seems to be the willingness to ride the
horse in the direction it is going. In other words, to ask, seek,
and knock with the expectation of receiving, finding, and opening the
way means to align oneself with the way things are. In Buddhist
terms, surrender. That does not
mean giving up. It means total acceptance of whatever is
happening now, with no concern about what any particular outcome may
be. While clear intent about the desired result may important,
the key is not to care.
The idea of “not caring” drives most of us crazy. How can we “not
care” about our mother dying, or our friend with terminal cancer, or
physical pain of any kind, or about torture victims, or the poor, or
any of the other kinds of suffering produced by disaster, whether from
natural or human causes? Those are the tough questions.
Entire books have been written about the answers. Tough or not,
the key to the end of suffering, the power that drives healing, is to
accept what is, right now. That means a radical indifference to
the nature of the ultimate resolution. Mother may die; the cancer
may win; the pain may only be alleviated with heavy doses of morphine;
the torture may not end; poverty may continue to condemn the rich;
disasters – of natural or human cause – may happen.
Jesus calls us into that radical indifference through trust. It
is a latter-day itinerancy, in which we let go of conventional ideas,
unnecessary possessions, market demands, and even life itself. We
cannot answer that call so long as we see ourselves as the victim of
our life circumstances, trapped in the normalcy of economic and
political systems, or determined by the lottery of our biological
heredity. Nor can we answer that call if we resist or resent what
happens to us, or if we ignore the realities of the world in which we
live. Tradition tells us that Jesus himself fell out of the zone
at the horrifying end of his life.
Even so, the message of Christianity is that even death on a cross does
not negate the truth of living in the zone – the realm of God – where
we ask, seek, knock and find whatever we need for abundant life.
But you can’t just point your magic wand and scream “Aguamenti!”
Before the water comes from the rock, or the door opens to your knock,
you have to trust the process.
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