He was praying in a certain place, and when he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray just as John taught his disciples.” 2 He said to them, “When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come. 3 Give us each day our daily bread 4 and forgive us our sins for we ourselves forgive everyone in debt to us, and do not subject us to the final test.”
5 And he said to them, “Suppose one of you has a friend to whom he goes at midnight and says, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread, 6 for a friend of mine has arrived at my house from a journey and I have nothing to offer him,’ 7 and he says in reply from within, ‘Do not bother me; the door has already been locked and my children and I are already in bed. I cannot get up to give you anything.’ 8 I tell you, if he does not get up to give him the loaves because of their friendship, he will get up to give him whatever he needs because of his persistence.
9 “And I tell you, ask and you will receive; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. 10 For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. 11 What father among you would hand his son a snake when he asks for a fish? 12 Or hand him a scorpion when he asks for an egg? 13 If you then, who are wicked, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the Father in heaven give the holy Spirit to those who ask him?”
When the disciples watched Jesus in prayer, they saw something so intimate and compelling that one of them asked, “Lord, teach us to pray” (v. 1). Unlike other religious teachers who might have given a method or formula, Jesus offers them a relationship. His answer is not merely a set of words but a path into the heart of the Father.
The prayer Jesus teaches, known to us as the Our Father, is both a model and a mystery. It begins not with petitions for earthly needs but with an orientation toward God: “Father, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come” (v. 2). In these opening words, Jesus draws His disciples into the divine desire—that God's holiness would be recognized and His reign embraced. This mirrors the worship found in the Psalms (cf. Ps. 103:1; 145:1) and recalls the prophetic longing for God’s Kingdom (cf. Is. 52:7; Dan. 2:44).
Though the words are new, the structure and spirit of the Our Father flow from the wellsprings of Israel’s prayer. Far from being a departure from the Old Covenant, Jesus' prayer is a fulfillment of the way God’s people have always been taught to pray—with adoration, petition, thanksgiving, and repentance. The Psalms, which were the prayer book of Israel, are filled with cries for mercy, praise for God’s name, longing for the Kingdom, and trust in daily providence (cf. Ps. 51; Ps. 103; Ps. 145). In this sense, the Our Father gathers up the voice of Israel and perfects it in the voice of the Son, who now invites us to share in His own relationship with the Father. It is a continuity that fulfills: not replacing what came before, but transfiguring it in light of the New Covenant. As Moses taught the people to intercede, and Isaiah taught them to revere the holiness of God, Jesus now teaches His disciples to speak to God not only as Lord and King, but as Father—a name that brings both reverence and closeness.
Jesus then turns to human needs—daily bread, forgiveness, and deliverance from trial. Yet even these petitions are steeped in trust and humility. The word for “daily” (Greek: epiousios) is rare and mysterious, sometimes interpreted as “supersubstantial” (cf. Mt 6:11, Douay-Rheims), pointing not only to food for the body but also to the Bread of Life, who is Christ Himself (cf. Jn 6:35). This aligns with Catholic teaching that sees in this petition both a call to trust in God’s providence and an implicit reference to the Eucharist, the “daily bread” of the soul—a view held by early Christian writers such as St. Cyprian (c. 200–258) and St. Augustine (354–430), who saw in this line a spiritual hunger for Christ Himself.
Jesus continues by telling a parable about a man who knocks on his friend’s door at midnight, asking for bread. The message is clear: perseverance in prayer matters. Not because God is reluctant, but because prayer shapes the one who asks. The persistence is not about pestering God into action—it is about remaining open to His timing, His will, and His transformation of our desires.
Here, Luke uses a literary progression: ask... seek... knock (v. 9). Each verb implies increasing intensity. In a beautiful promise, Jesus declares, “For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened” (v. 10). These words reflect the generosity of God—a generosity foreshadowed in the Old Testament (cf. Jer. 29:12–14; Ps. 34:5) and made manifest in Christ, fully human and fully divine, who is the Door (cf. Jn 10:9).
Yet Jesus goes further still: He lifts our eyes from the act of praying to the identity of the One to whom we pray. God is not like the annoyed friend; He is a Father who gives good gifts to His children. And the greatest gift? “The Holy Spirit to those who ask him” (v. 13). This is the heart of Christian prayer—not just requests granted but communion with God Himself. The giving of the Spirit is the fulfillment of promises made through the prophets (cf. Ez. 36:26–27; Joel 3:1) and fulfilled at Pentecost (Acts 2:1–4).
The continuity between the Old and New Testaments is striking: The God who revealed Himself to Moses as compassionate and faithful (Ex. 34:6) is now revealed by and in Jesus as a Father who is intimately involved in the lives of His children. He desires to feed them, forgive them, guide them, and dwell in them by His Spirit.
Jesus’ teaching on prayer is not a technique but a theological revelation. The Son, who eternally communes with the Father, invites us into that same relationship—not as servants, but as sons and daughters (cf. Gal. 4:6–7). In prayer, we are not manipulating God’s will, but conforming ours to His. We are not knocking on a stranger’s door but coming home to our Father, who welcomes us with open arms. We were made for communion, we wandered far, and now the door of prayer is the door back home.
Lord, teach us to pray with childlike trust and perseverance. May we ask with humility, seek with hope, and knock with the confidence that You delight to open the door. Fill us with Your Holy Spirit, and draw us ever deeper into the mystery of Your love. Amen.
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Sources and References
- The Holy Bible, New American Bible, Revised Edition (2011).
- The Navarre Bible: Luke, Faculty of the University of Navarre (2008).
- A Catholic Commentary on Holy Scripture, ed. Orchard et al. (1953).
- The Paulist Biblical Commentary, ed. Chiu et al. (2018).
- Catechism of the Catholic Church, §§2761–2766, 2828–2837, 2846–2849.
- St. Cyprian of Carthage, On the Lord’s Prayer (c. 250).
- St. Augustine, Letter to Proba on Prayer (Ep. 130; 412 A.D.).
- St. John Chrysostom, Homilies on Prayer.
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