Among the intriguing stories that have come down from the tradition of the Sufi masters, the famous one about a Muslim mulla, or cleric, named Nasrudin has long been my favorite. This is the version found in a book called Soul Food: Stories to Nourish the Spirit and the Heart, edited by Kornfield and Feldman.
“Mulla Nasrudin was outside on his hands and knees below a lantern when a friend walked up. ‘What are you doing, Mulla?’ his friend asked. ‘I’m looking for my key. I’ve lost it.’
So his friend got down on his hands and knees too and they both searched for a long time in the dirt beneath the lantern. Finding nothing, his friend finally turned to him and asked, ‘Where exactly did you lose it?’
Nasruddin replied, ‘I lost it in the house, but there is more light out here.’”
When I told this story to a group of elder seekers recently, they seemed thoroughly baffled. “What does it mean,” they urgently wanted to know. “Does such a nonsensical story mean anything at all?”
Without examining the contents piece by piece, we can say that the story has an immediate impact on us. It challenges us to ponder, to step back and question our ordinary values. Across the centuries, it speaks to us of a mentality that the modern world has lost.
Like all good stories from the great tradition, this one admits of many different interpretations and spiritual benefits. Here follow a few of my reflections on the anecdote, reflections I offer in the hope of stirring you to think about other meanings. The first thing that strikes me about the story is that the actions of Nasruddin are illogical. Right from the beginning of his search, he knows, of course, that the key is not in the yard but rather somewhere within his house. Nonetheless, he keeps looking for it outside in the ground.
There is something about the life of the spirit that defies reason and logic. The search for the deepest meaning goes beyond what can be defined. This search is a matter of the heart rather than of the mind.
Anyone who expects to make progress along the spiritual path cannot rely simply upon rational analysis. As the French thinker Blaise Pascal says, “The heart has reasons that reason knows not of.”
Another lesson that emerges from the story is the supreme importance of the light. It does not matter that the key remains hidden within the house; by staying outside under the lantern, Nasruddin remains in the light. To him enlightenment is infinitely more precious than any material possession, even the key that locks the door of his house.
Every spiritual tradition values enlightenment supremely. Wanting to walk in the light is the prayer of all who aspire to progress of soul. Once having caught a glimpse of the light, then everything else seems less valuable.
And why does Nasruddin treat his friend so badly? By allowing him to stay for hours on his hands and knees fumbling around in the dirt, he forces him to waste time and effort.
Actually, as a spiritual master, Nasruddin knows that he is sharing with his friend a valuable lesson. Could he have taught this lesson any more forcefully than by drawing his friend into his own apparently fruitless activity?
Also, whatever the success of the search, we all need other people in our striving for the truth. The search becomes much more humanly valuable when we have at least one other person allied with us. It’s of vital importance to find like-minded people who value the things that we value.
Finally, hearers of the story can learn something about staying open to surprise and gift. We cannot calculate with certainty what is going to help us progress on the way toward truth. Human activity is ultimately less important on that path than what one receives from above. As Jesus says, “ the Spirit moves blows where it will.”
Searchers will inevitably encounter frustrations in their quest for the light. But every seeker after truth is already a gifted person. Just the desire to find God, truth, spirit, is a precious gift bestowed on the searcher from above.
Richard Griffin