4th Sunday of Lent – ‘Lord I Believe; Help My Unbelief’ Adult Education Class

This week we celebrated the mid-point of the Lenten fast. We’ve had the Cross out in the church and heard words that encourage us to enjoin ourselves to the Cross as the not of this world ’refuge of all men’.

The Cross is the haven of the storm-tossed, the guide and support of those that go astray, the glory of Christ, the power of the apostles and the prophets, the strength of God’s athletes, the refuge of all men. We see it set before us in this time of fasting and we venerate it.

Heal my brokenness, O King of all, crucified upon the Cross in thy surpassing love. Thy hands and feet were pierced with nails, Thy side was wounded with the spear, and Thou wast given vinegar and gall to drink, who art the joy of all men, their sweetness, glory and eternal redemption.

The Fast that brings us blessings has now reached its midmost point: it has helped us to receive God’s grace in the days that are past, and it will bring us further benefit in the days still to come. For by continuing in what is right we attain yet greater gifts. We therefore cry to Christ, the Giver of all good: O Thou who for our sakes hast fasted and endured the Cross, make us worthy to share uncondemned in Thy divine Passover. May we spend our lives in peace and rightly glorify Thee with the Father and the Spirit.

Triodion Matins/Vespers Wednesday/Friday 4th Week

This Sunday we venerate St. John Climacus and his great work ’The Ladder of Divine Ascent’. In our Vigil we’ll sing these powerful words that unite him to the Cross and as a guide for our own Lenten journeys.

O holy father John, through faith thou hast lifted up thy mind on wings to God; hating the restless confusion of this world, thou has taken up thy Cross; and following Him who sees all things, though has subjected thy rebellious body to His guidance through ascetic discipline, by the power of the Holy Spirit

O holy father John, truly hast though ever carried on thy lips the praises of the Lord, and with great wisdom has thou studied the words of Holy Scripture that teach us how to practice the ascetic life. So hast thou gained the riches of grace, and thou has become blessed, overthrowing all the purposes of the ungodly.

Triodion Vespers 4th Sunday of Lent

During this week’s class time, I’d like us to focus on the Gospel reading (Mark 9: 17-31) for today and the humility and honesty of the appeal ’Lord I believe, help my unbelief’. I’d also like us to do a deep dive into the Prayer of St. Ephraim and what lessons it has for us as we now enter the second half of our Lenten journey.

I’ll print the following articles for our class Sunday:

During the week, I posted some additional articles that you may find relevant and useful as we prepare for class:

“Lord I Believe ; Help My Unbelief”- Homily for 4th Sunday of Lent

Father Phillip LeMasters

Sometimes we stand before God with more doubt than belief, with more despair than hope. Sometimes our worries and fears increase; the joy of life slips away and we feel rotten. Maybe it’s our health, the problems of our loved ones, stress about a busy schedule, or other matters at home, at work, or with our friends. We are sometimes simply at the end of our rope.

If you feel that way today or ever have in your life, you can begin to sympathize with the father of the demon-possessed young man in today’s gospel reading. Since childhood, his son had had life-threatening seizures and convulsions. With the broken heart of a parent who has little hope for his child’s healing, the man cries out, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” Christ’s disciples had lacked the spiritual strength to cast out the demon, but the Lord Himself healed him. We can only imagine how grateful the man and his son were for this blessing.

And imagine how embarrassed the disciples were. The Lord had referred to them as part of a “faithless generation” and asked how long he would have to put with them. He told them that demons like this “can come out by nothing but prayer and fasting,” spiritual exercises designed to strengthen our faith and to purify our souls. Not only were the disciples unable to cast out the demon, they could not even understand the Savior’s prediction of His own death and resurrection. At this point in the journey, they were not great models of faithfulness.

In fact, the best example of faithfulness in this story is the unnamed father. He wants help for his child, and he tells the truth about himself. His faith was imperfect; he had doubts; his hopes for his son’s healing had been crushed many times before. He said to Christ, “If you can do anything, have compassion on us.” In other words, he wasn’t entirely sure if the Lord could heal his son. All that he could do was to cry out with tears, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.”

And in doing so, he showed that he had the spiritual clarity that the disciples lacked, for he knew the weakness of his faith. Still, with every ounce of his being He called to the Lord for mercy. He received it and the young man was set free.

If we have taken Lent seriously at all this year, we will have become at least a bit like this honest father when our struggles with spiritual disciplines have shown us our weakness. When we pray, we often welcome distractions; and it’s so easy not to pray at all. When we set out to fast from food or something else to which we have become too attached, we often become angry and frustrated. When we try to forgive and be reconciled with others, memories of past wrongs and fears about the future often overcome our good intentions. We wrestle with our passions just a bit, and they get the better of us. We so easily do, think, and say things that aren’t holy at all. We put so much else before loving God and our neighbors. Lent is good at breaking down our illusions of holiness, at giving us a clearer picture of our spiritual state. And often we don’t like what we see.

If that’s where you are today, take heart, for Jesus Christ came to show mercy upon people like the father in our gospel lesson. That man knew his weakness, he did not try to hide it, and he honestly threw himself on the mercy of the Lord. He made no excuses; he did not justify himself; he did not complain. He did not hide his doubt and frustration before God. He did not wallow in wounded pride, obsess about his imperfections, or worry about what someone else would think of him. Instead, he simply acknowledged the truth about his situation and called upon Christ with every ounce of his being for help with a problem that had broken his heart.

We don’t know how religious this man appeared to anyone else.   Perhaps his fasting had been his many years of selfless struggle to care for his son; perhaps his prayers had always been focused on the boy’s healing.  But we do know that this man, in humility and honesty, received the mercy of Jesus Christ when he called to Him. 

With whatever level of spiritual clarity we possess, with whatever amount of faith in our souls, with whatever doubts, fears, weaknesses, and sins that beset us, let us all follow his example of opening the wounds of our hearts and lives to the Lord.  Jesus Christ heard this man’s prayer; He brought new life to his son.  And He will do the same for us, when we fall before Him in honest repentance, knowing that our only hope is in the great mercy that He has always shown to sinners like you and me whose faith leaves a lot to be desired.

If we need a reminder of the importance of taking Confession this Lent, this gospel passage should help us. Christ did not reject a father who was brutally honest about his imperfect faith, but instead responded to his confession with abundant grace, healing, and love. He will do the same for each of us who stand before His icon with the humble plea for forgiveness, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” There is no better way to prepare to follow our Savior to the agony of the cross and the joy of the empty tomb.

Finding ‘God With Us’

I love this short article. It’s powerful in waking us up to what Archbishop Kallistos Ware describes as being ’conscious of our dependance on God’. It’s also helpful in relating our cross to His as we venerate the Cross this week. It’s helpful for me to remain clear about what we are doing and why we are doing it as we now now enter the home stretch of our Lenten journey together.

God With Us – By Father Stephen Freeman

Popular New Age thought postulates that everyone has a “god within.” It’s a pleasant way of saying that we’re all special while making “god” to be rather banal. But there is a clear teaching of classical Christianity regarding Christ-within-us, and it is essential to the Orthodox way of life.

We should not understand our relationship with God to be an “external” matter, as if we were one individual and God another. Our union with God, birthed in us at Holy Baptism, is far more profound.

“He who is joined to the Lord is one spirit with Him.” (1Co 6:17)

God does not “help” us in the manner of encouraging us or simply arranging for things to work out. Rather, He is in us, working in union with our work. The mystery of ascesis (the practice of prayer, fasting, self-denial, etc.) only makes true sense in this context. Those who look at Orthodoxy from the outside often accuse us of practicing “works-righteousness,” meaning that we believe we can earn favor with God by doing good works. This is utterly false. God’s good favor is His gift and cannot be earned.

However, the Orthodox life is similar to the life of Christ Himself.

“Truly, I say to you, the Son can do nothing of Himself, but what He sees the Father do; for whatever He does, the Son also does in like manner.  (Joh 5:19)

and

“Truly, I say to you, he who believes in Me, the works that I do he will do also; and greater works than these he will do, because I go to My Father. (Joh 14:12)

The “works” that a Christian does, are properly done in union with Christ, such that the works are not those of an individual, but of our common life with and in Christ. When we fast, it is Christ who fasts in us. When we pray, it is Christ who prays in us. When we give alms it is Christ who gives alms in us.

And we should understand that Christ-in-us longs to fast. Christ-in-us longs to pray. Christ-in-us longs to show mercy. The disciplines of the Church are not a prescription for behaving ourselves or a map of moral perfection. Rather, the commandments of Christ (as manifest in the life of the Church) are themselves a description, an icon of Christ Himself.

 Jesus answered and said to him, “If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him and make Our home with him.” (Joh 14:2)

Dumitru Staniloae notes:

At the beginning Christ is, so to speak, buried in the commandments and in us, in the measure in which we are committed to them, by His power which is in us. By this collaboration we gain the virtues as living traits; they reflect the image of the Lord, and Christ is raised even brighter from under these veils. (Orthodox Spirituality)

This way of “union” is the very heart of Orthodox faith and practice. Sadly, much of Christianity has created an “extrinsic” view of our relationship with God and the path of salvation. In this, God is seen as exterior to our life, our relationship with Him being analogous to the individualized contractual relationships of modern culture. As such the Christian relationship with God is reduced to psychology and morality.

It is reduced to psychology in that the concern is shifted to God’s “attitude” towards us. The psychologized atonement concerns itself with God’s wrath. It is reduced to morality in that our behavior is no more than our private efforts to conform to an external set of rules and norms. We are considered “good” or “bad” based on our performance, but without regard to the nature of that performance. St. Paul says that “whatsoever is not of faith is sin.” Only our lives-lived-in-union-with-Christ have the nature of true salvation, true humanity. This is the proper meaning of being “saved by grace.”

…for it is God who works in you both to will and to do for Hisgood pleasure. (Phi 2:13)

and

You are of God, little children, and have overcome them, because He who is in you is greater than he who is in the world. (1Jo 4:4)

and

To them, God willed to make known what are the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles: which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. (Col 1:27)

There is a second part of this mystery (Christ in us) that presses its importance upon us. This is the suffering of Christ within us. Fr. Staniloae writes:

Jesus takes part in all our sufferings, making them easier. He helps us with our struggle against temptations and sin; He strives with us in our quest for virtues: He uncovers our true nature from under the leaves of sin. St. Maximus comments: Until the end of the world He always suffers with us, secretly, because of His goodness according to [and in proportion to] the suffering found in each one.

The Cross recapitulates the suffering and sin of humanity, but it extends throughout the life and experience of all people. It is the foundation of Christ’s statement: “Inasmuch as you did it [did it not] unto the least of these my brethren, you did it [did it not] unto me.

The hypostatic union of the person of Christ extends into the life of every person. There is something of a perichoresis or coinherence in our daily relationship with Christ.

And if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; or if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it. (1Co 12:26)

This must be given  the strongest possible reading. If any one of us suffers, Christ suffers. There is no specific human suffering to which Christ is alien.

It is the moment-by-moment pressing into this commonality (koinonia) that is the foundation of Christian existence. It is the point of Baptism (buried with Him). It is the point of the Eucharist (“whosoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him”). It is the point of every action and thought.

It is the life of grace.

Part I & II in the Steps of the Ladder of Divine Ascent

Father Vassilios Papavassiliou in his excellent book, Thirty Steps To Heaven, groups the 30 steps from the Ladder Of Divine Ascent into 7 parts. This article will examine the first two of these parts in some detail. Each step begins with a high level quote from the Ladder that outlines the step. This quote is then followed by a short extract of Father Papavassiliou’s commentary for that step. The article also outlines the additional parts and the steps associated with them.

Part 1 – Break With The World

Step 1 – Renunciation

A friend of God is the one who lives in communion with all that is natural and free from sin and who does not neglect to do what good he can. The self-controlled man strives with all his might amidst the trials, the snares, and the noise of the world, to be like someone who rises above them.

Every Christian is called to a life of renunciation: “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me. For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will save it” (Luke 9: 23–24).

Before baptism, we “renounce Satan, and all his works, and all his angels, and all his worship, and all his solemn rites.”

Christ tells us, “My kingdom is not of this world. If My kingdom were of this world, My servants would fight . . . but now My kingdom is not from here” (John 18: 36). Therefore, those who follow Him are not of the world either: “If you were of the world, the world would love its own. Yet because you are not of this world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you” (John15:19)

St. Paul warns us, ”Do not be conformed to the pattern of this world” (Rom. 12:2)

Step 2 – Detachment

Derided, mocked, jeered, you must accept the denial of your will. You must patiently endure opposition, suffer neglect without complaint, put up with violent arrogance. You must be ready for injustice, and not grieve when you are slandered; you must not be angered by contempt and you must show humility when you have been condemned. Happy are those who follow this road and avoid other highways. Theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Derided, mocked, jeered, you must accept the denial of your will. You must patiently endure opposition, suffer neglect without complaint, put up with violent arrogance. You must be ready for injustice, and not grieve when you are slandered; you must not be angered by contempt and you must show humility when you have been condemned. Happy are those who follow this road and avoid other highways. Theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Detachment from pride is the imitation of Christ, because if anyone did not deserve to be derided, mocked, jeered, beaten, and put to death, it is Christ. Who are we to think that we deserve better than He? “Yet our pride makes us think we deserve respect, dignity, comfort. And if we think as the world thinks, we may be right. Wicked people do wicked things and get everything they want, while good people suffer. Where is the justice in that? But as Christians who have renounced the ways and, indeed, the justice of the world (for Christ’s sacrifice was by no means justice, but mercy), we are to compare ourselves not to others, but to Christ alone.

Step 3 – Exile

Exile is a disciplined heart, unheralded wisdom, an unpublicized understanding, a hidden life, masked ideals. It is unseen meditation, the striving to be humble, a wish for poverty, the longing for what is divine. It is an outpouring of love, a denial of vainglory, a depth of silence. . . . Yet for all that it is praiseworthy, it requires discretion, since not every kind of exile is good if taken to extremes.

If we have renounced the world and detached ourselves from worldly ways, then we live on this earth as exiles. “For here we have no continuing city, but we seek the one to come” (Heb. 13: 14). St. John Chrysostom writes:

If you are a Christian, no earthly city is yours. Of our City “the Builder and Maker is God.” [Heb. 11: 10] Though we may gain possession of the whole world, we are withal but strangers and sojourners in it all! We are enrolled in heaven: our citizenship is there! 5

Spiritual exile often means that we have very different, sometimes completely opposite, values from the world in which we live. Consider the above passage from the Ladder and how against the grain of worldly standards this is. We live in an age where self-promotion, competition, wealth, and fame are considered good. For some, these things constitute the very goal of life. To live as an exile, on the other hand, is to remain unheralded, unpublicized, hidden, masked, unseen; it is the striving to be humble, a wish for poverty . . . a denial of vainglory.

Christians are not often exempt from the desire for fame, self-promotion, and worldly glory. A great temptation for us Christians is to use our faith as a pious excuse for satisfying these passions, all the while fooling ourselves into thinking that some higher purpose is what motivates us. So often we want everything we do for the Church, every good deed, every effort we make in Christ’s name, to be praised, announced, and publicized. It is so easy to say to oneself, “I am doing it for God,” “I must spread the gospel,” “I must share my faith,” “I must be the light of the world,” when our true motive is to satisfy our ego. This is why detachment precedes exile. For only when we have detached ourselves from the things of this world can we sincerely act in God’s name, and not in our own, while using “God” or “Church” as a cloak to cover our otherwise naked vanity.

But St. John also warns us that exile requires discretion, since not every kind of exile is good if taken to extremes.

Part 2 – The Fundamental Virtues

Step 4 – Obedience

Obedience is unquestioned movement, death freely accepted, a simple life, danger faced without worry, an unprepared defense before God, fearlessness before death, a safe voyage, a sleeper’s journey. Obedience is the burial place of the will and the resurrection of lowliness.

The first fundamental virtue of the Ladder is obedience. As flower comes before every fruit, so exile of body or will precedes all obedience. But why is obedience a virtue? Many regard it as something for the weak, something that does not become a “real man.” The only time it is tolerated is when it is considered a necessity. If soldiers did not obey their commanding officers, the army would be a shambles, and this in turn would threaten national security.

But this is not the obedience of which we speak. The virtue of obedience is rooted not in fearful pragmatism, but in humility. True obedience, like true love, cannot be forced—it must be free. Obedience and humility go hand in hand. They feed and nourish one another. We cannot learn obedience without humility, and we cannot acquire humility without obedience. Together, these two virtues can take us to the very heights of spiritual perfection.

From obedience comes humility. . . . And from humility comes discernment. Take courage from this. For if you are able to do something as basic and simple as to obey, then you are already on your way to learning one of the greatest and highest virtues of all: humility.

Step 5 – Repentance

Repentance is the renewal of baptism and is a contract with God for a fresh start in life.

The Greek word for repentance, metanoia, means “to have a change of heart or mind,” while the Greek word for sin, hamartia, means “to miss the mark.” Now if sin means missing the mark, then repentance means getting back on target. It is only when we understand repentance in this way that we can comprehend it as an ongoing, positive, and creative process.

Repentance lies at the very heart of Christian life. The preaching of our Lord Himself began with repentance: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matt. 4: 17). All orthodox Christians have taught that there is no salvation without it. St. John of the Ladder is no exception:

It is impossible for those of us who have fallen into the sink of iniquity ever to be drawn out of it unless we also plumb the depths of the humility shown by the penitent.

It is clear that repentance, like obedience, is rooted in humility. A proud person cannot repent, for repentance allows no room for ego and conceit. Pride blinds us to our own sins, while we go on hating those very same sins when we see them in others. Humility alone is capable of seeing the truth, of enabling us to see ourselves as we really are.

Step 6 – Remembrance of Death

The remembrance of death . . . produces freedom from daily worries and breeds constant prayer and guarding of the mind, virtues that are the cause and the effect of the thought of death.

Many of us live in a death-denying culture. People do not want to talk about death or even think about it, as though pretending it will never happen can somehow stop its inevitability. While phrases such as “death comes to us all” and “death is a natural part of life” have become clichés, deep down many behave as though death only happened to other people—people they do not know or like or care about. When a loved one dies, even at a ripe old age, the faith of some Christians is shaken. This is because we are so busy driving the remembrance of death from our minds that we actually forget it is a certain and unavoidable fact.

On the one hand, the fear of death is natural, but we must not confuse this natural fear and the survival instinct with an unhealthy terror. As St. John writes:

Fear of death is a property of nature due to disobedience, but terror of death is a sign of unrepented sins. . . . Tin has a way of looking like silver but is of course quite different; and for those with discernment, the difference between natural and contranatural fear of death is most obvious. You can clearly single out those who hold the thought of death at the center of their being, for they freely withdraw from everything created and they renounce their will. . . . The Fathers assert that perfect love is sinless. And it seems to me that in the same way a perfect sense of death is free from fear.

The remembrance of death is closely linked to repentance, which is why it is the step that follows it. All Fathers of the Orthodox Church have taught that repentance is the purpose of our life. Death brings repentance to an end. What follows death is the fulfillment and consummation of our relationship with God here and now. So in Christian spirituality, the remembrance of death is, above all else, the remembrance of the Judgement.

Step 7 – Mourning

The tears that come after baptism are greater than baptism itself, though it may seem rash to say so. Baptism washes off those evils that were previously within us, whereas the sins committed after baptism are washed away by tears. The baptism received by us as children we have all defiled, but we cleanse it anew with our tears.

Repentance and meditation on death lead to mourning. Thus mourning is the step that follows them. But the mourning of which St. John speaks is not the kind we are all accustomed to. The Ladder refers to tears and mourning as a divine gift. It is a gift difficult for those who do not possess it to understand, and it is not easy to distinguish between natural tears and divinely given tears. As St. John writes:

Many of the Fathers declare that this problem of tears, especially where it concerns beginners, is a very obscure matter and hard to analyze since tears can come about in various ways. Tears come from nature, from God, from suffering good and bad, from vainglory, from licentiousness, from love, from remembrance of death, and from numerous other causes. Having trained ourselves in all these ways by the fear of God, let us acquire the pure and guileless tears that come with the remembrance that we must die. There is nothing false in these, no sop to self-esteem. Rather do they purify us, lead us on in love of God, wash away our sins and drain away our passions.

Step 8 – Meekness / Loss of Anger

Meekness is a permanent condition of the soul which remains unaffected by whether or not it is spoken well of, whether or not it is honored or praised.

We tend to think of meekness as a personality trait. When we hear the word meek, we usually think of someone softly spoken, easily pushed around, someone who never raises his voice, maybe even someone who is weak. But meekness is not the same as weakness, nor is it a particular kind of personality; it is a virtue, and, like all virtues, it cannot be judged by externals.

Our Lord described Himself as meek (Matt. 11: 29), yet He smashed up the markets outside the temple in Jerusalem (John 2: 13–22); He denounced the Pharisees, scribes, and Sadducees as “hypocrites” and a “brood of vipers” and told them they were going to hell (Matt. 23: 13–33). He frequently rebuked His apostles and admonished the Israelites for their faithlessness (Luke 9: 41). He was no pushover, until He voluntarily gave Himself up to humiliation, violence, and death, even though as God He had the power—and, indeed, the right—to destroy His oppressors on the spot.

As Christians we are called to take up Christ’s yoke and imitate His meekness. This does not mean we are called to be doormats. Instead it means we are to endure wrongs humbly and patiently and to let go of our anger, which is the fruit of pride.

Part 3 – The Spiritual Passions

Step 9 – Remembrance of Wrongs/ Malice

Step 10 – Slander

Step 11 – Talkativeness and Silence

Step 12 – Falsehood

Step 13 – Despondency / Tedium

Part 4 – The Physical Passions

Step 14 Gluttony

Step 15 – Lust and Chastity

Step 16 – Avarice

Step 17 – Poverty

Part 5 – The Spiritual Passions (Continued)

Step 18 – Insensitivity / Lack of Awareness

Step 19 – Sleep, Prayer, and Church

Step 20 – Alertness

Step 21 – Fear

Step 22 – Vainglory

Step 23 – Pride

Part 6 – The Higher Virtues

Step 24 – Meekness/Simplicity

Step 25 – Humility

Step 26 – Discernment

Part 7 Union with God

Step 27 – Stillness

Step 28 – Prayer

Step 29 – Dispassion

Step 30 – Faith, Hope, and Love

Who is St. John Climacus and what is ’The Ladder of Divine Ascent’?

Father Vassilios Papavassiliou has written a book entitled ’Thirty Steps to Heaven’ about St. John Climacus’s famous book ’The Ladder of Divine Ascent’. This extract is from his introduction to his book which does a good job of making the principles of this classic more accessible to the modern day layperson

God is the life of all free beings. He is the salvation of all, of believers or unbelievers, of the just or the unjust, of the pious or the impious, of those freed from the passions or caught up in them, of monks or those living in the world, of the educated or the illiterate, of the healthy or the sick, of the young or the very old.

St. John Climacus

The Ladder of Divine Ascent is undoubtedly one of the most influential Christian texts ever written. Its author, St. John, is named after it—St. John Climacus (of the Ladder). He is known also as St. John of Sinai, the mountain in Egypt on which Moses saw God and received the Ten Commandments (see Exodus 3 and 31: 18), where John was a monk at the Monastery of St. Catherine.

The earliest record of monastic life on Sinai is from a travel journal written sometime between AD 381 and 384. When John arrived at St. Catherine’s Monastery at the age of sixteen, probably in the latter half of the sixth century, the monastic community was already well established. Three forms of monasticism were practiced on Sinai at that time: the communal, or cenobitic, form (a brotherhood living a life of common prayer and worship and shared resources, under the guidance of an abbot); the solitary, or eremitic, form (hermits, or anchorites, living alone in the surrounding desert); and the semi-eremitic form (small monastic communities, or sketes, consisting of a spiritual father and one or two other monks living together near the monastery grounds).

St. John of the Ladder came to experience all three forms of monasticism. Initially he lived the semi-eremitic life and then became an anchorite. During that time as a hermit, he occasionally received visitors—mostly fellow monks—and he soon developed a reputation for holiness and spiritual insight. After forty years as a solitary, he was elected abbot of St. Catherine’s Monastery.

It was during his time as abbot of the monastic brotherhood of St. Catherine that John wrote the Ladder of Divine Ascent, in response to a request from another abbot for a spiritual manual for monks. The Ladder describes in thirty steps the monk’s desired progress on the path of spiritual perfection. Soon after writing it, St. John resigned from his position as abbot and returned to solitude until his death, around the middle of the seventh century.

The influence of the Ladder soon extended beyond the monastic communities, and it has been read and loved by laypeople for centuries. Even outside of monasteries, where it is read liturgically during the Hours, many Orthodox Christians read the Ladder during Lent. Notwithstanding the book’s popularity, it is not always easy for normal laypeople to apply its teachings to their own lives—lives very different indeed from that which the Ladder addresses. Therefore, simple commentaries such as this (albeit written by someone far less advanced in the spiritual life than St. John) can be helpful.

While it would be misleading or even dangerous to deny that the Ladder was written exclusively for monks, by the same token it would be wrong to conclude from this that others have nothing at all to gain from reading monastic literature. But those who read such books should do so with discernment, particularly with guides or manuals such as the Ladder. It can be detrimental for a beginner to attempt the ascetical feats and religious practices and devotions of a seasoned veteran of the spiritual arena. But there is gold in the Ladder for all of us, if we have the diligence to seek it out and the maturity to sift through those things that are clearly not meant for us.

Another aspect of the Ladder of Divine Ascent worth considering is the very image of a ladder, of a climb and upward journey. Our spiritual journey requires patience and dogged persistence—taking one step at a time. Many have been speedily forgiven their sins. But no one has rapidly acquired dispassion, for this requires much time and longing, and God. No one can climb the entire ladder in a single stride. Nor do the steps of the ladder necessarily come in the same order for all people. One person struggles with a certain passion that another easily masters; yet the latter struggles far more with a different passion that the former easily overcomes. In other words, what is step ten for one person could be step twenty for another, and any given step may take many years to master.

We must not be impatient or hasty, for the climb is perilous. There is always a danger in seeking what is beyond our immediate reach. The famous icon of the Ladder of Divine Ascent clearly illustrates this—depicting monks falling from the heights into the abyss. Complacency and self-certainty are the most dangerous delusions we encounter in the spiritual life, and they are particularly acute for the most devout Christians. We would also do well to remember that spiritual perfection cannot be attained even by the saints. For dispassion is an uncompleted perfection of the perfect, while the last step of the Ladder, which is love, is an eternal step that we will never reach the end of, neither in this life nor in the world to come:

Love has no boundary, and both in the present and in the future age we will never cease to progress in it, as we add light to light.

St. John Climacus

If the spiritual battle seems hopeless and the struggle too much for you, do not be disheartened and do not give up. Our progress in virtue can often seem less like a ladder of ascent and more like a game of chutes and ladders. It would be wrong and a misunderstanding of St. John’s teaching to think that those who fail to reach the heights of spiritual perfection in this life are doomed: Not everyone can achieve dispassion. But all can be saved and can be reconciled to God. Falling and getting up again, starting over—this is what repentance and Christian devotion are all about.

One final word of warning: Very few people indeed will have climbed all thirty steps of the Ladder of Divine Ascent. If you think you have, you probably need to go back to the beginning.