THE LADDER OF DIVINE ASCENT BY JOHN CLIMACUS

STEP 4B

Since Lent has started, we are pausing our studies in Philokalia for a while to re-read the Ladder of Divine Ascent by St. John Climacus. With the exception of the Bible, writes Bishop Kallistos Ware in the introduction of this book, there is no other book as influential and foundational for Orthodox spirituality as the Ladder of Divine Ascent by St. John Climacus. It embodies the transformational journey that all Christians are capable of, and have a right to, from the tumult of passions and fragmentation to wholeness, inner stillness and unity with God. We use the edition, translated by Colm Luibheid and Norman Russell. Note, however, that my quotes are from a different, online translation. You can order the book from Amazon.

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In step #4, St. John brings up examples of obedience that are  jarring to the modern sensibility.

On a visit to a monastery, for example, St. John notices a monk, called Abbacyrus, who  is ill-treated and humiliated by all other monks. He has lived in the monastery for 17 years under this obedience. When asked about his apparent  sufferings, the monk responds joyfully that he  is thankful to God and the other monks for his humiliation and is  certain that the goal was to benefit his soul. He explains that during these 17 years, he has never had to battle the demons. The benefit of such state of peace is worth the  pain.

John mentions yet another example of extreme obedience. A monk named Macedonius, falsely confesses sins that he had not committed so he can gain humility through his subsequent punishment.  When John asks him why he is pursuing such a humiliating course of life, he responds:

Never’, he assured me, ‘have I felt in myself such relief from every conflict and such sweetness of divine light as now. It is the property of angels,’ he continued, ‘not to fall, and even, as some say, it is quite impossible for them to fall. It is the property of men to fall, and to rise again as often as this may happen. But it is the property of devils, and devils alone, not to rise once they have fallen.’

“Blessed is the monk who regards himself as hourly deserving every dishonour and disparagement,” St. John concludes… “He who will not accept a reproof, just or unjust, renounces his own salvation.”

Nothing could be more diametrically opposite to the secular point of view that equates “winning” with success in imposing our will. Our delusion stems from our belief  that we make the world (our children, home or workplace) right when we impose on them our sense of order. This belief burdens us with self-imposed responsibility. Instead of experiencing inner stillness we are constantly “on call” – judging, criticizing, maneuvering, controlling and, often conflicting with, others.

John asks us to compare the perceived extremity of total obedience with the extremity of anxiety in lives driven by our will and passions.

This anxiety has become such an intrinsic part of our daily lives that we are barely aware of it. Think about the latent unrest we experience at most moments of our lives, which we have come to perceive as “normal.”

In conversations we can hardly wait for someone of a different view to finish so we can insert our own opinion and set everyone straight. We can’t relax in the act of truly listening  because we are silently constructing brilliant responses. We are constantly scanning our environment to ascertain that we and our family are well perceived by others. We are quick to identify and respond to any possible sign of disapproval, disrespect, slander, or injustice against us. We are drowning in activities—kids’ sports, conferences, meetings, social events where we can meet people of influence, opportunities for being visible and influential. Not that any of these things are inherently bad of course. Yet driven by our will and desire to control, such impulses dominate. We can never experience inner peace.               

To achieve the goal of stillness of the soul, St. John advises meditation and restraint.

Control your wandering mind in your distracted body. Amidst the actions and movements of your limbs, practise mental quiet (hesychia). And, most paradoxical of all, in the midst of commotion be unmoved in soul. Curb your tongue which rages to leap into arguments. Seventy times seven in the day wrestle with this tyrant… Gag your mind, overbusy with its private concerns, and thoughtlessly prone to criticize and condemn your brother, by the practical means of showing your neighbour all love and sympathy.

Obedience means that you relinquish your role as the ruler of the word, the need to always manipulate, impress, control, come into conflict with others or talk over them to assert yourself or your universe will collapse.

Fix your mind to your soul as to the wood of a cross to be struck like an anvil with blow upon blow of the hammers, to be mocked, abused, ridiculed and wronged, without being in the least crushed or broken, but continuing to be quite calm and immovable. Shed your own will as a garment of shame, and thus stripped of it enter the practice ground. Array yourself in the rarely acquired breastplate of faith, not crushed or wounded by distrust towards your spiritual trainer.

THE LADDER OF DIVINE ASCENT BY JOHN CLIMACUS

With Lent coming, we are leaving Philokalia for a while to re-read the Ladder of Divine Ascent by St. John Climacus.

With the exception of the Bible, writes Bishop Kallistos Ware in the introduction of this book, there is no other book as influential and foundational for Orthodox spirituality as the Ladder of Divine Ascent by St. John Climacus.

While addressed to monastics, it embodies the transformational journey that all Christians are capable of, and have a right to, from the tumult of passions and fragmentation to wholeness, inner stillness and unity with God.

We use the edition, translated by Colm Luibheid and Norman Russell. Note, however, that my quotes are from a different, online translation.

You can order the book from Amazon.

STEP ONE

Like all journeys, the Ladder of Divine Ascent consists of many steps. St. John divides our journey into 30 small steps, which he describes and helps us climb one-by-one.

With his help we travel gradually from detachment and renunciation to the acquisition of fundamental virtues, the struggle against passions and finally the cultivation of dispassion and acquisition of inner stillness. When we reach at the top of the summit, we can directly experience the love of God and become God-like.

The first step, before our real climb even begins, is renunciation of the material world as we know it: our dependence on things, indulgences, addictions to passions, assumptions that close our hearts and minds.

Those who enter this contest must renounce all things, despise all things, deride all things, and shake off all things, that they may lay a firm foundation.

St. John’s audience, of course, is other monks who have chosen to leave the world and live a life of prayer. Yet renunciation is not negation but purification. Its three pillars according to St. John are “innocence, fasting and temperance.” They do not describe a simple deficit but the shedding of artifice and the return to a child-like nature:

Let all babes in Christ begin with these virtues, taking as their model the natural babes. For you never find in them anything sly or deceitful. They have no insatiate appetite, no insatiable stomach, not a body on fire…

Hence the return to a child-like state, free from passions and anxiety is possible for all of us.

Why would a citizen of the 21st century want to deprive himself/herself in an age when self-gratification and actualization are inalienable rights? In the hesychastic (and more broadly, Christian) worldview, material gratification and abandon in passions result in slavery of the soul. Renunciation, on the other hand, paradoxically leads to freedom.

The book’s preface quotes St. Augustine as he puts forth a vision of a life in which we are in union with God.

Imagine a man in whom the tumult of the flesh goes silent, in whom the images of earth, of water, of air and of the skies cease to resound. His soul turns quiet and, self-reflecting no longer, it transcends itself. Dreams and visions end. SO too does all speech and every gesture, everything in fact which comes to be only to pass away. All these things cry out: “We did not make ourselves. It is the Eternal One who made us.”

This is the vision that makes the journey worthwhile.

Unlike other meditative traditions, the journey up the ladder is enabled by faith and love. Why would you even want to undertake such a challenging journey without this motivation, John asks?

5. All who have willingly left the things of the world, have certainly done so either for the sake of the future Kingdom, or because of the multitude of their sins, or for love of God. If they were not moved by any of these reasons their withdrawal from the world was unreasonable. But God who sets our contests waits to see what the end of our course will be.

Our journey is not a willful adventure but a disciplined process that can only be undertaken under the guidance of a spiritual father. This journey, hence, should be driven by humility rather than certainty in our own knowledge and abilities.

In the patristic mindset, life is a constant spiritual warfare and the forces of evil and darkness are real and ever present.

We have very evil and dangerous, cunning, unscrupulous foes, who hold fire in their hands and try to burn the temple of God with the flame that is in it. These foes are strong; they never sleep; they are incorporeal and invisible.

The hope for Christians is that “God belongs to all free beings. He is the life of all, the salvation of all—faithful and unfaithful, just and unjust, pious and impious, passionate and dispassionate, monks and seculars, wise and simple, healthy and sick, young and old—just as the diffusion of light, the sight of the sun, and the changes of the weather are for all alike; ‘for there is no respect of persons with God’”. Being God-lie, then, is our heritage to reclaim.

In hesychasm there is a need for direct and personal experience with God. Only through renunciation can we hear God speak to us directly without intermediaries. Renunciation opens the door to the journey of direct communion with Him.

So that we can hear his word, not in the language of the flesh, not through the speech of an angel, not by way of a rattling cloud or a mysterious parable. But Himself. The One Whom we love in everything.

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