The
Ladder of Divine Ascent
Step
2 - On Detachment
John
does not hide the difficulty of the struggle ahead for those who have entered
the religious life, and provides little hope for an easier way to progress in
virtue. To give oneself up to God
requires a stripping of oneself of all possible attachments, concerns,
anxieties, possessions, and even certain loves and friendships. In short, one must strip oneself of
anything and everything and live solely for God. Only in doing this, John states, can one be truly able to
pray as the psalmist, "I will cling close to you" (Ps 62:9).
There
are many things, John calls them demons, which try to attack a monk after he
has renounced the world. In
convincing a monk that he is no better off for the renunciation, the monk
either returns to the world, or falls through his grief into despair.
The
grief, John tells us, comes from the love of things left behind in the world
and, therefore, a monk must be diligent in guarding his heart. Once beginning the difficult journey on
the narrow way, John states, it is easy to fall again onto the broad highway
that leads to destruction. When
the thoughts of the world threaten to overwhelm, the best weapon is prayer.
1-2 To
renounce one's life and the world is worthless if after having done so the monk
still pines for the things he left behind. In fact, it reveals that he did not have a good start in the
spiritual journey and that he may not have had the proper motivation. The monk must throughly examine his thoughts
and fight against all temptations.
If
you truly love God and long to reach the kingdom that is to come, if you are
truly pained by your failings and are mindful of punishment and of the eternal
judgment, if you are truly afraid to die, then it will not be possible to have
an attachment, or anxiety, or concern for money, for possessions, for family
relationships, for worldly glory, for love and brotherhood, indeed for anything
of earth. All worry about one's
condition, even for one's body, will be pushed aside as hateful. Stripped of all thought of these,
caring nothing about them, one will turn freely to Christ.
It
would be a very great disgrace to leave everything after we have been called -
and called by God, not man - and then to be worried about something that can do
us no good in the hour of our need, that is, of our death.
There
are demons to assail us after our renunciation of the world. They make us envy those who remain on
the outside and who are merciful and compassionate. They make us regret that we seem deprived of these
virtues. Their hostile aim is to
bring us by way of false humility either to turn back to the world or, if we
remain monks, to plunge down the cliffs of despair.
3-4 Pride
and vanity may destroy the value of a monk's renunciation. Conceit may lead him to disparage the
secular life or secretly despise those on the outside. Vanity may be the source and motivation
of his renunciation, making his external asceticism lifeless.
Conceit
may lead us to disparage the secular life or secretly to despise those on the outside. We may act in this way in order to
escape despair or to obtain hope.
We
should investigate why those who have lived in the world, and have endured
nightlong vigils, fasting, labors, and suffering, and then have withdrawn from
their fellowmen to the monastic life, as if to a place of trial or an arena, no
longer practice their former fake and spurious asceticism. I have seen many different plants of
the virtues planted by them in the world, watered by vanity as if from an
underground cesspool, made to shoot up by love of show, manured by praise, and
yet they quickly withered when transplanted to desert soil, to where the world
did not walk, that is, to where they were not manured with the foul-smelling
water of vanity.
5-7 Grief
over what was left behind still shows some attachment - that something still
has a hold upon the monk's heart.
Therefore, living a monastic lifestyle is no guarantee of sanctity or
salvation. A monk may just as
easily be led astray by his own inner longings for the things of this world.
If
someone has hated the world, he has run away from its misery; but if he has an
attachment to visible things, then he is not yet cleansed of grief. For how can he avoid grief when he is
deprived of something he loves? We
need great vigilance in all things, but especially in regard to what we have
left behind.
I
have observed many men in the world assailed by anxiety, by worry, by the need
to talk, by all-night watching, and I have seen them run away from the madness
of their bodies. They turned to
the monastic life with totally free hearts, and still were pitiably corrupted
by the stirrings of the body.
We
should be careful in case it should happen to us that while talking of journeying
along the narrow and hard road we may actually wander onto the broad and wide
highway.
8-9 Exterior
mortification and renunciation will lead a monk to the greater and more
difficult interior detachment from the desire for respect and honor.
Mortification
of the appetite, nightlong toil, a ration of water, a short measure of bread,
the bitter cup of dishonor - these will show you the narrow way. 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.
10 In
this final paragraph, Climacus discusses the means by which a monk can
strengthen his resolve and keep himself faithful to his commitment to God.
Whenever
our feelings grow warm after our renunciation with the memories of parents and
of brothers, that is all the work of demons, and we must take up the weapons of
prayer against them. Inflamed by
the thought of eternal fire, we must drive them out and quench that untimely
glow in our hearts. If a man
thinks himself immune to the allurement of something and yet grieves over its
loss, he is only fooling himself.
Young men who still feel strongly the urge for physical love and
pleasure and yet who also want to take on the regime of a monastery must
discipline themselves with every form of vigilance and prayer, avoiding all
dangerous comfort, so that their last state may not be worse than their
first. For those sailing the tides
of spirituality know only too well that the religious life can be a harbor of
salvation or a haven of destruction, and a pitiable sight indeed is the
shipwreck in port of someone who had safely mastered the ocean.
This
is the second step, and if you take it, then do as Lot did, not his wife, and
flee.

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