by Brandon Beck

I find myself writing a lot about two things recently: 1) history and 2) ladders.

It is not the history of ladders which has consumed me, though. I suspect some of you have guessed already, perhaps even by the simple title of “Ladder,” that it is Jacob’s Ladder which has me captivated at the moment but, perhaps, not in the way you might suspect.

Two people are given historical recognition for their writing down of “rules” for monastic communities: Benedict in the West and John in the East. In the late 5th and early 6th century in Italy, Benedict withdrew from the city and political life to practice the purity of his faith and to draw closer to God through a pattern of silence, work, prayer, and study. As others followed him to learn from him, communities formed around his practices. Based on earlier, less accessible texts, he set down what is now known and widely used among monastic groups, The Rule of Benedict. Benedict writes to assist the men who have come to him, offering their prayer and work in efforts to reach God in wholeness and peace. In Chapter 7 of his Rule, Benedict outlines this mystic goal by way of Jacob’s Ladder:

If we want to attain true humility, and come quickly to the top of that heavenly ascent to which we can only mount by lowliness in this present life, we must ascend by good works, and erect the mystical ladder of Jacob, where angels ascending and descending appeared to him. That ascent and descent means that we go downward when we exalt ourselves, and rise when we are humbled. The ladder represents our life in this world, which our Lord erects to heaven when our heart is humbled. And the sides of the ladder represent our soul and body, sides between which God has placed several rungs of humility and discipline, whereby we are to ascend if we would answer his call.

In the East, on Mt. Sinai, the community now called St. Catherine’s Monastery claims John; however, we don’t really know much of John’s biography. What we do know is that he wrote a rule for monastics sometime in the late 6th to early 7th century in the area of the Sinai peninsula. He begins the letter with a salutation identifying himself as the hegumen (abbot) of the monks of Mt. Sinai and says that he has written this at the request of John, hegumen of the monastery at Raithu. In Chapter 9, John of Sinai tells us of his Jacob’s Ladder strategy:

The holy virtues are like Jacob’s ladder, and the unholy vices are like the chains that fell from the chief Apostle Peter. For the virtues, leading from one to another, bear him who chooses them up to Heaven; but the vices by their nature beget and stifle one another.

John has come to be known as John Climacus, named for his ladder; ladder is a translation of climacus for ladder or staircase.

As an adolescent, I had what might be referred to as visions or might be referred to as panic attacks. The label doesn’t matter. These occurred in university related to my gradual loss of sense of self, “Who am I? Where did I come from? What am I doing here? Where am I going?” Such deep, Sapiential questions. I did not have a grounding, an Ekklesia in which to plant myself, from which to climb toward Heaven. I was mired in this earthly body, trapped by the “seven forms” of the “fourth power.” (See Gospel of Mary Magdalene, Chapter 8.)

In my mind, I would see myself starting to climb stairs and then falling down. When I’d fall, a video game screen would appear flashing, “Game Over. Please insert another quarter.”

I’ve ascended many stairs/rungs of the imagaic ladder in twenty-five years; I’ve also stumbled, slipped down a rung or two, but I have not had to insert another quarter or seen the “Game Over” sign. I’ve learned from the Ekklesia (which I did find eventually) that asking Sapiential questions is good, true, and beautiful. First and foremost, I continue to ascend Jacob’s ladder because I, like Isidore in Chapter 4 of John’s Ladder, am willing to ask for prayer and help.

As we celebrate Holy Week and Easter, I remember the meaning of baptism, the symbolism of baptism, and the power of the Ekklesia in holding the ladder in place and in balance as someone new starts their ascent; the power of the Ekklesia in pointing to the strong footholds and warning of those who will try to pull you off the ladder.

After all, “There is one Body and one Spirit; There is one hope in God’s call to us; One Lord, one Faith, one Baptism; One God and Father of us All.” (BCP, p. 299).

We affirm our support of all in their faith, of each other in our faith; the ladder supports us as we ascend, just as it supported Jacob’s vision and the monks of Benedict and John.

As Christ rises again, let us follow him and find our ladder by which we can climb to meet him. Let us be a ladder, reaching up and out, connecting ourselves and others together and to God.

Amen.