ST. JOHN, generally distinguished by the appellation of Climacus, from
his excellent book entitled Climax, or the Ladder to Perfection, was
born about the year 525, probably in Palestine. By his extraordinary
progress in the arts and sciences, he obtained very young the surname of
the Scholastic. But at sixteen years of age he renounced all the
advantages which the world promised him, to dedicate himself to God in a
religious state, in 547. He retired to Mount Sinai, which, from the time
of the disciples of St. Antony and St. Hilarion, had been always peopled
by holy men, who, in imitation of Moses, when he received the law on
that mountain, lived in the perpetual contemplation of heavenly things.
Our novice, fearing the danger of dissipation and relaxation, to which
numerous communities are generally more exposed than others, chose not
to live in the great monastery on the summit, but in a hermitage on the
descent of the mountain, under the discipline of Martyrius, a holy
ancient anchoret. By silence, he curbed the insolent itch of talking
about every thing, an ordinary vice in learned men, but usually a mark
of pride and self-sufficiency. By perfect humility and obedience, he
banished the dangerous desire of self-complacency in his actions. He
never contradicted, never disputed with any one. So perfect was his
submission, that he seemed to have no self-will. He undertook to sail
through the deep sea of this mortal life securely, under the direction
of a prudent guide, and shunned those rocks which he could not have
escaped, had he presumed to steer alone, as he tells us.[1] From the
visible mountain he raised his heart, without interruption, in all his
actions, to God, who is invisible; and, attentive to all the motions of
his grace, studied only to do his will. Four years he spent in the trial
of his own strength, and in learning the obligations of his state,
before he made his religious profession, which was in the twentieth year
of his age. In his writings, he severely condemns engagements made by
persons too young, or before a sufficient probation. By fervent prayer
and fasting he prepared himself for the solemn consecration of himself
to God, that the most intense fervor might make his holocaust the more
perfect: and from that moment he seemed to be renewed in spirit; and his
master admired the strides with which, like a mighty giant, the young
disciple advanced, daily more and more, towards God by self-denial,
obedience, humility, and the uninterrupted exercises of divine love and
prayer.
In the year 560, and the thirty-fifth of his age, he lost Martyrius by
death, having then spent nineteen years in that place in penance and
holy contemplation. By the advice of a prudent director, he then
embraced an eremitical life in a plain called Thole, near the foot of
Mount Sinai. His cell was five miles from the church, probably the same
which had been built a little {678} before, by order of the emperor
Justinian, for the use of the monks, at the bottom of this mountain, in
honor of the Blessed Virgin, as Procopius mentions.[2] Thither he went
every Saturday and Sunday to assist, with all the other anchorets and
monks of that desert, at the holy office and at the celebration of the
divine mysteries, when they all communicated. His diet was very sparing,
though, to shun ostentation and the danger of vain-glory, he ate of
every thing that was allowed among the monks of Egypt, who universally
abstained from flesh, fish, &c. Prayer was his principal employment; and
he practised what he earnestly recommends to all Christians, that in all
their actions, thoughts, and words, they should keep themselves with
great fervor in the presence of God, and direct all they do to his holy
will.[3] By habitual contemplation he acquired an extraordinary purity
of heart, and such a facility of lovingly beholding God in all his
works, that this practice seemed in him a second nature. Thus he
accompanied his studies with perpetual prayer. He assiduously read the
holy scriptures, and fathers, and was one of the most learned doctors of
the church. But, to preserve the treasure of humility, he concealed, as
much as possible, both his natural and acquired talents, and the
extraordinary graces with which the Holy Ghost enriched his soul. By
this secrecy he fled from the danger of vain-glory, which, like a leech,
sticks to our best actions, and sucking from them its nourishment, robs
us of their fruit. As if this cell had not been sufficiently remote from
the eyes of men, St. John frequently retired into a neighboring cavern,
which he had made in the rock, where no one could come to disturb his
devotions, or interrupt his tears. So ardent were his charity and
compunction, that his eyes seemed two fountains, which scarce ever
ceased to flow; and his continual sighs and groans to heaven, under the
weight of the miseries inseparable from his moral pilgrimage, were not
to be equalled by the vehemency of the cries of those who suffer from
knives and fire. Overcome by importunities, he admitted a holy anchoret
named Moyses to live with him as his disciple.
God bestowed on St. John an extraordinary grace of healing the spiritual
disorders of souls. Among others, a monk called Isaac, was brought
almost to the brink of despair by most violent temptations of the flesh.
He addressed himself to St. John; who perceived by his tears how much he
underwent from that conflict and struggle which he felt within himself.
The servant of God commended his faith, and said: "My son, let us have
recourse to God by prayer." They accordingly prostrated themselves
together on the ground in fervent supplication for a deliverance, and
from that time the infernal serpent left Isaac to peace. Many others
resorted to St. John for spiritual advice: but the devil excited some to
jealousy, who censured him as one who, out of vanity, lost much time in
unprofitable discourse. The saint took this accusation, which was a mere
calumny, in good part, and as a charitable admonition; he therefore
imposed on himself a rigorous silence for near a twelvemonth. This his
humility and modesty so much astonished his calumniators, that they
joined the rest of the monks in beseeching him to reassume his former
function of giving charitable advice to all that resorted to him for it,
and not to bury that talent of science which he had received for the
benefit of many. He who knew not what it was to contradict others, with
the same humility and deference again opened his mouth to instruct his
neighbor in the rules of perfect virtue: in which office, such was the
reputation of his wisdom and experience, that he was regarded as another
Moses in that holy place.
St. John was now seventy-five years old, and had spent forty of them in
{679} his hermitage, when, in the year six hundred, he was unanimously
chosen abbot of Mount Sinai, and superior-general of all the monks and
hermits in that country. Soon after he was raised to this dignity, the
people of Palestine and Arabia, in the time of a great drought and
famine, made their application to him as to another Elias, begging him
to intercede with God in their behalf. The saint failed not with great
earnestness to recommend their distress to the Father of mercies, and
his prayer was immediately recompensed with abundant rains. St. Gregory
the Great., who then sat in St. Peter's chair, wrote to our holy
abbot,[4] recommending himself to his prayers, and sent him beds, with
other furniture and money, for his hospital, for the use of pilgrims
near Mount Sinai. John, who had used his utmost endeavors to decline the
pastoral charge, when he saw it laid upon him, neglected no means which
might promote the sanctification of all those who were entrusted to his
care. That posterity might receive some share in the benefit of his holy
instructions, John, the learned and virtuous abbot of Raithu, a
monastery-situate towards the Red Sea, entreated him by that obedience
he had ever practised, even with regard to his inferiors, that he would
draw up the most necessary rules by which fervent souls might arrive at
Christian perfection. The saint answered him, that nothing but extreme
humility could have moved him to write to so miserable a sinner,
destitute of every sort of virtue; but that he received his commands
with respect, though far above his strength, never considering his own
insufficiency. Wherefore, apprehensive of falling into death by
disobedience, he took up his pen in haste, with great eagerness mixed
with fear, and set himself to draw some imperfect outlines as an
unskilful painter, leaving them to receive from him, as a great master,
the finishing strokes. This produced the excellent work which he called
Climax, or the ladder of religious perfection. This book being written
in sentences, almost in the manner of aphorisms, abounds more in sense
than words. A certain majestic simplicity, an inexpressible unction and
spirit of humility, joined with conciseness and perspicuity, very much
enhance the value of this performance: but its chief merit consists in
the sublime sentiments, and perfect description of all Christian
virtues, which it contains. The author confirms his precepts by several
edifying examples, as of obedience and penance.[5] In describing a
monastery of three hundred and thirty monks, which he had visited near
Alexandria in Egypt, he mentions one of the principal citizens of that
city, named Isidore, who, petitioning to be admitted into the house,
said to the abbot: "As iron is in the hands of the smith, so am I in
your hands." The abbot ordered him to remain without the gate, and to
prostrate himself at the feet of everyone that passed by, begging their
prayers for his soul struck with a leprosy. Thus he passed seven years
in profound humility and patience. He told St. John, that during the
first year he always considered himself as a slave condemned for his
sins, and sustained violent conflicts. The second year he passed in
tranquillity and confidence; and the third with relish and pleasure in
his humiliations. So great was his virtue, that the abbot determined to
present him to the bishop in order to be promoted to the priesthood, but
the humility of the holy penitent prevented the execution of that
design; for having begged at least a respite, he died within ten days.
St. John could not help admiring the cook of this numerous community,
who seemed always recollected, and generally bathed in tears amidst his
continual occupation, and asked him by what means he nourished so
perfect a spirit of compunction, in the midst of such a dissipating
laborious employment. He said, that serving the monks, he represented to
himself that he was serving not men, but God in his servants {680} and
that the fire he always had before his eyes, reminded him of that fire
which will burn souls for all eternity. The moving description which our
author gives of the monastery of penitents called the Prison, above a
mile from the former, hath been already abridged in our language. John
the Sabaite told our saint, as of a third person, that seeing himself
respected in his monastery, he considered that this was not the way to
satisfy for his sins. Wherefore, with the leave of his abbot, he
repaired to a severe monastery in Pontus, and after three years saw in a
dream a schedule of his debts, to the amount in appearance of one
hundred pounds of gold, of which only ten were cancelled. He therefore
repeated often to himself: "Poor Antiochus, thou hast still great debt
to satisfy." After passing over thirteen years in contempt and the most
fervent practices of penance, he deserved to see in a vision his whole
debt blotted out. Another monk, in a grievous fit of illness, fell into
a trance, in which he lay as if he had been dead for the space of an
hour: but recovering, he shut himself up in his cell, and lived a
recluse twelve years, almost continually weeping, in the perpetual
meditation of death. When he was near death, his brethren could only
extort from him these words of edification: "He who hath death always
before his eyes, will never sin." John, abbot of Raithu, explained this
book of our saint by judicious comments, which are also extant. We have
likewise a letter of St. John Climacus to the same person, concerning
the duties of a pastor, in which he exhorts him in correcting others to
temper severity with mildness, and encourages him zealously to fulfil
the obligations of his charge; for nothing is greater or more acceptable
to God than to offer him the sacrifice of rational souls sanctified by
penance and charity.
St. John sighed continually under the weight of his dignity, during the
four years that he governed the monks of Mount Sinai: and as he had
taken upon him that burden with fear and reluctance, he with joy found
means to resign the same a little before his death. Heavenly
contemplation, and the continual exercise of divine love and praise,
were his delight and comfort in his earthly pilgrimage: and in this
imitation of the functions of the blessed spirits in heaven he placeth
the essence of the monastic state.[6] In his excellent maxims concerning
the gift of holy tears, the fruit of charity,[7] we seem to behold a
lively portraiture of his most pure soul. He died in his hermitage on
the 30th day of March, in 605, being fourscore years old. His spiritual
son George, who had succeeded him in the abbacy, earnestly begged of God
that he might not be separated from his dear master and guide, and
followed him by a happy death within a few days. On several Greek
commentaries on St. John Climacus's ladder, see Montfaucon, Biblioth.
Coisliana, pp. 305, 306.
* * * * *
St. John Climacus, speaking of the excellence and the effects of
charity, does it with a feeling and energy worthy of such a subject. "A
mother," says he,[8] "feels less pleasure when she folds within her arms
the dear infant whom she nourishes with her own milk, than the true
child of charity does, when united, as he incessantly is, to his God,
and folded as if were in the arms of his heavenly Father.[9]--Charity
operates in some persons so as to carry them almost entirely out of
themselves. It illuminates others, and fills them with such sentiments
of joy, that they cannot help crying out: _The Lord is my helper and my
protector: in him hath my heart confided, and I have been helped. And my
flesh hath flourished again, and with my will I will give praise to
him_.[10] This joy which they feel in their hearts, is reflected on
their countenances; and when once God has united, or, as we may say,
{681} incorporated them with his charity, he displays in their exterior,
as in the reflection of a mirror, the brightness and serenity of their
souls: even as Moses, being honored with a sight of God, was encompassed
round by his glory." St. John Climacus composed the following prayer to
obtain the gift of charity: "My God, I pretend to nothing upon this
earth, except to be so firmly united to you by prayer, that to be
separated from you may be impossible: let others desire riches and
glory; for my part, I desire but one thing, and that is, to be
inseparably united to you, and to place in you alone all my hopes of
happiness and repose."
Footnotes:
1. Gr. l.
2. Procop. l. 5 de aedif. Justin.
3. S. Jo. Clim. gr. 27, n. 67.
4. St. Greg. l. 11; Ep. 1, l. 12; Ep. 16, t. 2, p. 1091.
5. Gr. 4 and 5.
6. Gr. 1.
7. Gr. 7, 27, 30.
8. Grad. 30, n. 12.
9. Gr {} n. 14.
10. Ps. xxvii.