The Ladder of Divine Ascent is a sixth-century spiritual guidebook written by St. John Climacus, abbot of the monastery at Mount Sinai. It’s one of the most influential books in Orthodox Christianity after Scripture itself.
St. John organized his work into thirty chapters, thirty “steps” up a ladder toward union with God. The number isn’t random. It echoes the thirty years of Christ’s hidden life before His public ministry. Each step treats a specific passion to overcome or virtue to acquire. You start at the bottom with renunciation of the world and climb toward the top: divine love.
The early steps deal with foundational things. Obedience. Repentance. Detachment from worldly concerns. Middle steps get into the nitty-gritty of actual spiritual warfare: gluttony, anger, despondency, vainglory. Anyone who’s tried to fast during Lent or keep a prayer rule knows these aren’t abstract concepts. The final steps treat advanced virtues like stillness, prayer, and dispassion, culminating in Step 30: love. Not sentimental feeling, but the kind of love that transforms everything.
St. John wrote from experience. He lived as a hermit in the Sinai desert for years before becoming abbot of the monastery there. His writing is practical and psychologically sharp. He knew how the mind works, how passions twist our thoughts, how we deceive ourselves. The book isn’t theoretical. It’s a manual.
Why It Matters
The Orthodox Church has treasured The Ladder for fourteen centuries. Monasteries copied it, translated it, read it aloud in refectories during Lent. Spiritual fathers used it to guide their disciples. Laypeople read it for practical advice on prayer and repentance. It shaped how Orthodox Christians understand the spiritual life: not as a one-time decision but as a long ascent, step by step, requiring vigilance and grace.
We commemorate St. John on the Fourth Sunday of Great Lent. That Sunday is named after him, the Sunday of St. John Climacus. (“Climacus” comes from the Greek word for ladder, klimax.) During Lent, parishes often encourage reading The Ladder. Some priests preach sermon series on it. It’s traditional Lenten fare, like fasting from meat or attending presanctified liturgies.
The book emphasizes humility as the destroyer of passions. It stresses obedience to a spiritual father. It teaches watchfulness, guarding your heart against destructive thoughts before they take root. These aren’t just monastic concerns. Anyone trying to live a Christian life in Beaumont or anywhere else faces the same battles: pride, anger, lust, despair. St. John gives concrete guidance.
Reading It Today
You can read The Ladder yourself. Several good English translations exist. The one by Archimandrite Lazarus Moore is widely available. Ancient Faith Publishing offers Thirty Steps to Heaven by Archimandrite Vassilios, which interprets The Ladder for ordinary Christians without watering it down.
Fair warning: some of it will feel extreme. St. John wrote primarily for monks living in the desert. When he talks about total renunciation or unceasing prayer, he’s addressing people who left everything to pursue God in radical ways. But the principles apply. You don’t have to flee to Sinai to practice humility or guard your thoughts or repent daily.
Fr. Steven Kostoff at the OCA wrote that The Ladder remains relevant because the passions haven’t changed. We still struggle with the same things sixth-century monks struggled with. The packaging looks different, our gluttony involves drive-thrus instead of monastery kitchens, our vainglory plays out on social media instead of in monastic cells, but the underlying passions are identical. So the remedies St. John prescribes still work.
The goal of the ladder is theosis. Union with God. Becoming by grace what Christ is by nature. That’s what we’re all called to, whether we’re monastics or refinery workers or teachers or nurses. St. John maps the path: renounce what holds you back, battle the passions with God’s help, acquire virtue through practice and prayer, and climb toward love. The ladder stands there. We’re all somewhere on it, and we’re all invited to keep climbing.
