In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
My beloved brothers and sisters in Christ,
As we gather on this fourth Sunday of Great Lent, we find ourselves, like weary travellers, at a crucial waypoint in our journey towards Pascha. Today, the Holy Church commemorates Saint John of the Ladder, whose spiritual masterpiece “The Ladder of Divine Ascent” has guided countless souls toward heaven. His work, written in the quiet solitude of Mount Sinai, speaks to us across the centuries about the patient, step-by-step ascent to God.
Our appointed readings today weave together like golden threads in a tapestry of faith. In the Epistle to the Hebrews, Saint Paul speaks of God’s promise to Abraham, showing how our forefather waited patiently in faith, receiving his reward only after long endurance. This promise, Saint Paul tells us, is anchored in the very sanctuary of heaven, reaching beyond the veil where Christ Himself has gone before us.
Let me share with you a story that might illuminate these sacred texts:
There once was a potter in a small village by the sea who had a son troubled by severe fits. Each morning, as the sun rose over the waves, the potter would walk to his workshop, light a candle before the icon of Christ, and begin his day’s work. His hands would shape the clay as he had done for thirty years, yet they would tremble each time he heard his child’s distressed cries from their home nearby.
The villagers, well-meaning but lacking faith, would say, “Your son’s affliction is too severe there is no hope.” Some suggested seeking help from those who practiced darker arts. Others simply shook their heads in pity. Yet the potter, remembering the words he had heard in church about Abraham’s patient faith, persisted in hope.
Every evening, after his work, he would sit before his icons, his hands still dusty with clay, and pray. “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” Some days his prayers felt as weak as water, yet he persisted. Like Abraham, he held fast to God’s promise, even when it seemed impossible.
His wife would sometimes ask, “How long will you keep praying when nothing changes?” He would smile gently and answer, “As long as there is clay on my hands, there is hope in my heart.”
One day, a holy monk from Mount Athos visited their village. Seeing the potter’s workshop filled with vessels of all kinds, some beautiful, some broken, some in the process of being reshaped, the monk stood quietly observing. Then he said, “Your prayers are like the potter’s wheel they gradually shape your soul. Each vessel you make is like a prayer rising to heaven. Each time you pray despite your doubts, you climb another rung on the ladder to heaven.”
The monk stayed for several days, teaching the potter about Saint John Climacus and his Ladder. He explained how each rung represented a virtue: patience, humility, discernment, prayer. “Notice,” the monk said, “how you cannot jump from the bottom of your ladder to the top shelf of your workshop. So it is with spiritual life.”
As the monk spoke these words, the potter’s son had one of his fits. Together, they prayed over the boy, the potter crying out just as the father in today’s Gospel, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!” And in that moment of perfect humility and imperfect faith, a change began.
Saint John Chrysostom teaches us that the father’s cry in the Gospel shows the struggle within his heart. He believed, yet he felt his faith was insufficient. How many of us feel the same? We believe, yet we struggle with doubts. We pray yet wonder if our prayers are heard.
The potter’s son was not healed instantly, but gradually, over many months, the fits became less severe. More importantly, the potter himself was transformed. His workshop became a place of prayer, each vessel a testament to patient faith. Other villagers began to bring their troubles to him, and he would simply say, “Let us shape your burden into a prayer.”
Saint John Climacus writes, “Prayer is the mother and daughter of tears.” The potter’s persistent prayers, like the father’s cry in the Gospel, teach us that God honours both our faith and our honest admission of struggle. His ladder is not climbed in great leaps but in small, faithful steps.
As we continue our Lenten journey, let us remember that we are all climbing this ladder. Some days we may climb higher, other days we might slip back a rung or two. What matters is that we keep climbing, keep praying, keep believing. Each small act of faith, each humble prayer, each moment of patience in suffering, is another step upward.
Let us be encouraged by Abraham’s patient faith, strengthened by the father’s honest prayer in the Gospel, and inspired by Saint John’s ladder of spiritual ascent. Remember the potter, whose simple faith and daily work became a path to heaven. His story teaches us that every moment of our lives, every task, every struggle, can become a prayer, another rung on our ladder to heaven.
May God grant us the strength to continue our climb, the wisdom to know the next step, and the humility to admit when we need help. And may the prayers of Saint John Climacus be with us all.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
